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Finnah's just arrived at work to open the store for the morning shift; she has her apron on but hasn't put her hair up yet. She lets in the customer who always takes half an angle to determine that he wants four buttercreams, again, and then nips into the back to tend to her hair and check the overnight progress of the rock candy.

This isn't the back.

But that -

No, he's too tall to be Mial, if this is a Mial prank it's a stupidly elaborate one.

"Okay, I give up," she says, "what the hell?"
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"The five-year-old Miles was a unicorn," mentions Miles.

"'Unicorn' isn't ringing any bells," says Mial.

"It's another mythical creature. Come to think of it, the five-year-old Miles's adopted sister who was inexplicably and unfortunately an alt of my wife was allegedly a dragon."

...Mial cracks up.

"Hey!" says Miles.

"No, I know," says Mial, snickering helplessly, "it'd be much less funny if I'd been there, it's just the way you put it—" and he's off again.
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"She couldn't've been our kind of dragon if she was passing for human particularly effectively," says Finnah.

"No, I imagine it was another sort," agrees Isabella. "My other alt to have been through here was a half-human, half-telepathic-alien, which was also interesting."
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"So, Mark, is Aurin as inexplicably fascinating as I am? You didn't wind up meeting mini-me."

"You're inexplicably fascinating?" asks Aurin.

"Are you asking me to explain the inexplicable?"

"Well, no. Do you not expect to be interesting?"

"I do not expect to be interesting in the way that Mark finds me interesting," Ivan clarifies.
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"In what way do I find you interesting that is distinct from how normal people do it?" wonders Mark.

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"Explicability," says Ivan. "Intensity. Clear trajectory from point A to point B. The part where at no point have I attempted to seduce either you or anyone who cares about your opinion."

"Isn't him being your cousin a reasonably clear trajectory?" wonders Aurin reasonably.

"You would think that. But no, absolutely not," says Ivan.
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"I haven't yet caught Aurin doing anything especially and lovably Ivanish but I have no reason to think he won't," says Mark. "'Does that imply that you are very good at scoot-racing' sounded like it would've qualified if I'd had any idea what he was talking about."

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"Mial races scoots. Every so often he comes down with an immense crush on someone else who also races scoots," says Aurin.

"Miles was various flavors of depressed about the concept of girls for a while until he landed on a semi-hostile planet and improbably carried off a maiden from it," says Ivan.

Finnah snorts.
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Mial and Miles look at one another.

"Unflattering but basically accurate?" says Mial.

"Yep," says Miles.

"—heh, you're not a shren, what does your cousin do when you're in a mood?"

"...Well, it depends on the severity of the mood... why, what does yours do?"

Instead of answering, Mial inexplicably bursts out laughing.
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"Well, see," says Finnah, "when shrens, or for that matter dragons, don't fly around enough, we get tired - to start with - which doesn't help when the solution is 'fly around' -"

"So when he gets in a particularly prolonged mood sometimes I have to defenestrate him," says Aurin, "why do you have a word for that."
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"You would have to ask a historical linguist," snorts Miles. "Haven't you ever just not flown?"

"When I'm too far gone for it to work, he knows not to try it," Mial explains. "That's not often, though."
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"Fun fact, this little symptom of not flying around is also a significant chunk of why being a shren sucks so very much," Finnah says.

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"You said 'to start with'. Something else happens after that?"

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"Oh yeah. The tiredness goes away and then it starts hurting, and if you are a little baby shren who cannot shapeshift and therefore cannot fly, it just gets worse. He's teeny because he had a weird reaction to painkillers. I was on the same ones and nothing happened, though, maybe you guys are just supposed to be teeny."

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"Teeniness definitely seems to be a theme," says Miles.

Stalas is looking at Mial with a thoughtful frown.
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Mark notices and correctly interprets the thoughtful frown.

"What is the gender distribution of these immense crushes?" he asks.
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"Fifty-fifty," says Finnah. "Are you guys not fifty-fifty? If I have alts and we cannot bond over how hot girls are I do not know what I shall do."

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Aurin glances at Ivan.

"Mostly girls, but if they're thin on the ground or into it, sometimes guys," shrugs Ivan.

Aurin nods.
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"Overwhelmingly girls to the point where I couldn't confidently say anyone else registers on the scanner at all," says Miles.

"Of people I've been attracted to in passing, mostly girls. Of people I've fallen in love with—both guys, but it's not a high number to begin with so I don't know if it's just coincidence," says Stalas.

"That's weird, I wonder why we're all different?" says Mial.
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"We match," says Ivan. "Linyabel, did it come up with Isabella?"

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"She's straight, I contribute to my constellation's quota of bisexuality," says Linyabel. "But that was designed in, so it may not be a useful data point."

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"...I have a theory, for us," Miles says slowly.

"Yeah?" says Mial.

"There's no - social censure, is there, for liking both, where you're from?"

"No..." says Mial.

"There's quite a lot on Barrayar. Stalas?"

"Not... not a lot," says Stalas, "but dwarven population problems, so. I've always meant to marry a nice girl and settle down eventually. Do my part. Or at minimum screw a lot of noble hunters when I'm older and ready to have kids. And while it's not exactly something you get heat for, it's not something you flaunt, either."

"So apparently the Platonic form of the Miles is bisexual, and I've just had it beaten out of me by Barrayaran social norms," Miles concludes. "And Stalas has had his bisexuality slightly dented, and Mial's is flourishing."
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"Huh. So if we're consistent and you're consistent that seems like plenty of consistency, and Linyabel is a freak anomaly via genetic engineering," says Ivan.

"What is that?" asks Aurin.

"It is why she is so pretty and long-haired and whatnot. Fiddly business with her - do you have, you know, genomes, in Elcenia, you are a magic dragon, how should I know."

"...I mean, I can tell that it's a word, in your language, which means things, but not as such," says Aurin.
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"I nominate Linya to explain genetics to the magic dragons," says Miles.

"Dragonishes," says Mial. "I want to hear this too."
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"Well, first of all, since you're apparently shapeshifters," says Linya, "is it customary for people to look like their parents where you're from?"

"Exactly like, sometimes," says Finnah levelly, "if they're full-blooded dragons, in the same species of form. Parunias like Mial or his dad, not so much. But for humans and so on, yeah, people look like their parents more or less."

"So, the reason that happens - at least in humans; I can't begin to speculate on why dragonishes work that way - has to do with very tiny chemical 'instructions' all through all the cells of the body, which are split into various halves for gametes and recombined -"

"Does this have anything to do with why I can only ever have daughters, assuming I don't enlist outside help or spontaneously start liking boys?" Finnah asks.

"Yes, or at least so I'd assume - females have two of a specific sub-instruction and males have one of those and one of a different one, instead. Anyway, with the right equipment you can have a detailed look at those instructions and change them around, and it's customary in my social class of origin to do this as a matter of such total routine that I don't technically have parents but do have many substantial advantages at almost everything relative to untampered-with humans."
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"I wonder what dragonishes do have instead," says Mial.

"It's possible we could find out," says Miles. "Linya? Where'd you put that med scanner? Or would we need something more involved?"
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