"Well, I've already given away the blueprints once - but I'm not sure you have the technological infrastructure to read them usefully. Maybe you can skip a lot of steps with magic or something."
"Is that what that mood looks like from the outside?" murmurs Miles.
"Occasionally even more so," murmurs Linya. "Well, they come in various colors and styles, have a catalog, you can bring home a box of them if you like." She tosses Mial a catalog.
This cracks Stalas and Miles up completely.
"It's in character for Mial," says Aurin. "Dare I ask?"
"Well, now that you've implied you've considered asking you'll probably get at least an example," says Ivan.
"I mean, are you thinking more of the 'drive an antique tank, dig an escape tunnel' genre of Milescapade or the 'avert a civil war, liberate a POW camp' type?" wonders Miles. "I'm sensing more of the latter."
"I was eighty-one and impatient and disguised myself long enough to come second in the tryout race for a league that didn't technically have an equivalency restriction," says Mial.
"Now that is an escape tunnel," says Miles. "With just a hint of Dendarii."
"I am intrigued by this classification scheme and doubly intrigued by how I almost understand parts of it even though I don't know any of the incidents you're referring to," says Mial.
"The tunnel is a childhood incident that collapsed on my head and the Dendarii are his plausibly deniable covert mercenary corps."
Mial nods along to this.
"Sometimes extravagantly accidental," adds Ivan. "And extravagantly illegal, so Gregor has to take the whole shebang as an early Winterfair gift..."
"I recommend you keep it that way unless it's really worth it," says Miles. "Of course, it's not always possible to know that in advance."
"The name doesn't ring a bell," says Aurin.
"So you might have one if his name is as far from 'Gregor' as 'Aeducan' is from 'Aral', and we'd have no way to tell," concludes Miles. "I suppose I could describe his personality. ...How the hell do I describe Gregor's personality?"
"Shortly after I appeared on Barrayar having married Miles, he came over for lunch, waited until Miles was busy chewing, and inquired of me point-blank if I was some sort of spy or saboteur. But he seems to have effectively accepted my statement that I am not from the earliest, though Miles's boss took longer."
"Probably you don't, then. Or haven't met him. Now that would be weird."
"No, but before any of us were born my empire briefly occupied his, and I'm also the only haut to ever marry anyone other than a ghem-lord."
"Haut," muses Finnah. "Were you avoiding the word before? You kind of have to reverse your instincts about when to bust out the jargon with dragonishes."
"Ah."
"Yeah," says Miles, "I caught how you all just sort of say 'Alts!' at each other and then nod knowingly."
"To the extent that we have the concepts to understand it, yeah."
"Handy."
"Draconic is not totally without positive features."