Too many giggle. Cannot respond.

"Can't promise certain types of acid though, if you cry acid tears I'll have to pass."

"I do not," snicker, "cry acid tears, my God."

"Are you sure? Have you checked?"

"I would have bloody noticed by now, trust me!"

"Okay, well, in that case, you are hereby approved for crying on the individual known as Yvette Vorlaine. Congratulations."

"Thank you, I try!" she says, without a hint of modesty.

"Let's be best friends and save the galaxy together," he says impulsively.

"Me neither, not really. But I don't see why I should let that stop me."

"Of course."

"We'll find designated best friend things to do - uh, what do best friends do?" She thinks. "... Um... Go... Fishing?" She pauses. "Yeah I've got nothing."

"We are not on the right planet to go fishing," laughs Miles. "Can you imagine? Spear-fishing in a public fountain—the looks we'd get from the locals—"

"Oh, that would be hilarious - it'd be even better if we got wooden spears."

"On Beta Colony? Are you kidding me? We'd be surrounded by weeping antiques dealers in minutes," he snickers.

"I guess we shouldn't plan to roast the fish in a wood fired oven, huh?"

"Oh God."

"'This piece of wood was cut from a tree that has grown on my family's land for generations.' Toss. 'And now it is on fire.' The mortification!"

"Betans."

"I mean, my own mother is Betan, I'm not condemning the lot of them, but she has this way of saying 'Barrayarans' like it's a potent curse, so I feel it's only fair."