mountain climbing

[naismith]

The whole job was a mess.

Miles finds himself stuck in the basement of a Jacksonian corporate building, the lift he'd used to arrive collapsed behind him and groaning shrilly with the sound of steel sliding against concrete as it settles. Dust clouds the air. Someone had cut the cable, someone prepared, because cutting industrial grade, ten centimeter lift cable took malice aforethought. You didn't have those kinds of bolt cutters just lying around.

He eyes the jammed lift doors grimly. No sense waiting here to be cornered. Turning immediately to leave, Miles searches through the surrounding rooms with all the urgency of trapped prey. They'd succeeded in separating him from his escort, and however frantic Taura was upstairs and outside, even her formidable strength would be no use. Miles has his combat armor and a plasma arc and a stunner-- the stunner he has out at the ready-- and his now useless command helmet, the meters of concrete and dirt between him and the surface cutting him off more effectively than any communications jammer. They'd planned this, oh yes. They'd planned this very well.

When he finds what he presumes is a laundry dumb waiter in the laundry room, he stares at it and sighs. Once again, his tiny frame is going to get him out of a situation with a method that he wouldn't be able to use if he were a normal person. Obviously if they've cut the elevator they'll be attempting to herd him toward the stairs, or at least trying to enclose him somewhere he'd be backed into making a desperate, futile last stand. With this dumb waiter, he doesn't have to do either.

Grumbling to himself about the unfairness of being stuck in vents or vent-like spaces again, Miles slaps the button for the uppermost floor available-- best to get as far away as possible; he can get an emergency pick up from the roof if necessary, and they certainly won't be anticipating that-- and clambers in. He just barely fits, yanking a last foot out of the way before the hatch closes and the box starts to crawl upward. Miles hurriedly checks that the safeties are engaged on both his weapons and settles in for what is sure to be several minutes of claustrophobic tedium.

He has no idea where he'll be coming out. It sends a little thrill of excitement through him, actually.

arrangements

[naismith]

Miles's proclamation the next day that he was taking a lightflyer and showing River the district was met with an amused quirk of his mother's lips and sedate agreement. His father didn't say anything against it either, which he wasn't surprised by. Neither of his parents had any intention on pressuring him to follow through with this mad scheme-- and in fact they would be best pleased if he abandoned it entirely, steadfast as they both were in their progressive views. They'd both ultimately married for love and found their happiness in that, and wished the same for him. But Miles's protective streak, that urge that makes him want to save everyone in distress he comes across (damsel or not) is too strong to quash that easily.

Plus, Miles is finding himself warming up to the whole idea. River is smart. Smarter than him, and tenacious, and certainly better looking than him, and... He can't quite put off the conviction that she'd be entirely out of his league if her parents hadn't pushed for this kind of arrangement. It leaves Miles nearly vibrating with the need to impress her.

So he leaves his parents behind to entertain hers (and he'll have to make that up to them later, he thinks wryly, aware of the favor they're doing him) and then goes to find his -- well, his intended. It's an odd thought, something he's still fitting to the shape of in his mind.

He finds her out in the garden and tries to resist the urge to bound up to her. He manages to keep it to a fast walk, though there's a bounce in his step, his eyes alight. "Lady River," he begins, half teasing and half respectful with the title, "would you care to join me for a morning excursion? I thought you might like to tour Vorkosigan district. From the air."

And if he has plans to spend a good portion of that time showing off his piloting skills (not substantial, but daring as hell), it'll be a damn sight more entertaining than puttering around Vorkosigan House with four parental chaperones and the bland supervision of the armsmen in residence.