[Replace him entirely? That makes Gregor's hackles go up and he has to remind himself that he agrees with Miles that mercy is always the better way. There's no way to replace you, he thinks over at Miles fiercely for a moment, before managing to shut that down and center himself.

Acting. Right. Gregor is half-tempted to toss the whole thing out the window and tell him he knows he's lying-- actually, wait, why doesn't he do that? No reason he can't believe Naismith is a clone and this one. He just doesn't think he can sustain this level of twistiness for no good reason that he can see. He's not like Miles; he doesn't like to play games. He already feels like his skin is going to crawl at the thought of pretending to the closeness he has with Miles with someone he's never even met before, someone who probably wants to kill him.

No. No. But no telling Miles in advance, either. This is something Gregor will take care of himself, without interference. He uses the excuse of needing to be able to focus to narrow their link down to a trickle, a note of sincere apology at that passing through, even so, and looks straight at the clone, eyes dark and intent.]

Yes, we do. You know we'd have my circumstances to discuss. [As a supposed deserter.] But don't let us put you out, ah, Admiral. We'll go into the living room.

[With all the bland implacability of an unstated order, directed at the clone.]