[Goodness, that's the most he's sounded like Miles yet. It's very eerie. And disorienting. If Gregor closed his eyes and reopened them, he could reset his whole perspective, almost. Except...

Except for that body language. As far from him as possible, instead of eager, conspiratorial, on the edge of his seat. Gregor wonders how scared he is, if he's scared at all. He has no clue of his background, but surely he must be at least a little panicked to be caught unprepared like this, in a different century on a different planet with those most able to see through him. Gregor is still wary of him, but sympathetic nonetheless.

He lets the words rest in the air for a moment, dark and somber. He pushes past them without acknowledging it, saying what he needs to say instead. Gregor finds he has no more patience to pretend; too many sour memories with it.]

One of the abilities I was given on arrival was a telepathic link with those who are sworn to me, [he says plainly, in a low tone to match his, furtive.] Which includes all of Barrayar. So I know that you are not Miles Vorkosigan. Just as I know that Naismith isn't, either.

[A beat before, with utmost seriousness, gaze steady and holding his:]

I would like to offer you a chance to be someone else.