barrayar | I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk

Very lightly.

[ Truthfully? Like a rock, for about ten hours. And then he'd just lay in bed staring at the ceiling for another two. He's never had that sort of luxury before, not since he left Jackson's Whole. And even then it was rare. But he's not going to admit to that. Let Gregor think that he wakes at the slightest sound. Normally he does, too...

It's probably just that there were no sounds to wake him up.

He sits down - a little uneasily, glancing at Gregor. And then, trying out politeness like it's a new thing, he returns: ]

What...about you?

[That promptly gets a smile, not condescending in the least. Gregor just honestly surprised and pleased to be asked. Not needing his pity, indeed.

Yes. He thinks this really might end up fine.]

Terribly, [he says frankly, because he's already gauged that an absolute minimum of lies here is crucial.] I often don't sleep well.

[Gregor pushes over the serving plate of omelettes at him.] Here, go ahead. [He's taking yogurt and fruit for himself first, a no-cooking-skill addendum to breakfast.]

[ The clone's eyes flick down, then back up to Gregor's face. And then he reaches out and spears one of the omelets and drags it onto his plate. And he cuts through a very large piece with the side of his fork. ]

Did they train you to not sleep well? Or is it just something you do?

[Eating. Definitely something with eating. Which Gregor is not at all prepared to handle. He senses a trip to the library in his future. (Just how does Cordelia do this?)]

Oh-- no, that one's all me. I've had very little conditioning of the sort you mean. Just, some unintentional, like watching my words or not standing too close to anyone.

[He's never spoken about this so directly before, and it's a little odd to put it in so concise terms, but Gregor can't help but think this is a receptive audience.]

[ A nod of understanding. Right. ]

So your security has time to get to you. Picked up from the B...Count Vorkosigan, I imagine.

[ I imagine, nothing. The clone has seen endless videos of the Count moving and mingling. He knows exactly how much distance the man puts between himself and others. It's a tell as to who he trusts and who he doesn't - how close he gets. ]

[He appreciates that save there, though he's aware it's most likely just awareness of his audience.]

Honestly? It's just because my guards get this pinched look when I make their lives harder, and then I feel badly for them.

[Gregor shoots him a wry smile as he takes his own omelette.]

[ And - miracle of miracles - the clone actually shoots back a tiny, shy smile of his own. He immediately forces himself back to seriousness a moment later, but the smile did exist.

That's a smile, too, that would never be confused for Miles'. Not to say he can't do a good Lord Vorkosigan smile, but when he's just being himself, they're worlds apart. Another point to differentiate them. ]

Sleeping lightly is a good skill, though. You shouldn't regret it.

[What a glimpse that was. Obviously he's doing something right, and wonders what it is, and how he can keep doing it. Well, he probably has a morbid bent in conversation, at least, which he can certainly oblige.

Gregor shrugs.] Because I'm likely to be killed in my sleep? I'm likely to be killed all the time, you know. It's why I didn't much react to your reveal. It's too tedious for me to live constantly worrying about it. I'd rather have the sleep.

[ Fair point. The clone finishes off the last of that omelet and unthinkingly goes for another. He's relaxing a bit, his conversation getting a little bit less awkward. ]

But you don't get what you want. No one's brain answers their commands, does it.

[Relaxing him by talking about his likelihood of assassination is new, but Gregor supposes that it must be a familiar topic for him. In any case, he doesn't mind. It's sort of... freeing, in a way, to air out all these black thoughts no one else likes to hear without wincing, or shooting back some further darkness.

This one just accepts them, matter-of-fact.]

Ha, no. [Story of his life, that problem.] But that's probably for the best, or we'd be computers. You've no idea how relieved I was that my oath-binding only works on sincere oaths.

[Seeing him take another omelette provokes Gregor into pushing the yogurt and sliced fruit in his direction, too.]

Mind-control is possible here, though, isn't it.

[ Another glance up, uneasy, when Gregor pushes food towards him, but - no mockery or danger in the Emperor's expression. So the clone grabs a handful of sliced apples.

He's not a completely bottomless pit: he's starting to slow down on the second omelet. ]

With people's powers.

Probably. If it's any consolation, we can act as a check on each other. Keep tabs.

[Gregor seems quite comfortable with this for someone who'd stared in horror at his file upon first arrival. That's what months living half in Miles's head will do you. Acclimation for anyone.

He's glad to see him slow down on eating, if only for that it means less implied worrying. Maybe he'll adjust as time goes on. Gregor is inferring some ugly things about his upbringing from this-- he'd never truly thought about how skinny Miles is for his size, since it's so obviously just from his absurd amount of energy and flinging himself pell-mell at everything, but...]

[ It's a silent sign of trust, not eating everything in sight. If the clone were more nervous, he'd be operating under the unconscious assumption that the food would go away, and so he'd be packing it in before it could be taken from him. Instead, he's eating just a bit more than would be justified for the metabolism of a seventeen-year-old six-food-odd boy. No anxiety prompting him to hoard, or to overeat just for the comfort of it. ]

Do you keep the link open all the time? With him? I could feel how...worried he was, that you shut him out while talking to me.

[ He swallows half an apple wedge.

[Aside from his policy of honesty with him, there's just no point in lying about this.]

Pretty much. With everyone else it's more like what I've set up with you. [Gregor nods at him. Just a little bit open, enough to knock on his door, so to speak, or feel if anything major happens.] But Miles... well, you have to know we grew up together. There's really nothing we were hiding from each other in the first place.

[Which is a lie at this point but Gregor is still firmly in deny-my-feelings-existence phase.]

[ That makes the clone shake his head just a bit. He looks skeptical. And his voice is firm with firsthand knowledge. ]

Growing up with someone doesn't mean not hiding anything from them. You hide plenty. And sharing emotions is different from sharing other things.

You're not wrong. But it's... different, with Miles. Even before this, we trusted each other implicitly. We had no fear of betrayal. Or even rejection, really.

[ The clone's response is blunt - a little too blunt, probably. Tact is something still beyond him. ]

Lord Vorkosigan was accused of treason a few years ago.

Because I was young and stupid enough to believe them. It was unfounded.

[There's just enough self-directed sourness there to show that he really does castigate himself over that.]

[ A little shrug. And a hesitant: ]

Well...It makes the theory of implicit trust since childhood a little more difficult.

[ He doesn't know why he's doing this - why he's prying. But he's prying. ]

[The funny thing about truly stable trust is that Gregor doesn't feel at all threatened about having it questioned by an outside source. Plus, he's giving him an uncommonly free pass to ask questions, given the circumstances. It's a unique situation so he's getting unique dispensation on prying.

He swallows a bite of food before responding.] You don't know how stable something is until you've tested the foundation. We survived that, ergo, I feel sure of our future survival.

[ The clone shakes his head. It's a gesture that says, I don't get it, but okay. He finishes his omelet and grabs another handful of apple slices. ]

I decided what I want the payment to be, by the way.

[Gregor straightens up, putting his fork down and settling his hands, eyes alert.]

Go on.

[ He stops eating for this one, putting down all of the half-eaten apple slices and settling back. His face turns hard. ]

House Bharaputra. On Jackson's Whole. They run a clone brain-transplant service. I want it broken up.

Ah. A worthy payment.

[Slowly, a wide smile overtakes Gregor's face. It has the certain color of satisfied pleasure to it.]

I so rarely get to make orders like that, you know. Unequivocally good ones. I'll enjoy it.

[ Mark draws back a little bit, his hard expression giving way to surprise. Not the reaction he'd expected. ]

You'll...do it, then?

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