God. That's a lot. Six to nine per day. He eats a lot, too much, and that's still so much more than he eats...He's distracted from his desperate attempts to formulate some plan to alleviate her hunger by that question.

Right. Because the fact that they treat him like that, starve him and beat him - it doesn't make much sense if he's supposed to be Lord Vorkosigan, does it? He's quiet a long moment, trying to come up with a plan for this, some brilliant story that'll preserve his cover and the Komarrans' story, keep her in the dark, without him outright lying to her. Because he doesn't want to lie to her, he's finding. You don't lie to your creche-mates. They're the only ones you can expect any truth from.

"There are things I'm not really supposed to have. Like food." A hesitation. More truth: "And weapons. I still haven't proven myself completely trustworthy. I'm lacking in discipline, in a lot of ways. Once I prove I'm disciplined, then it's a possibility." But Ser Galen...Ser Galen still thinks, maybe, that the violence and madness of his genetic destiny will prevail over his loyalty to the cause. So he just needs to prove his loyalty to the cause. Even if it's hard, sometimes. He rubs his stomach, grimacing at the dull, empty ache.

Then, suddenly, he asks, "You probably know how to teach combat, right?"