[ Perhaps contrary to expectation, Gregor's interest fades and turns remote, an absolute blank slate, as he stares at him back. Being addressed as Prince in perfect Barrayaran Russian had tossed him right back into his regal, disaffected attitude, regardless of his grimy, deathly bored circumstances. ]
Thank you, [ he says politely, in formal verbage and clipped tones, ] but I would rather not be rescued.
[ Like hell he's going back to Barrayar. Like hell. ... And why is his supposed savior in brown and silver? What is going on-- just who is he pretending to be? No one uses those colors anymore. If he's faking, pretending just to lure Gregor away, he could be in extreme danger of a lot more than grimy boredom. ]
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Thank you, [ he says politely, in formal verbage and clipped tones, ] but I would rather not be rescued.
[ Like hell he's going back to Barrayar. Like hell. ... And why is his supposed savior in brown and silver? What is going on-- just who is he pretending to be? No one uses those colors anymore. If he's faking, pretending just to lure Gregor away, he could be in extreme danger of a lot more than grimy boredom. ]