maskormenacelogs | Oh my love

[It's just before opening on an early February morning that a middle aged man knocks firmly on the service door to the Lucky Cat Cafe. He's a tall, stocky sort of man, dressed in a pressed, green military uniform. He looks distinctly out of place, and carrying paperwork for a government job assignment.

He looks mildly, and openly bewildered for a moment when the door is opened for him. He draws himself up.]

Vorkosigan, reporting for ... this assignment.

[Amazingly, Admiral Lord Aral Vorkosigan, Lord Regent of Barrayar had not quit after a few days of trying his hand at a civilian job. Had anyone in the household even been inclined to bet against it, they would have probably made a killing.

Perhaps it had been that air of expectation of failure. There is certainly nothing that gets Barrayaran's stubbornness keyed up to 20 faster. Perhaps it had been the glittering delight in Cordelia's eyes when they'd talked about it or her scalpel sharp analysis of why he balked at it, initially. Or maybe he was honestly starting to enjoy it. There was something soothing about the precise, repetitious work, and even the loudest, most hurried customer certainly didn't put him off. And frankly, there was an enormous amount of unguarded conversation.

No wonder ImpSec agents often kept service roles.

He doesn't call next, merely looks up and gestures to the waiting customer in line with a quick, perfunctory gesture.]

Your order?

[Even now he has a tone of dry humor.]

Edited 2016-02-07 00:27 (UTC)

[After all of the noise and commotion of those first tumultuous days, the easiest place after work (Aral continues to refer to it as his assignment), was the small library afforded by the townhouse. Each day, the piles of books, newspapers and disks began to accumulate. There were notes in Aral's cramped handwriting, detailing everything from the modern to ancient history of this world, tabs and notations sticking out of each.

Tonight isn't any different, the light from the comm mixes a bit unflatteringly with the light of the holo display of one of the datacubes he'd brought with him.]

Come in.

[The military uniform he'd been ported in with was about as conspicuous in this political climate as his guttural, near Russian accent. For lack of being able to completely discard the latter, the former would have to do. The answer was a tailor, clearly.

But as most American infrastructure planning goes, the road he's looking for terminated some miles west and restarted here, as a similar, but not quite the same road. Troubling, mostly, for its acute lack of not being anywhere near where he wants to be.

It unfortunately, was one of those areas that completely baffled the mapping devices on the comm units. Without much other option, he flags a passerby.]

Excuse me.

[ Since Maya had shown her the cafe and she met the owner, Cass, Tex has made an effort to visit. It's not like buying a cup of coffee every now and then would kill her and it'd be supporting a friend, something she seemed to have a lot more of here than she did back home.

When she enters, her helmet is tucked beneath her arm, but otherwise is wearing normal, civilian clothes. She had learned long ago that going everywhere in her armor drew too much attention and even the helmet is more for convenience and a lack of desire to buy an actual one for her motorcycle.

The man servicing the counter is new and looks very, very out of place. She raises a brow as she subtly looks him over, but it doesn't stop her from giving her order. ] Small coffee, light on the creamer.

[The quick glance he gives her quickly turns into an evaluating one as he sets down the cup and gathers the carafe. The helmet looks quite similar to a commander's helm and his attention noticeably lingers there.]

Enlisted?

[It could be innocuous enough. Many places did offer a discount. Though at this range, his name tag is quite legible.]

[ Gregor had knocked lightly on the open door, then waited for permission to enter, still silently reveling just a little in the turnabout of that. It would probably take him ages to get over it. The link with Aral is firmly closed, but he's more than aware that he has a duty to discharge with that; at the very least he needs to ask him about his preferences regarding it, and teach him something about shielding.

He gets diverted immediately by the gleam of that holo display. ]

You came with datacubes? What's on them?

[ Instantly, he wonders if they can sell these to Tony Stark, too... Though he'd already seemed to have holo displays. Would he be interested? ]

Back home.

[ Oh, she sees that name tag. And she's staring at it. Vorkosigan? Is he the same Lord Vorkosigan than Miles is supposedly a clone of? Her gaze shifts back to his face as she searches for a familial resemblance. ]

New here, Vorkosigan?

[ Assignment, god. Miles had stopped by the café out of sheer curiosity - and walked straight back out, trying not to die of laughter. He knows that café. Of course his father would get assigned there, of all places ... He wonders if he ought to offer him a place in the proto-Dendarii instead.

Not tonight. It hasn't been long since Aral's arrival, definitely before Miles' second encounter with Lucifer. There are things the two of them need to discuss without Gregor there, a much as Miles desperately trusts his Emperor. He quietly shutters the link - All is well, I just want to talk with Da - and steps in.

That ... is a lot of paper. And research. A stab of inadequacy over their link at that as Miles mentally compares what he's done with the month he's had here. (He can blame at least two weeks of that on Russia and the aftermath, though.) ]

... You really don't stop, do you.

[In stature, build and weight there couldn't be a larger disparity between himself and Miles. Tall, thickly built, solid. The bearing is off entirely, as closed as Naismith is easy and open.

But there's the jawline, the set of the eyes, the same grey.

The coffee is poured out before he answers.]

I've been here scarcely a handful of days.

[He reaches - out of habit - to shut it down. It's left on.]

On this, nothing. I was looking to see if I could get the comm to interface. The other has the plans for the rebuild of the Imperial Residence. I was supposed to give my approval... yesterday.

[ Miles' clone cover had included details as to why he managed to break free - namely his growth defects. There's enough similarity there, but the man doesn't look old enough to need a new body. Was he from earlier on the timeline? Brother to the asshole? Or did he have a back up body ready to go?

This damn place left too many possibilities open. She'll have to talk to Miles and see if this is the same man. Cass might want to know who she has in her employment.

Outwardly, she nods and keeps a calm expression even as her mind churns. ] This a job you were assigned or did you find it by yourself?

[He looks up as Miles enters, expression turning warm a moment, and then chased with a slight frown at the note of inadequacy. He closed the data cube and the comm, and gestured to the other chair in the room.]

Slowing down has always struck me as a bit... permanent.

[De Chima is not precisely an easy city to map out anyway. Perhaps he doesn't recognize her at first because he catches her from the back, and not at all from the front, and because she's going to her job and she dresses in skirts to go to this one (as opposed to scrubs for the other one) or perhaps he's just so lost that he doesn't think to look at her properly, but she turns and sees him and there's a smile there.

She seems, at least, unbothered.]

I hope you have not been seeking my care again, my lord Admiral's father.

[She didn't get his name.]

[ Miles lowers himself into it, that note of inadequacy just growing for a moment. He feels like he's younger again, about to get taught a tactics lesson. ]

I normally agree whole-heartedly. But - well, Gregor and I decided early on that we ought to at least try to take some sort of vacation.

[ Well, this is...

Awkward.

Kitty stares at the barista with her mouth open a long moment. And then a little bit of color comes into her cheeks, enough to turn her face quite red. And then she clears her throat. ]

Erm...Sure. A...soy milk mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso and a shot of mint syrup. Please. Lord Vorkosigan.

Assigned. I admit it would not have been my first choice.

[Or second. Or third. Or even on his radar at all. He's curious enough to delay just a little in fetching the cream.]

I take it, there is an ... interesting appearance from it.

[She's not alone. There's no color to his face, but there's the way he seems to freeze, stiffness starting at the shoulders and spreading from there.

This HAD been close to where they'd stopped for coffee. Or was it the same shop. Of course.]

That... is different than the last time.

[Still, he manages a nod, breaking that freeze, composure pulled back around him.]

Of course, Miss Jones.

A little. I wouldn't peg you as a coffee slinger if I saw you on the streets.

[ She glances at her coffee for only a second, but makes no move to rush him. This isn't how she imagined Lord Vorkosigan to look if that's who he really is. ]

You know you can find work elsewhere, right?

Erm - yeah. I don't like to order the same thing twice.

[ She drums her fingers a little nervously on the counter. ]

Are you...really working here?

[That... was an interesting thought. It possibly feels odd to Miles, along that connection, a sort of train of thought and emotional stutter.

He... certainly could. But why?]

Ah. Have you been enjoying it?

[It's morning. He made that horrible decision to start a running routine in the mornings before Felix got ported out and now he can't fucking stop waking up at the ass crack of dawn, so he may as well do something with it.

But he'll gladly take any excuse to stop once he's started so he gets flagged down and jogs to a stop.]

Yeah? What's up?

To be honest, we haven't gotten to it yet. Things keep happening. I ended up kidnapped for a week and a half, and then you showed up ...

[ A trace of amusement at that mental stutter, though. His father really never does slow down. ]

[ He was about to ask if he'd had any luck getting it to interface, but suspects the answer is no, and in any case this other conversational thread leads more where he wants to go.

Gregor slips into the room properly and takes a seat in an arm chair, his own stack of books neatly aligned on the end table. ]

Disorienting, isn't it? The first few days I kept waiting for someone to rush up asking me why I wasn't sticking to my schedule.

[The surprise on his face warms to a welcome.]

Admiral Count Aral Vorkosigan, my Lady. [He supplies, politely, sketching a simple bow.]

Fortunately, everyone is well. This is chance.

Oh my love

[Aunt Cass and Lucky Cat Cafe Staff]

[Lucky Cat Cafe, Heropa]

[De Chima 007]

[Lost]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Hello.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

please lord let this be the only log thread I do all month

no subject

no subject

Gosh! GOOD!