[Aral leans back in his seat. There isn't offense, a burst of his famous anger, or worse, the slam closed of that narrow window of honesty here. Instead, that heavy, brooding stare remains on Mark.

That one, blurted phrase actually answered the one question he had. Who are you? It made his capitulation to Lucifer make just as much sense as the betrayal. A man who isn't used to options... and a man who desperately wants at least one. He knew that feeling.

The choice Gregor gave him really wasn't much of one at all. Not really. Take our hand or have yours cut off. Stubbornness and spite could make it a decision, but it wasn't really much of one.

At length, he begins to speak, a thoughtful quiet in his low voice.]

I can't offer you much. Barrayar has a way of stripping it. In some ways, I imagine Miles' manic disregard was his only way of fighting that.

But I can give you one for certain...