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Ivan goes off while the computer is still handling textiles, leaving Miles with directions to the room they will be sharing.

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So as soon as he has his kit - and has changed into dress greens, the better to avoid being caught in the hall still in his Dendarii grey-and-whites - Miles bundles up everything he isn't wearing and trundles directly to said room to put it all away.

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Where Ivan is sitting at the comconsole.

"So I called your wife. Does she have nightmares about Illyan or something? I told her you were here in the clear same as me, just temporarily, but she told me she was not supposed to know anything about where you are if it's not on Barrayar."
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"I - no - it - fuck," says Miles, throwing up his hands in an explosive gesture that scatters his neatly stacked armload of clothes halfway across the room.

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"That is who you did not guess is on the planet," chirps Ivan.

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"I had arrived at that conclusion, thank you, Ivan."

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"Is she under that much ImpSec suspicion? I mean - if Galeni assigns you a bodyguard and sends you out with me we'll attend parties and so on. Be seen. And in your case addressed as 'Lord Vorkosigan'. Linyabel's mostly visiting a neuroscientist friend in Greece but she's been up to London a couple of times and I've even run into her at a party, she said she was invited for novelty value."
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...Miles sighs.

"Oh, fuck it," he says, getting on the floor to start cleaning up the rain of assorted menswear. "Call her back."
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"And you will calm her down on the security front?" Ivan asks, placing the call. "And let her come visit you and calm you the hell down? I can abscond from the room for three, four hours, just let me know."

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Miles answers this line of inquiry with a quiet growl, directed more at a spray of socks than at Ivan.

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Mercifully, the mix of Dendarii and unincriminating clothes is all on the other side of the comconsole.

"What is it this time, Ivan?" asks Linya's voice tiredly.
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"Ask him!"

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Miles desists in his cleanup efforts to get up and come around Ivan's desk into view of the vid pickup.

"I miss you," he says. He means a lot of other things to go along with it, but the words get all tangled up together, evasions and half-truths and carefully censored accounts of his mood all rolling up into an ugly knot in his throat. The fact that he misses his wife cannot possibly be classified by any definition.
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"I miss you too - are you here or aren't you? Am I even supposed to ask?"

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He sighs.

"I am, officially, publicly, briefly, here. Naturally I can't say a word about where I came from or where I'm going or when or what took me so long or why I feel like inexpertly defrosted hell, but I don't think anyone will have a security heart attack if you come by the embassy and give me a hug."
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"Well, then, I will get off my conveyance at the next stop and turn around, Dr. Cheung can wait, I imagine. I'll be there in - perhaps two hours, depending on the schedule." It appears that she's taking the call from her pen, since it's not hanging from her neck, she's wearing earbugs, and the view occasionally bobs.

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"All right. I love you." He dredges up a smile from somewhere. It looks tired.

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"I love you too. I'll be there soon. You look exhausted; I will not be offended by limited hospitality if I show up and you're taking a nap."

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"Noted." He manages a somewhat brighter smile.

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Linya blows a kiss at the display.

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Miles mimes catching it and tucking it carefully in the breast pocket of his dress uniform.

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She giggles, and waves, and hangs up.

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"There. That should have you behaving like a human being in no time."

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He waves a halfhearted rude gesture in front of Ivan's face and then goes back to cleaning up his clothing spill.

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Ivan, perhaps in an attempt to be conciliatory, helps.

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