After he finishes with his day-job duties (separate from attending diplomatic functions to stand around and look handsome) he attempts to let himself out of the room with the comconsole and all its data to sift through, only to find that the hallway has turned into a bar.
He looks over his shoulder. The office is still normal. Which is to say there are no other exits.
Ivan goes into the bar, squinting.
"Stores has one of those machines that measures you and makes whatever you like, within extremely conservative tastes, on the spot. I'll show you and then warn Mark you're incoming."
"Miles has turned up on the doorstep," says Ivan. "I hope you weren't still planning to replace him, that would be disappointing and likely ineffective."
"Didn't ask. He'll be here for a bit and then vanish again, is my understanding, I suppose they'll have to give him his own room since you're in this one."
"'Vanish again'... yeah, he does have that habit," says Mark. "Excessively so even for an ImpSec courier. And he hasn't been heard from at all in something like six months, and now he is inexplicably and unexpectedly on Earth. What does my big brother do for a living?"
"Sure. I may redeem the knowledge of what Miles has been up to for one of Carolyn's delicious raspberry cookies. Well, if I wasn't going to find out before, I sure am now."
"It's Miles, Ivan. There is no force nor law in this mortal universe capable of preventing me from finding something out about Miles. The effect of the extra incentive is negligible."
"Nice to meet you too," says Mark. "You look like shit. And that uniform's fresh out of Stores - what happened to the clothes you arrived in? Not so filthy that they had to be stuffed down a waste chute on the spot, or it'd show, you're not freshly washed. I doubt the good captain demanded you appear in uniform so forcefully that you went and had one made up on the spot. No, I'm going to go with 'discarded as incriminating in some way'. And you didn't have a Service uniform with you to change into when you got here. All together, this rather spells 'undercover agent', and one whose clothes would make him if he appeared in them before unauthorized persons. That suggests a military uniform to me. Some mercenary outfit, probably. With your insubordination problems I can't imagine you working for one very long without getting summarily shot, so you probably command them. Well, that was easy. Pay up, Ivan."
Ivan hands Mark one of the raspberry cookies. (He then also waves one at Miles as an attempt at consolation.) "I did not help, I swear."
"What," he says, "the hell, Ivan."
"What, were you expecting him to take after me? And he hasn't had your scope of adventure as an outlet. He does this sort of thing all the time, although that one was particularly impressive."