What a lovely little carving you have there. You really do have such impeccable taste, you Harmonians.
[ By turns, and opens the door, and steps through into a drawing room. This is not, however, Nash's drawing room. This is a room on Barrayar, a room By knows intimately well - a rather close space, one that smells of cinnamon and cologne, with slightly ragged furniture and a worn wooden floor and stains on the walls. The receiving room of the esteemed and handsome Kirill, the smiling and charming actor who ran with the town clowns. Five years older than Byerly was, back then, but a hundred times more worldly.
They're sitting in the drawing room, the worldly-and-unworldly duo. By's in his mid-twenties, clean-shaven but already with that air of stinking dissolution that marked his older self. Kirill has handed By a glass of wine, but By isn't drinking just yet; he gingerly rolls the stem between his fingers, an uncertain look on his face.
"They arrested Rudolph," the young Byerly finally says.
Kirill smiles and says nothing for a long while. He watches By all the while. Finally, evenly, he says, "They did. Does that upset you?"
"No," By answers quietly.
A moment, and then Kirill asks, "And does it upset you that the information leading to his arrest - that it came from you?" By's lips tighten, like he's taken a willing bite of something but isn't certain how he feels about the taste. It takes a moment to decide; when he does, finally, his lips relax, and he reports -
"No." And then, seeking some sort of confirmation - "You gave that information to them. Didn't you?" ]
Ah.
[ By looks on the scene with a little surprise, but no shame or anxiety. He looks over at Nash and says - ]
Look - it's my old spymaster. Handsome devil, isn't he?
no subject
[ By turns, and opens the door, and steps through into a drawing room. This is not, however, Nash's drawing room. This is a room on Barrayar, a room By knows intimately well - a rather close space, one that smells of cinnamon and cologne, with slightly ragged furniture and a worn wooden floor and stains on the walls. The receiving room of the esteemed and handsome Kirill, the smiling and charming actor who ran with the town clowns. Five years older than Byerly was, back then, but a hundred times more worldly.
They're sitting in the drawing room, the worldly-and-unworldly duo. By's in his mid-twenties, clean-shaven but already with that air of stinking dissolution that marked his older self. Kirill has handed By a glass of wine, but By isn't drinking just yet; he gingerly rolls the stem between his fingers, an uncertain look on his face.
"They arrested Rudolph," the young Byerly finally says.
Kirill smiles and says nothing for a long while. He watches By all the while. Finally, evenly, he says, "They did. Does that upset you?"
"No," By answers quietly.
A moment, and then Kirill asks, "And does it upset you that the information leading to his arrest - that it came from you?" By's lips tighten, like he's taken a willing bite of something but isn't certain how he feels about the taste. It takes a moment to decide; when he does, finally, his lips relax, and he reports -
"No." And then, seeking some sort of confirmation - "You gave that information to them. Didn't you?" ]
Ah.
[ By looks on the scene with a little surprise, but no shame or anxiety. He looks over at Nash and says - ]
Look - it's my old spymaster. Handsome devil, isn't he?