Miles quietly clears his throat at figured out about Naismith, a quiet but, he hopes, clear sign to nix that in the bud. Not when they're not alone. See? There's another risk Miles took by taking Mark on board. He's a walking security risk on about seven different levels. But Miles took him anyway.
The Dendarii lieutenant returns with a few MREs, and Miles waves him and the other couple of mercenaries still in the room out, politely requesting that they shut the door on the way out. He doesn't know if that'll set Mark more or less at ease, honestly, but at least this way he doesn't have to risk somebody overhearing something they ought not to.
It isn't until then that Miles finally permits himself to sit down opposite his clone, and he almost instantly regrets doing so. Oh, hell. He should've stayed standing up. He's going to have a hell of a time getting himself back on his feet after this. Ah, but the lieutenant had brought coffee, blessed coffee -- Miles reaches for that first and downs half the cup in one go. It scalds a little on the way down. He'll be paying for this later, but as long as later includes no one dead, his cover still intact, and eighteen million marks in his pocket, he'll live with it.
"Well," he says brightly, with a puff of breath to cool his burned mouth, "within the first fifteen minutes of my arrival on Dagoola IV, five of the schoolyard's premier bullies kicked me down, kicked me some more, stole my clothes, and left me naked on the ground with a couple of cracked ribs." He very tenderly touches a finger to his lip -- no longer bleeding. He chances a very small, if a bit gray, smile. "A split lip doesn't really rank."
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The Dendarii lieutenant returns with a few MREs, and Miles waves him and the other couple of mercenaries still in the room out, politely requesting that they shut the door on the way out. He doesn't know if that'll set Mark more or less at ease, honestly, but at least this way he doesn't have to risk somebody overhearing something they ought not to.
It isn't until then that Miles finally permits himself to sit down opposite his clone, and he almost instantly regrets doing so. Oh, hell. He should've stayed standing up. He's going to have a hell of a time getting himself back on his feet after this. Ah, but the lieutenant had brought coffee, blessed coffee -- Miles reaches for that first and downs half the cup in one go. It scalds a little on the way down. He'll be paying for this later, but as long as later includes no one dead, his cover still intact, and eighteen million marks in his pocket, he'll live with it.
"Well," he says brightly, with a puff of breath to cool his burned mouth, "within the first fifteen minutes of my arrival on Dagoola IV, five of the schoolyard's premier bullies kicked me down, kicked me some more, stole my clothes, and left me naked on the ground with a couple of cracked ribs." He very tenderly touches a finger to his lip -- no longer bleeding. He chances a very small, if a bit gray, smile. "A split lip doesn't really rank."