Mark is bouncing around from topic to topic, prying into details, and Miles realizes he's only trying to get as much of a picture as Miles is. That's how it seems, at any rate, and Miles doesn't think he can really begrudge his clone that -- he doesn't want to. Galen filled his head with enough toxic bullshit. If his clone wants to hear it from Miles himself, then Miles isn't going to withhold.

"That's because we're kept on retainer," Miles says, one eyebrow raised. "I mean, sure, the fleet takes other contracts as they come up, but whether or not Admiral Naismith comes home with a tidy profit isn't the point. And it wouldn't exactly go in my pocket, at any rate. The Barrayaran government gives the Dendarii contracts -- covertly -- and then compensate them accordingly. Plenty to pay my men a good salary -- with benefits, mind, mercenaries care about benefits -- keep the fleet up and running, up to date with the best equipment and tech the Imperium can afford. Making a profit is...sort of a circular notion here." He taps a finger to his cracked lips, frowning slightly. "And the Dendarii aren't my bodyguards. Not that they don't occasionally act in that capacity, but they aren't here to protect me. They protect Barrayaran interests. They're not my refuge, they're my responsibility."