Their first clue probably should have been the fact that the seats in the theater were only half-full, and most of their fellow patrons seemed to be well over the age of forty, fifty, even. But, whatever -- no judgment here, and perhaps the dark of the cinema is the only place the really stuffy old Vor types can allow themselves to have any fun. Not that Miles is really inclined to think that hard about it. Besides, when you see a holofilm titled The Blush of a Desert Rose at Dusk, how much time do you really spend thinking about why other people are here to see it?

But the lights dim and the music starts along with the opening sequence, fading from black, and Miles is instantly full of regret. Abort, abort, abort, they should've just gone back to Vorkosigan House for the air conditioning instead of the cineplex, this is not a racy softcore Betan flick.