[Prince Serg's shadow is keenly felt on Gregor right now, for all that the late afternoon sunlight filtering over the rim of the world on the ocean should make him feel none of it. Miles's guilt makes him feel badly in turn, and he gently tries to close down some of the link, so it's a trickle instead of an open faucet, intentionally pushing quiet assurance at Miles.

He's all right. He hates this topic, but it's something he can bear. Just perhaps not with a mental spectator.]

I've never even thought about it, [he admits. Not him and Miles specifically, but Gregor and men, which he knows is the real topic.] Not with every weddable Vor female being thrown at me in hopes she might cross my path.

... No matter how much sense it would make, I don't think that's something I could-- pretend at. Not again after Cavilo. No, definitely not. It's not you, it's just, [he struggles to find the words,] I want this one last thing to be mine. Untouched by the Imperium or anything else.