[ About an hour of silence. Then, roughly, Miles' door is opened. Byerly stalks in, shoulders set and face immobile, clearly furious. He drops a small mountain of bags - some with pills, some with powders, some with plant life - on Miles' desk, then stiffly turns to go without a word. ]
[ Was that he right call? Maybe not. Miles had paced in his room after the last text, waiting fruitlessly for a response. When Byerly finally shows up with the bag - no, bags - he jumps, startled by the noise and the sheer amount. ]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Wait - please.
no subject
Is that an order, sire?
no subject
[ He's alarmed by the sheer volume and variety here. ]
no subject
Sufficiently shocking, I hope, to give you a nice voyeuristic thrill.
no subject
I wanted to know what I was dealing with. What you were dealing with.
no subject
What I am dealing with. [ Not you. ]
no subject
When did this start?
no subject
When do you think?
no subject
no subject
no subject
This much in that amount of time?
no subject
Sire, if it's still there, that means I haven't taken it yet.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Do you intend to stop that as well?
no subject
Why would I?
no subject
The temptation was clearly too great.
no subject
Barrayar is not going to be rebuilt through lofty dreams and naive hopes, sire. Many things are needed. Money among them.
no subject
[ He has no room to talk, given his lofty position of bringing in minimal cash himself. ]
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)