vor | Sixth Cream Cake: [Written/Action]

[Filtered to Ivan Vorpatril, 65% unhackable because it's early and he's sick.]

Ivan,

Would you please look in on the horse for me? The Imperial Ass seems to be having trouble getting out of bed today, as the Imperial Sniffles have turned into the Imperial Plague. We apologize for Our impending death and your impending resulting frustrations.

Regretfully,

Gregor

P.S. If this letter caused you alarm, please give yourself a refresher course in detecting the Imperial Sarcasm.

[/Filtered]

[Gregor is sick as a dog. Apartments adjacent to his have probably heard violent, deep, chesty coughing for about two weeks now. Ordinarily, he'd have on-site approved physicians checking him out and prescribing whatever antibiotic was necessary, but here, he has to actually go seek out help. So. To the Battle Dome clinic he goes, looking specifically to see Adele LeBlanc when she's in. He will wait for her, if necessary.

Afterwards, he's going to the library, then the bakery for coffee and something sweet. Anyone stopping in can see him sitting inside, devouring a psychology textbook and sipping coffee, the cream cakes reduced to crumbs. They are the only thing he has eaten all day. He is not looking great, occasionally falling into bad coughing fits, for which he ducks outside, but recovering fairly quickly. When he heads home, he goes straight to bed despite his plans to work out. And the fact that it's the middle of the day.]

[Filtered to Phoenix Ikki 79%]

PI--

I suppose we're supposed to be pen pals, whatever that entails. I hope you're adjusting to the village well.

--GB

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You're not taking into account any number of phobias that might be acquired before sickness. Either way, we just met. My level of intelligence shouldn't be that important to you.

It isn't.

[It's just a bad reminder of things that are.]

Then why do you ask? [He seems...almost concerned. Mild, regardless.]

You've got a bad cough.

No one else has pulled me aside and chided me like I'm their somewhat backward five-year-old. [Would you believe it sounds good-natured?] Except perhaps my physician, but she does that regardless.

[All he'll get for that is a shrug.]

You should listen to her.

I did. I'm taking my medicine, getting a bite to eat, and going home to rest.

[She gives his cream cake a critical eye.]

She probably meant something more than just dessert.

Probably. [He sits back and looks at his own cream cake with a sigh.] Consider it my one deviation from the spirit of her law.

Your only one? [She's not quick to trust, which is why she raises an eyebrow.]

Thus far.

Wrong answer.

Mademoiselle, I'm not taking lessons from you.

No, but it probably won't be that hard to find a female doctor treating a guy named Greg with bronchitis. Just to let her know about the law breaking you're thinking of doing.

Doctor-patient confidentiality. Besides, even she would probably tell you it's not your concern.

But you're hers. So even if she doesn't tell me a thing, what are the chances she won't get on your case?

Unless you want to say that this is going to be your only deviation at all.

Then that's her right. She's the expert, and if she thinks my bronchial tubes can't handle a couple of cream cakes, I'll defer to her.

[It's a clever answer. Enough to get a grin from Amelia.]

You don't give easily.

I'm learning. [The tiny, somewhat shy smile he gives is warm, compared to the stiff glumness he was displaying.]

[That's a good thing. He's let Amelia get some of her frustration out of her system--especially since it's so likely he'll get better.]

And you really aren't that sick, despite the cough?

It sounds worse than it is. I'll be fine in a week, with antibiotics.

...Just like that.

[It sounds so simple, the way he says it.]

[He watches her carefully. Was it not so easy for this young woman, or someone she knew? Did she live in a place of poverty, or before the invention of antibiotics?]

When and where are you from?

You've got a bad habit of not answering questions.

[But Amelia's willing to reply to his.]

Gunsmoke. And if you don't know the name, there's no point in me telling you the year. You?

Barrayar. It's from the same dimension as Earth, if you're familiar, but...but I'm from a lot further in the future than most Earthers here.

[Now that the need to be defensive has gone, he goes back to being naturally shy.]