(closed)

[naismith]

Characters: Miles Vorkosigan, Diana of Themyscira
Date: Backdated about a week?
Location: An unnamed bar in Metal sector.
Situation: Miles has somehow conned poor Diana into meeting him for drinks.
Warnings/Rating: None!


Motivated as he is to make connections and allies, Miles is prompt. He's swapped out the Vorkosigan house uniform he'd arrived in for kedan clothes already, wanting to blend in as much as possible, which is actually more achievable for him here than at home. With the kedan being shapeshifters, it's not unfeasible to run across one under five feet tall, which Miles is. He walks with his spine straight as he enters the bar, unconsciously compensating for his slight hunch, nonetheless confident and uncowed by his circumstances.

By habit, he picks a small table in the far corner, where it's impossible to sneak up on him. He doesn't have more than his stunner with him and he's not expecting combat, but it makes him feel better nonetheless, to be armed and in a secured corner in this incredibly foreign land, completely alone.

No, he's good. It's okay. He has a plan forming. There's no reason to feel overwhelmed.

Miles has two drinks waiting already when Diana arrives, both untouched.

Comments

[mythically]

"I've gotten used to my reputation preceding me," she has, nodding. And that's a responsibility in and of itself, because she knows what Wonder Woman means to the world. She'd never want to let anyone down, in that regard. (It's a short leap from that line of thought to thinking about what happened to Max, but thankfully she doesn't make it, right now.)

"It's strange, isn't it? How much your world shapes you." She's had more than enough experience with that, coming from Themyscira into man's world. Nearly everything she says is misinterpreted, and half the time she can't understand how anyone in the outside world could think the way they do. "I could tell you about the Justice League-- but if our worlds look at justice differently, we might not understand each other at all."

[naismith]

"That I'm familiar with. I'm very galactic for a Barrayaran. I've visited half the known galaxy. Cultural differences are one thing, but-- but there's always something." Miles waves his hands, leaving his drink on the table, very sincerely disgruntled and dismayed with his new reality. "I can look them up on the consoles, for God's sake, if I want to know more about a Jacksonian House or a Komarran shipping company. I can call for backup if I really need it.

"Here--" He cuts off, trying to rein in his displeasure. He doesn't want to be a horrible drink companion, after he'd lured her out here. "Sorry. I'm still adjusting. Maybe it's my lack of reputation that's getting to me. There's no reason for anyone to listen to me, here, and I've worked damn hard for that."

Miles does feed off of recognition. He's put a truly unbelievable amount of work, and years, into gaining his talents and the ability to force others to allow his involvement. Now he has to start all over. Which he's done before, but it'd always been temporary, until he could get back to the right place; or there'd been a fallback position for him somewhere if it didn't work. Miles has never hedged all his bets so completely on one sense of identity before.

[mythically]

"It's alright," she says. She smiles, in her calm, serene way. "You're allowed to be frustrated, and this place is an adjustment to make."

Diana sips at her drink, thoughtful for a moment.

"It's a shame to start over, but you may have some advantages here. We're a small community, and we rely on one another out of necessity. The more we all work together, listen to each other, the quicker we'll be able to solve this world's problems and return to our own."

[naismith]

"I'm usually good at adjusting," he grumps, taking her cue and sipping at his own. This is a significant pill to swallow even for him.

Nonetheless, Miles nods in ready agreement. "I have no argument against cooperation, believe me. I might be a paranoid bastard but it's not out of unwillingness to pool resources. I'm painfully aware I don't have any resources at the moment, but I'm willing-- even eager-- to contribute what I can. I detest feeling useless."

[mythically]

"With an attitude like that, I'm sure you won't be."

It's natural for Diana to be encouraging, but she's also used to speaking the truth. In this case, it'd be both at once.

"My friends and associates who are here already... according to them, it's been a long haul so far. I can't see how anyone willing to help wouldn't be able to."

[naismith]

Miles is so pathologically allergic to being useless that he undoubtedly won't be. His complete rebellion of it ensures it.

"I have a considerable skill set," he offers, much like he's making a pitch. Miles is a few swallows into his drink now, and as he'd warned, it's already affecting him. He shifts into an oddly convincing, intent cadence without realizing it, his accent sliding from vaguely Russian to flat and nearly American. "Not really relevant for any paid employment I could find here-- except drains, ugh, never again-- but if any of your friends and associates think they could make use of skill in strategy, military command, espionage, investigation... mmm, personnel in general... please give them my name."

[mythically]

She's more than used to people getting drunk before her. Though she's drained her glass, Diana still seems just as lucid as ever. But she notices the changes in Miles' demeanor and can't help but smile. The oscillating accent, at least, she finds somewhat endearing. But that doesn't mean she isn't listening, or taking him seriously.

"I think coordination between all of us Foreigners would be an improvement. And if you're familiar with large-scale efforts, perhaps that's where you could help most."