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[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly Vorrutyer is sitting in front of a piano, fingers on the keys. Byerly Vorrutyer is also, apparently, drunk. There's a bottle of brandy in front of him balanced beside the music rack that's two-thirds drained, and there's a tiny sway in his posture, and he looks sloppy - suit coat opened, shirt-collar loosened. When he speaks, his voice slurs. But as he talks, he plays Chopin beautifully, expressively. He only misses the very occasional note. ]

God help me, but this place is dull. And I know from dull. I spent an entire season - an entire season! - on the Vorinnis estate on the South Continent. If Lady Vorinnis hadn't been there to distract me with all her deliciousness, I'd have actually, literally, died of boredom. I nearly set fire to the whole taiga. Roasted all the little birdies and rabbits and peasants. Pheasants. Peasants. Whichever.

[ He sighs mournfully, casting a sorrowful glance at the camera. ]

Say, fellows, how does a man have fun around here? It's clear no one knows how to play whist, so that's out, and dueling for laughs seems tacky. I've already watched a few of you brutes bash one another's faces in, which had its charms and no doubt, but the time for that is over. I can't play bed, wed, behead with you, because you're all proles of no account and no education who wouldn't know the high-society names I mention to you. Oh!

[ He sits up a bit, stopping his playing mid-note, right before the end of the first section of the piece. What a musical anticlimax. ]

I've got one. I'll write limericks about you. Tell me a bit about yourself, and I'll write limericks. Go on, do. They'll be funny, I promise - this is one of my favorite games. Absolutely kills at parties.

[ And then, with a small bow - ]

Byerly Vorrutyer, Emperor of Barrayar, at your lyrical service.

Comments

[vorrutyer]

[ His smile flattens for just a moment before turning genuine again. ]

Not exactly. Tsar's an older term. We don't use it anymore - you'll forgive me the anachronism in service of poetry. I'll sacrifice so very much in service of poetry. It was good whiskey, wasn't it?

[doggo]

[Even though he's out of sight himself, Sirius doesn't so much as smile, even though he knows that was a hit. He's just that cool.]

It was. Not at all the fouler stuff you promised it to be. You're surprisingly good at misrepresenting yourself--pretending to be cheap when your idea of entertainment is sitting about playing piano and writing poetry.

[vorrutyer]

Piano music and poetry are free, dear fellow. [ To illustrate, he plays a one-handed little ditty, noodling around. ]

[doggo]

And suspiciously posh when combined, but all right. Where'd you find a piano?

[vorrutyer]

Broke into someone's house.

[doggo]

And you consider a piano more entertaining than a repeat performance.

[vorrutyer]

[ With a laugh - ]

You want me to film myself breaking into someone's house? Dear heavens, dear fellow, you want me to end up in prison.

[doggo]

You've already admitted to it. Might as well entertain the rest of us.

[vorrutyer]

[ And his smile once again goes a bit humorless. Then, he says, irritated enough to be artless - though still with a tone that's light, wry - ]

Well done, dear soldier. You've sussed me out. I've actually just finished screwing the fellow who owns this place - literally, not figuratively. He's currently asleep in his room. Shall I wake him up for another go? I can film that for your interest and edification.

[doggo]

[For his part, the corner of Sirius' mouth pulls, not quite a smirk or a from or really anything at all. More an acknowledgement of a TMI fact. Cool cool cool.]

Not my style or my interest, but thanks for the offer.

['Thanks'.]

I'm not a soldier.

[vorrutyer]

[ Ah, too bad. Byerly had been hoping for something a bit more than that - a stammer or a blush or anger or something. Pity. Still, he considers that exchange to be a victory for him, even if it was a slightly pyrrhic one. ]

Are you not? Tell me, my little star, how much importance do you place upon the war you fight versus everything else in your life?

[doggo]

I did introduce myself to you, yeah? Sirius Black. Easy name. And there isn't a war any longer. It was over well before I came here.

If you mean before it ended, then yeah, I'd have done anything for our side. But that doesn't make me a solider.

[vorrutyer]

Then who are you, most esteemed Sirius of house Black? If you're not a soldier, what do you live for?

[doggo]

[Sirius of house Black is worse than soldier, even if it's true. It still makes Sirius want to bite something. Dog instincts.]

My friends. And for doing the right thing, no matter what. If that puts me in a war, so be it.

[vorrutyer]

Ah.

[ He taps his lips. His smile is broad and mocking. ]

And what would happen if your friends weren't doing the right thing? Why, I suppose that would tear you apart.

[doggo]

No. [This one's easy.] I'd kill them.

Anything else?

[vorrutyer]

[ That...actually gives Byerly a bit of pause. His lips part just a moment, and his eyes narrow the slightest bit, and he takes a moment to take in a breath. ]

Really. You'd kill them.

[doggo]

If the wrong thing that they were doing deserved their dying, yeah. I would.

[I'm going to is the more actionable version of that sentiment. He thinks, again, of James, a half a hundred instances of James at once--first year on the Hogwarts Express, third year smoking stolen cigarettes in a courtyard--leaned over the draft of the Map--stood in the stacks of the Restricted Section well after dark and levitating a book off the topmost shelf--in his bedroom at the Potter's house, smiling down at Sirius from his bed while Sirius kipped on the floor--his chin in Sirius' back as they flew on the motorbike--his face with teartracks on it--his face, smiling, at his wedding--as he tucked back the blanket Harry was wrapped in--as he put his arms around Sirius on the front steps of the cottage, I'll see you soon, Padfoot.

And then he thinks of Harry, nearly that same face but drawn and serious and grim. I don't reckon my dad would have wanted them to become killers.]

In a second, I would.

[vorrutyer]

[ The smile is nearly faded now. His gaze is intent. ]

I didn't think you were that hard. My word. I had taken you for someone with a bit more...

[doggo]

Yeah.

[Sirius' smile is thin. He doesn't need to know how that sentence would end. He can pick up on the context.]

Well. I'm not. Apologies for being shocking.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, never apologize for that. I enjoy someone who's a bit shocking.

[ Normally, yes. In this context...Well. Perhaps it is rich, coming to someone whose income comes from faithlessness, but...Barrayarans value loyalty. To place righteousness above loyalty...

Well. It certainly marks Sirius Black as being a certain kind of person, By thinks. A soldier indeed, of the hardest sort. Someone devoted to his cause more than to human decency...A chilling idealist. ]

And I doubt you really mean it. Righteous people are always so proud of being righteous.

[doggo]

I wouldn't get off on it, if that's what you mean.

[Proud. That's not quite a trait he'd use to describe himself, if asked. Loyal, yeah. Right, and good, and faithful? Yeah. Does he have pride? Sure. But not the sort that Vorrutyer means, the sort where you go about boasting. His is more demonstrative.]

I'd be proud to defend the rest of my friends against scum like that. No matter who they were.

[vorrutyer]

And if those remaining friends then turn out to be unworthy...Off with their heads in turn?

[doggo]

My remaining friends are worthy.

[vorrutyer]

And didn't you think that about your original friends?