video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[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]

Why, offering to help?

[motivation]

Fancy a spar?

[vorrutyer]

I assume that's code for a bedroom spar, and that you're not asking me to actually fight.

[motivation]

And here I was looking forward to putting you through your paces.

[ honestly? either option works for dutch. ]

[vorrutyer]

Esteemed Dutch, you've seen me naked. I'm positively willowy. Do you really think I'd be a match for someone like you?

[motivation]

No.

[ but then, dutch thinks hardly anyone is a match for her, and she's generally not very wrong about that. khlyen trained her well, no matter what else there is to say about him. ]

That's the fun part.

[vorrutyer]

Breaking me in two? Why, how borderline sadistic.

[ He debates internally a moment. But, well...What could be the harm? He has a story prepared as to why he knows to fight - all Barrayarans learn. So... ]

Count me in.

[motivation]

Holding out on me? Or are you just more masochistic than I thought?

[vorrutyer]

Which answer would give you more pleasure?

[motivation]

[ the first. ]

The truth.

[vorrutyer]

Really. I didn't know you were that sort of person - getting pleasure just from being told something true. Should I write you another limerick? Give you a real thrill?

[ Then - ]

A Vor does not grow up without learning at least the basics of combat.

[motivation]

That's promising.

[ he mentions the vor a lot. enough to make a girl curious.

dutch isn't that kind of person, not really. but there are discrepancies between what she says and what she means often enough. most of them are deliberate and not because she's fooling herself about who or what she is. ]

[vorrutyer]

So is that an invitation?

[motivation]

To let me punch you anyway? Hells yes.

[vorrutyer]

Well - then, against my better judgment...Where shall we meet?

[motivation]

There's a dojo in the city. I'll meet you there.

[vorrutyer]

I'll look forward to it.

[ And he shows up - dressed a little inappropriately, in shirtsleeves and trousers, but that's simply how By dresses, it seems. He has an ironic little smile, and bows to her with elaborate courtesy, saying - ]

Esteemed madam.

[motivation]

[ dutch, meanwhile, is wearing only a sports bra and tights. she's been working the punching bag hanging from the ceiling for a while now, but when byerly shows up and bows, she stops. ]

Aren't we past the formal shit by now?

[vorrutyer]

[ With a wry shrug - ]

Can a fish ever be past water?

[motivation]

[ will there ever come a time when dutch doesn't roll her eyes at him? probably not. ]

I think they call that evolution.

[ look, she's not a scientist, shut up. ]

[vorrutyer]

Something I haven't the skills for, alas. Does the formality offend you?

[motivation]

Offend? No.

[ dutch nods to the middle of the mats, inviting him to step up, circling him when he does. her lips quirk up. ] Annoy? You bet.

[vorrutyer]

[ And By kicks off his shoes, and arches his back to stretch a moment, then steps onto the mat. He doesn't brace himself, or get into a stance: he merely stands, muscles relaxed and loose, his only sign of readiness the way his eyes track her. ]

Really? Everyone I've met has always been ever so charmed by me and my ways of doing things. I'm agreeable, you see. Everyone says so.

[motivation]

[ if he's not going to make the first move, dutch will: a simple punch thrown his way, pulled enough that it's just about testing his reflexes for now. ]

Well, if everyone says so — [ she drawls, clearly not impressed. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ A quick step to the side means that the punch misses him by a rather wide berth. His reflexes are fast. Yet he doesn't retaliate beyond that. His fighting style, just like his speaking style, involves baiting people into making mistakes - and so he keeps waiting for her to make a stronger move. ]

We should put some stakes on this. If I can pin you, what'll you give me?