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

[priorly]

Well, it's go for the jugular or go home with you guys, right? I mean, from what you've told me.

[vorrutyer]

Actually, not a bad summary of my home at all. You know, all our Vor ladies carry a dagger - the Vorfemme knife, it's called. Do you know why they carry that?

[priorly]

[The vorfemme knife sounds lik a cabaret act Prior might have heard of, but leaving that aside-]

When one is at the centre of one's social circle it is often beneficial to have a letter opener close at hand.

[No? No, fine. With a wave of his hand-]

To defend her dignity, I would guess.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, that's a good guess, but not a fun one. No. They say the reason is that if the women were allowed to carry swords, all the Vor men would be slaughtered where they stand.

[ A beat. ]

Point is - anyone can fight. And everyone should fight.

[priorly]

I think I'd like to meet some Vor women. [And it's a good story, but Prior sits back, assessing.] I do believe you've begun working on wearing me down on a new objective. But weapons? Really? A can of mace I can work with, but swinging a broadsword may be beyond my reach.

[vorrutyer]

Dear Prior, if you think that the only sort of murder I can teach you is a broadsword, you truly underestimate Barrayarans.

[priorly]

Murder?

[High enough that dogs can hear.]

[vorrutyer]

Ooh, does the idea of murder unnerve you?

[priorly]

[Across the city, terriers are pricking up their ears.]

Of course the idea of murder unnerves me! Murder's supposed to unnerve people, that's the reason any of us are still alive. Doesn't it unnerve you?

[And somehow his nails remain unbitten.]

[vorrutyer]

[ A shrug. (In truth: yes. It does.) ]

Not really. But - very well; we'll stop short of murder. Murder writ small. How about that?

[priorly]

Come and live in my house Prior. Murder doesn't unnerve me, Prior. How about just a little murder, Prior. Well I've tried a little murder, I put down poison when we had a rat problem. And I felt bad about it.

[vorrutyer]

What - do you think I'm a brute, now? Heavens, I'll be certain never to tell you stories about my family. Look, dear fellow, I'm not saying that I'm going to commit murder. Simply that Barrayarans are, generally speaking, trained to have a facility with it. It's a cultural quirk, like how Cetagandans paint their faces.

[priorly]

In the end I had to leave for the weekend and make Louis tell me he took them to a farm.

[vorrutyer]

A rat farm.

[priorly]

Farms have rats!

[Don't you push him on this.]

I don't think you're a brute. I think I'm not.

[vorrutyer]

Though you have punched people.

[priorly]

I've been jumped in alleys. What am I going to do, offer to cuddle?

[vorrutyer]

Most certainly not. I'm merely saying that to have a spine is not to be a brute.

[priorly]

[Look.

Look, this might be valid. But still. Prior's teeth work at his lip a moment as he starts, and stops, and starts to say something.]

I'm not saying I don't appreciate what you're doing. And maybe learning to defend myself at least isn't a bad idea. But I am who I am and if this is some kind of project then I worry you'll end up frustrated if I don't turn out how you want, or give up to decoupage somebody else.

[vorrutyer]

[ His expression softens just a tiny bit. Almost imperceptibly. ]

Our friendship isn't conditional. Let alone conditional hinging on something so inconsequential.

[priorly]

[Almost. Prior huffs out a breath, twining his fingers together in a pretence that he's once again examining the state of those nails.]

Little jewelled daggers do sound pretty.

[vorrutyer]

Set in gold, or in silver. - Which flatters you more? Gold or silver?

[priorly]

Gold, when I was less pale. Now, whatever's affordable, and fake silver doesn't leave those little green stains on the skin.

How long do you think you'll be, being melancholy at the piano?

[vorrutyer]

[ Just the slightest flicker of an eyelash. ]

Melancholy? I'm just bored.

[priorly]

You can be both. Boredom, I find, lets the darn thing in. But music evokes something, some emotion when you play, and-

Well. It was just a guess.