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

[motivation]

[ there's grappling, a back and forth of it. he's good — maybe not as good as she is, but his longer reach makes up for the difference. dutch finds herself grinning fiercely all through it, enjoying it even when he manages to pin her on the mat eventually, both of them breathing hard from exertion. ]

Looks like you were holding out on me.

[ and for a moment, she's loose and pliant and soft underneath him, and then she twists into action, flipping their positions. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ He grunts, pinned beneath her. Definitely not as good, no - he's breathing harder than her, and he's under no illusion that she'll not beat him handily the next time. He depends upon the element of surprise as much as he does real skill. Still, it's worth it - he takes the opportunity to cop a feel of her ass, then says: ]

Looks like we both won.

[motivation]

That, too.

[ his hands on her arse are invitation enough for her to roll her hips against his, still grinning. ] Drinks first. [ because if she has to tell him a secret, she damn well wants to have a drink in hand while doing it. ]