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]

[ With a little edge of irritation: ]

I do not need to extort sex out of people.

[barreling]

Cool your jets, nobody said extort. [ she mimics his accent on the word. not very well. ] So you can untwist your knickers. [ it's basically just a british-y accent, but big and ridiculous, somewhere in the venn diagram between Julia Child, Dick van Dyke, and any character in a Guy Ritchie movie ]

[vorrutyer]

[ He purses his lips in irritation, because he does not sound like that. She needs about 40% more Boris Badinoff to even start sounding like him. ]

I'm simply saying that I can easily get sex without trading things for it.

i forgot he's a space russian

[barreling]

Really?

[ she'll brush up on her moose & sqvirrel later ]

All this 'my dear lady' shit works for you?

da, russkii v kosmose

[vorrutyer]

Coupled with how good-looking I am, yes.

[barreling]

[ there is a long pause ]

I mean your actual face is fine, sure.

[vorrutyer]

Far better than fine, my dear lady. You'll realize once you're sober.

[barreling]

[ she laughs, but not unkindly ]

Have you literally ever sobered up and been like 'wow that person is a lot hotter than I thought'?

[vorrutyer]

Well...Yes, certainly. Have you not?

[barreling]

No? And neither has anybody else. That's the opposite of how drunk goggles work, dude. It's either like 'oh god no what was I thinking' or 'oh thank god I can live with that'. There's no morning upgrade.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, on the contrary. I've often gone to bed with someone and woken up to find them wittier, sharper, and altogether more delightful than I could have dreamed.