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[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly, a handsome fellow with a hard-to-place accent that just sounds a bit different, is lounging on a couch. The angle isn't entirely flattering, since he's filming himself while laying supine, and so there's a view sort of halfway up his nostrils that is a little bit too much information. A bottle of brandy dangles from one hand, and his voice is slurring just a bit. This fellow seems quite drunk. ]

Bonsoir, you grunting peasants and cultureless rubes, and happy Winterfair to all. For those of you who are cultureless monsters, Winterfair is a time when gifts are exchanged and joy is had. My gift to you is that I won't call any of you peasants again for the duration of this broadcast. Winterfair was also the last Emperor's birthday, or thereabouts, which meant everyone had to give him their taxes for the year, but mine's not till later, so you don't need to pay me till then. I'll let you know when taxes are due. Start saving up now.

So what should you all give me instead? I suppose to begin with you could entertain me. What do you say, my cream puffs - a little game of two truths and a lie? You know the rules, since the rules are literally the name of the game. Go on, play with me, do. I'll start. I'm currently rightful Emperor of Barrayar, my great grandfather Pierre once showed up to a Winterfair ball soaked in blood to send a message, I'm terrible in bed.

Anyone who opts out of the game, I'm going to assume they're simply too in love with me to speak with me, so don't play at your own risk.

[ He winks, and then lifts the brandy to his mouth - and it apparently goes down at a bad angle, because he sits up, coughing and spluttering and getting alcohol down his front before he shuts off the feed. ]

Comments

[vorrutyer]

[ He purses his lips pruriently in that comment about tying knots. But, in return for the latter part - ]

I suppose I'll try. [ A beat. ] You might be better off abandoning me after all, you know. I won't be good for you. Like you said - a fellow really shouldn't fall in love with me. [ But at least it isn't really a lashing out. It's a genuine, rather rueful warning. ]

[flashystyle]

Yes, well, it’s like you said - I’m not a man who only does what’s easy. As difficult as you are, I still like you.

[He musters up a faint smile, allowing himself a moment to linger before he withdraws his hands.] My clothes are going to smell like your cheap liquor for ages... How awful.

[vorrutyer]

[ He gives a little shrug. ]

Strip. I can wash them.

[flashystyle]

Oh? You’re lucky I didn’t dress up for the occasion. Thank you.

[He moves back, pulling his shirt overhead and promptly dropping it on By’s lap. There’s still a mess to clean, and with all their talk he didn’t even find a towel.] I’ll leave them by the machine if you want to go lie down.

[vorrutyer]

No.

[ He shakes his head and takes the shirt up. With a slightly exaggerated drawl: ]

Dear fellow, I would never wash your clothes in the machine. By hand. Absolutely by hand.

[flashystyle]

What’s that? I’ve fallen already.

[That gets a more genuine grin out of him. He pulls a hand towel from somewhere in the kitchen, moving to sweep the glass into a pile.]

I didn’t think you’d even know how, being from the future and all.

[vorrutyer]

From Barrayar, though. We're a planet of knuckle-dragging barbarians, remember? A hundred years ago, we were still riding horses, and we'd only just rediscovered gunpowder.

[ He holds out the shirt, inspecting it. ]

This is a service I often provide. People will let you steal quite a lot of their wine if you make yourself useful.

[flashystyle]

Don’t think I’m letting you take my wine anywhere. I’d rather pay you so you can start spending on better choices of liquor.

[He hums, lifting his other hand. His palm glows blue, and the shards from the floor fly up to join the rest.]

Could you teach me, sometime?

[vorrutyer]

[ With a short, incredulous laugh - ]

Washing clothes? You're better than washing clothes, Dorian.

[flashystyle]

No one is better than washing clothes, Byerly! [He looks up, brows raised in amusement.] You’re just saying that so I’ll still need your help.

[vorrutyer]

[ That gets a little flash out of him, though, a show of emotion that isn't entirely positive. He shrugs, though. ]

Well, of course, dear fellow. A man needs to be needed.

[flashystyle]

[His grin falters for a moment, but-]

Then I’ll never learn, I suppose. Then you’ll be astonished at how many times a man could spill wine in one day. Surely Dorian can’t be coming over again, I just cleaned his shirt, and vest, and pants... I could manage some, but I can never get red out.

[vorrutyer]

Salt.

[ He mimes a sprinkling motion. ]

And don't ever let it dry. [ There. It's like teaching him. Some small defense against feeling needy. ]

[flashystyle]

I’ll still come to you for the big messes, I think. I’m not the expert.

[He gathers it all in the towel, then moves to go dump the glass in the trash. After, he’s stripping out of his boots to start shimmying out of his pants then and there.]

These, too... What else did you do for favors?

[vorrutyer]

Ah. What didn't I do?

[ He shrugs as he holds out his hands for the pants. ]

Mostly served as a middleman - drugs, drink. Women. Or men, sometimes. Rarely. Did errands. Delivered messages. Negotiated with customs officials. Mended clothes. Talked people out of retribution. Flattered. Screwed. Distracted the right people at the right time, put charming words in the right ear. Took a punch. Slept in jail. I was the fellow who made it so all the other fellows' time was nice and easy and pleasant and smooth.

[flashystyle]

[He hands them over and crosses his arms, leaning over the back of his chair as he listens. So many questions, and he doesn't know where to start.]

...Slept in jail?

[vorrutyer]

[ A one-shouldered shrug. ]

Lieutenant Alexis Vortugalov, in a drunken fit, stuffed his pockets with about fifteen thousand marks' worth of merchandise at a jewelry store. They raised the alarm, we were cornered, nowhere to go - so I had him pass the jewels off to me. I played the drunken belligerent, he played the level-headed friend who had tried to talk me out of this stupidity, I got the knock on my record and no scandal interfered with his promotion to Captain.

[flashystyle]

[He can't help but laugh at that, shaking his head as he does.]

Oh, he probably owed you a great deal for that. I can imagine jewels falling off you, too - how stunning. What about negotiating with customs officials?

[vorrutyer]

That one's not exciting.

[ He shrugs casually. ]

When some Vorling takes a yacht to Beta or Escobar or Komarr, I tag along, and I'm the one who dutifully trots out to fill out all the forms and present all the passports and do all the tedious things while the well-heeled stay on their couches necking with the comely lasses I found for their enjoyment.

[flashystyle]

You're right, that isn't exciting at all. Did you at least get to partake in the necking?

[vorrutyer]

[ A wry little smile. ]

A bit. Being a lackey had some perks.

[flashystyle]

And they can't have complained. How lucky for them to have such an accommodating entourage.

[He straightens up with a wink, walking around By towards the hall. From over his shoulder:] I'm going to wash up, then you're telling me about retribution. And other exciting things. In bed.

[vorrutyer]

[ By calls back - ]

You're really overestimating the excitement of this position. Being a crony of rich bastards really doesn't have that many thrilling adventures.

[flashystyle]

[Over the sound of running water:]

They're thrilling to me! I'm usually the rich bastard!

[vorrutyer]

[ As he passes by the bathroom, he calls in: ]

Ah, so it's a masochistic desire to know what your flatterers truly think of you.