Miles winces at that. It hits just a little too close to home -- or at least where his mind has been lately. "Thanks," he says sardonically, but his expression softens a little at that, and he quirks a wry grin at Gregor, shaking his head. "You say that now," he says, "but I don't know that you'd want to be a foster brother to Admiral Naismith. He's a clone, you know, and not exactly the reliable type. Tends to come and go. Not the sort of foster brother you'd need."