[ miles is quite used to being surrounded by men well over six feet in height; everyone in barrayar is tall, of course, except for him. damn his cousin ivan for getting the good looks and the height.

miles looks up at the newcomer, one eyebrow raising at the friendly advice, and he gives loki a sardonic grin. his accent is almost familiar, a distant cousin of a russian accent. well, more like a russian accent seven hundred years removed to the future. ]

Oh, I've already sampled the local cuisine. I found it to be rather lacking. [ it's disgusting. he'd take ration bars over this. he wrinkles his nose at the suggestion, though. ] I'll have to pass on the drink -- at least if I still want to be conscious by noon.

[ on top of everything else he's got an alcohol tolerance so low it's almost incapacitating. thanks for nothing, body. ]