Closed RP and socking - Brienne and Miles - In which gifts are exchanged and a rendezvous is planned
((Backdated to a few days ago.))
"Hey!"
Miles came careening to a stop at one of the tables in the Great Hall and plopped down across from a frowning Brienne of Tarth.
The woman in question looked up from the soup she was eating and gave a brief nod. "Hello, Lord Vorkosigan," she said with deferential politeness, though her frown had softened and amusement lurked somewhere behind her eyes.
Miles gave an exagerated sigh. "Brienne, Brienne, Brienne, we've been over this before," he said, assuming an expression of martyred patience which lasted about five seconds before his customary grin twitched back into place. "It's just Miles. If I wanted the courtesies due me as a Vor, I'd be back home."
Brienne sighed, but allowed a quick smile. This was a conversation they'd had before. "My apologies, Ser... Miles," she said. "I forget myself, and the courtesies come too naturally at times."
"It's fine," Miles assured her, waving the apology away with a grand hand gesture.
He'd met Brienne some months ago, late at night, when they'd both been lost somewhere in the depths of the castle, having been thwarted by moving staircases. They'd ended up forming a tentative friendship while being pursued by a suit of armor which had been very irritated at having been disturbed. In truth, he liked Brienne quite a lot because she reminded him of Taura, and he might have at one time pursued her, except Brienne was clearly not interested in him that way. So he contented himself with sharing the occasional meal with her and trying to coax her out of her usual introspection by sheer force of personality.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Brienne ventured, "I got some things the other day you might get some use out of. I didn't think it prudent to bring them down to the dining hall, but I'll send an owl with them."
"A present? For me?" Miles did his best immitation of a swoon, somehow managing to avoid getting random food all over himself in the process. "I didn't know you cared!" Seeing the beginnings of a horrified look crossing Brienne's face he hastily sat back up and switched gears. "What is it? Where'd you get it?"
"Well..." Brienne hesitated, giving him the wary look he got all too often when people were wondering if he were about to go off on a tear again, "I think they're called Dungbombs. I got them from a young man in Gryffindor and I don't have any use for them. I know you've taken some interest in potions and I thought--"
"That's *brilliant*!" Miles cut her off. "I've heard about those things but haven't ever bought any of my own. Can I really have them? Please? You can just send a house elf down with them when you get a chance."
"I'd love to be rid of them." Brienne couldn't quite help a smile. Lord Vorkosigan was definitely somewhat disconcertingly enthusiastic when he got into something and she was hoping that the Mother in her mercy would decide that she did not have to be privy to whatever the finished project was going to be.
Seeking to break the meditative silence Miles had fallen into at her surprise gift, Brienne offered, "I'm going to Hogsmeade at the end of this week. With a friend. And I was wondering if you'd come." She wasn't going to acknowledge even to herself that she was nervous about going anywhere alone with Simon, because that was a silly bit of maidenly weakness on her part. But Miles was nothing if not interesting, and he was at least polite enough not to embarrass her, which was not something she could say for most of the people she'd considered friends in her time.
Miles looked intrigued, but chose not to pry. "Sure. Let me know when you're going and I'll be there." He really wanted to know what had put that nervous look on Brienne's face, and why she was blushing. If he didn't think she'd clam up, he would have started asking pointed questions. But he supposed he could be patient, and anyway, it could always be worse. At least he didn't think Brienne and whoever this friend was were the types who'd wander off to indulge in amorous pursuits and leave him to entertain himself. She'd be too conscious of his presence for that, and she was much too private a person. It was likely to be a routine trip, nothing worth being nervous about at all. Hogsmeade was far removed from, say, a state funeral on Cetaganda, so what could possibly go wrong?
"Hey!"
Miles came careening to a stop at one of the tables in the Great Hall and plopped down across from a frowning Brienne of Tarth.
The woman in question looked up from the soup she was eating and gave a brief nod. "Hello, Lord Vorkosigan," she said with deferential politeness, though her frown had softened and amusement lurked somewhere behind her eyes.
Miles gave an exagerated sigh. "Brienne, Brienne, Brienne, we've been over this before," he said, assuming an expression of martyred patience which lasted about five seconds before his customary grin twitched back into place. "It's just Miles. If I wanted the courtesies due me as a Vor, I'd be back home."
Brienne sighed, but allowed a quick smile. This was a conversation they'd had before. "My apologies, Ser... Miles," she said. "I forget myself, and the courtesies come too naturally at times."
"It's fine," Miles assured her, waving the apology away with a grand hand gesture.
He'd met Brienne some months ago, late at night, when they'd both been lost somewhere in the depths of the castle, having been thwarted by moving staircases. They'd ended up forming a tentative friendship while being pursued by a suit of armor which had been very irritated at having been disturbed. In truth, he liked Brienne quite a lot because she reminded him of Taura, and he might have at one time pursued her, except Brienne was clearly not interested in him that way. So he contented himself with sharing the occasional meal with her and trying to coax her out of her usual introspection by sheer force of personality.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Brienne ventured, "I got some things the other day you might get some use out of. I didn't think it prudent to bring them down to the dining hall, but I'll send an owl with them."
"A present? For me?" Miles did his best immitation of a swoon, somehow managing to avoid getting random food all over himself in the process. "I didn't know you cared!" Seeing the beginnings of a horrified look crossing Brienne's face he hastily sat back up and switched gears. "What is it? Where'd you get it?"
"Well..." Brienne hesitated, giving him the wary look he got all too often when people were wondering if he were about to go off on a tear again, "I think they're called Dungbombs. I got them from a young man in Gryffindor and I don't have any use for them. I know you've taken some interest in potions and I thought--"
"That's *brilliant*!" Miles cut her off. "I've heard about those things but haven't ever bought any of my own. Can I really have them? Please? You can just send a house elf down with them when you get a chance."
"I'd love to be rid of them." Brienne couldn't quite help a smile. Lord Vorkosigan was definitely somewhat disconcertingly enthusiastic when he got into something and she was hoping that the Mother in her mercy would decide that she did not have to be privy to whatever the finished project was going to be.
Seeking to break the meditative silence Miles had fallen into at her surprise gift, Brienne offered, "I'm going to Hogsmeade at the end of this week. With a friend. And I was wondering if you'd come." She wasn't going to acknowledge even to herself that she was nervous about going anywhere alone with Simon, because that was a silly bit of maidenly weakness on her part. But Miles was nothing if not interesting, and he was at least polite enough not to embarrass her, which was not something she could say for most of the people she'd considered friends in her time.
Miles looked intrigued, but chose not to pry. "Sure. Let me know when you're going and I'll be there." He really wanted to know what had put that nervous look on Brienne's face, and why she was blushing. If he didn't think she'd clam up, he would have started asking pointed questions. But he supposed he could be patient, and anyway, it could always be worse. At least he didn't think Brienne and whoever this friend was were the types who'd wander off to indulge in amorous pursuits and leave him to entertain himself. She'd be too conscious of his presence for that, and she was much too private a person. It was likely to be a routine trip, nothing worth being nervous about at all. Hogsmeade was far removed from, say, a state funeral on Cetaganda, so what could possibly go wrong?