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[ what even are those, why is this happening

He shows up on time. He looks awkward, of course - because when does he not look awkward, a mixture of uncomfortable and sullen and irritable and defiant at all times - slumping next to the door of the restaurant. He looks up every time someone comes near him, and then immediately looks away, trying to hide the fact that he was checking every single face, trying to hide the fact that he's anticipating the moment that Countess Vorkosigan shows up.

Belatedly - very belatedly - about ten seconds before she comes up to greet him - the thought occurs to him: What if she brings her husband? It's a terrifying enough thought that he looks up, preparing to run - and then there she is. ]

[ Thankfully for Mark she is alone, no Count with her today. But when she spots him and meets his eyes, her face lights up with a smile that reaches her eyes, the corners of them crinkling with it. She strides up to him with no hesitation in her steps at all. ]

Hey Peter, thank you for accepting lunch with me. I thought we should talk since we hadn't for a while.

Uh - yeah.

[ He doesn't smile in return. Of course not - genuine smiles aren't really in his repertoire. But he does lift his eyebrows at her, and study her face, and observe that apparent genuine pleasure she has at seeing him, and he does try to capture that image to remember later.

Which - stupid. Obviously. She's just smiling because he looks like her son. That's just how great her love for Miles is, that she'll smile even at a malevolent little creature that looks like him. Right? ]

Thanks. I'll pay, obviously.

[ He hopes she doesn't fight him on it. He thinks if he pays for this lunch, for both of them, it'll ease a little of his anxiety and misery. Somehow. ]

Oh, I was going to offer since I was invited you.

[ She raises her eyebrows, withholding insistence as she judges his reaction. ]

I have the money for it.

[ Recognize me, recognize my ability to earn, recognize that I'm intelligent and wealthy and powerful, recognize that I can take care of people just like Miles can but in a different way that's maybe even more important, dammit - ]

Let me take care of it.

All right, if you insist.

[ He relaxes. His expression grows even less sullen and gloomy. And he nods. ]

Okay. Let's, uh, go in, then?

Lead the way.

Sure.

[ He slumps inside. As he's making his way in, he asks: ]

So, uh...Did you need to talk about something in particular?

Need? No. Want to catch up with you? Of course.

With...

[ He looks over at her uncertainly. He doesn't know how she feels about him, and so he ventures, self-consciously: ]

With your accountant?

I'd heard Gregor asked you. Should I congratulate you?

Oh. Uh, probably not.

[ He ducks his head a little. ]

I'm just doing it as a form of payment.

[ She tilts her head down while looking at him as if she could glance under his ducked head to see his face. ]

Just that?

[ He doesn't look up - just shrugs. ]

Yeah. Just that. Gregor wanted work instead of money in return for the Dendarii's services.

Really? How did that work out?

[ Another shrug. ]

Well, I'm good at my job. So it's working out okay.

I mean how did it happen in the first place, you and Gregor talking?

Oh. Well, uh...We met. In person. Actually. Not long after I got here. [ A little sourly: ] He thought I was Miles, so he worried about me.

He'd worry even if you weren't Miles.

[ A snort. This is a pay-at-the-front sort of place, so he pulls out his wallet and hands over a stack of cash to the cashier. It's thrillingly subversive, knowing that he's getting access to as much food as he can possibly eat; he might not have the nerve for it, except that, well...Well. Cordelia had suggested it. And he guesses that being with her makes...Sometimes it makes things that ought to be frightening a little less so.

Anyway. ]

Seems unlikely.

[ She's nothing but calm and reassuring as they pick out a table and set their items down, waiting for the drink order before they get up to peruse the food stalls around the place. ]

Oh, he hides it pretty well, had to learn how to. But he does.

[ Another shrug. He says this pragmatically, without a hint of bitterness or recrimination: ]

He'd cut my throat if it meant safety for any of you.

[ She waves a hand and her voice is equally just as even. ]

Not very practical to do that here, I'm afraid. From what I've heard you'd just come back. Not that I'd think it would get that far in any case.

Yeah. Uh -

[ Awkwardly, he looks over to where the food is, and then looks back to Cordelia - and then hates himself a little, or a lot, when he realizes he's looking for permission from her. He can...get food whenever he wants to get food. He has that right. He's free.

Sort of.

When Lucifer turns me loose on all of you, you won't be looking at me with that smile, lady. You'll probably be holding me down while Gregor cuts.

He stands up and goes for a plate. ]

Yeah, well. Or metaphorical throat-cutting, I guess. My point is just that...There are people who matter, and people who don't.

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