The mutant had been promised an audience, alright, but not by Piotr's grace. This man's only saving grace is Olivia's -- and perhaps Sonia's, as well. Apparently she's fond of the little dwarf as well, and while that hardly sways Piotr's opinion, sometimes having to endure her tantrums and sulking is...exhausting.

And that's the only reason Miles is permitted to walk into the war tent, shoulders squared like he's a soldier, without being summarily turned out by one of the Vorkosigan armsmen at the entrance. He does look unusually disciplined -- but exactly whose army he would've been permitted to serve on Barrayar, Piotr's not entirely sure. Miles doesn't bother masking his accent, and Piotr doesn't bother masking the scrutinizing appraisal that, ultimately, falls rather...short. He's patient, but not altogether welcoming.

"So she did." Even at this age, Piotr's lean face manages to be forbiddingly impassive, his presence nearly a physical weight in the tent. "And so you have one."

Better air out whatever it is you came here for, and do it quickly. Piotr's a busy man.