Lovely. Here he'd thought that the bit about rations would be a lure to Vorkosigan - an expression of the reasons the man could trust his intentions - but no, nothing of the sort. He runs his hand through his hair - a quick, flustered motion that hints at his rather rattled state of mind - and takes a breath.

"No extra rations, then," he says. He straightens his shoulders, then, and tries to rid his face of its perpetual look of irony. Tries to look focused and intelligent, and possessed of that certain je ne sais quoi that makes the Old Vor think of you as something other than a piece of dog shit. Unfortunately, he is not possessed of it. So. Success? Who knows. He simply does his best to channel Olivia Vorkosigan's self-possessed rigidity - surely the man would respond to that.

"I don't know if you've heard about me - " Hah. As though the Old Wolf wouldn't know about something that goes on in his camp. He probably knows how frequently By takes a shit. "But my name is Byerly Vorrutyer. Not of the main family - we're an impoverished cadet branch - but I am Vor. I share blood with Le Sanguinaire - " God have mercy on him - "And with you, by distant relation." God have even more mercy. "It's my desire and my duty to serve to the fullest of my ability." He draws in a breath. "And my ability is in this. Counter-intelligence."