What gracious charity, milord. What generosity, gifting me with your attentions. Oh, to be certain, there's something repugnant about a drunk; no question about that. But there was also something repugnant about the sort of man who would mock a drunk. Not quite as vile as attacking the witless, which is to By's mind a truly cowardly act, akin to shooting a civilian - but this is the equivalent of shooting a man disarmed. In his opinion, there is a code of conduct in the battle of wits. Rules of honor. And he finds his malice, at times, pricked by those who violate those rules of honor.

Well, unless they're really funny. But this boy isn't quite there.

"Arthur," he says, smoothing back his hair. "That doesn't sound like a Barrayaran name. Nor do you quite speak like a Barrayaran. Not a local, I think." He hiccups, just to make sure that comment didn't sound overly competent.