Ah, he recognizes that mood. A particularly Vorkosigan shade of black; he can't help but feel a pang of homesickness. He ducks his head to hide it, though there's not much to show on his face anyway. Fondness, loneliness. And a pause before he speaks again.

"Work is soothing, then," he says, neither denying Piotr his anger nor reacting to it. "Helps me think." Especially when he can't pace the way he wants to. At least in here the soldiers leave him alone. Or, at worst, make a snide comment about the mutie doing dirty jobs before leaving.