(backdated to pre-Pan plot -- also threadjack Miles in the comments!)

[vorbarra]

[There is a thin, angular man with dark neat hair and intensely focused hazel eyes on the screen. He clears his throat when the vid starts; he's had to swallow down his nerves and put on his calm political mask to speak. His accent is a gravelly, guttural sort of Russian, as if Russians went into space and were fast-forwarded a thousand years. Which they did.]

Hello. My name's Greg. I'm adding to your barrage of new arrivals. It's still very surreal to be here, if for no other reason than that I'm on pre-space travel Earth.

[He does look honestly bemused by that.]

I was wondering what the regulations are for obtaining jobs around here. They've assigned me one, but I was hoping for something... low key. Normal, menial work. [A quirk of his lips.] I have experience putting in lights, if that's relevant, and as a navigator.

I was also looking for confirmation that all of the, ah, abilities listed in our files are real. I'd prefer not to test something like this to find out.

Thank you.

Comments

[mathemagier]

Mr. Vorthys, then. Well I must say I'm relieved in that case. It was a pleasure speaking with you.

[He's very obviously distracted by something off-screen] Ah, I hope you manage to settle in well.

Newton, don't--!!

[click]

[vorbarra]

[Under his cover, he'd properly be Lord Greg, but he really doesn't expect anyone else to understand Barrayaran modes of address. It's a weird thing to send a short pang of homesickness through him, but it does.

Gregor had just opened his mouth to return his farewell, though he's not sure why he'd cut off the conversation-- and then his question is answered.

Right. Well. Time to go find Miles.]