fake married. dear god.

[middling]

( This isn't funny. He knows the Lady thinks it is, because she'd laughed a tinkling laugh after telling Ivan about the new task she had for him. He doesn't know if By thinks it's funny because he hasn't looked at the other man long enough to figure it out, and partly because the last thing he needs is hearing whatever barbed comment Byerly can throw at him. I need you to do something with the Dilettante's new Chamipion, Lord Vorpatril. You don't mind, do you? And no, of course he hadn't, because there was a chance that said Champion was female and who is Ivan to turn down that chance?

Now he wishes he had, because it turns out they're supposed to be spying on someone. Which is Byerly's field of expertise, so at least his presence makes sense. But not Ivan's, no. And not only are they spying -- has he mentioned how much he dislikes that? Because he does. But not only are they spying, they're having to pretend they're married or partnered or whatever they call it here. He'd made an attempt to turn and walk the other way, and when that had been brought up short by a polite cough from the Lady, had flat out said no.

It hadn't worked. He hadn't even known the other man was here! But of course he would be, smirk in place. Ivan can already feel the headache building and can't believe his rotten luck. Out of all the people in the Nexus to show up, it's Byerly Vorrutyer. And, oh, did he mention that she'd introduced them with and don't you know each other, Ivan?

Good God. )

Right. ( Ivan says, faced with transportation, luggage, and Byerly Vorrutyer. ) Let's get this over with.