Jedao's eyes flick back open as soon as the door shifts; he watches unblinkingly as Gregor steps in. Jedao recognizes his face from the data scrapes they yanked the language out of, but it's hard to really read people from propaganda broadcasts. The ignored chiding is a good sign; if he were a figurehead, it would only be that much harder to figure out the real vectors of this little empire. Kujen probably knew before he ever opened communications, but Jedao was never going to beat him at seducing the computers, so he only knows what Kujen allowed him to. The language, for convenience and to help Kujen practice, and a few basic facts.
Now he has presence to go with the face, and it's - interesting. Reserved, which is sensible enough, but the Barrayaran standard motion has enough in common with the Kel that Jedao doesn't feel totally adrift interpreting it. He doesn't think this is an agent with cosmetic surgical adjustment. He doesn't think he's lying about the fish, either.
It's more of a relief than Jedao wants it to be. It was a chain and a kindness, in the beginning of their drifting, you're the farmboy, Jedao, you take care of them - Kujen knows his weakness for color. But it kept him occupied, kept him from having no living creature in the universe but Kujen to love. He loved them and killed them, like he always does. He sustained them, and then they sustained him, soul and stomach. Every primal attachment all in one place. The need to feed them at the proper times is - embarrassingly well-conditioned, given that he did it to himself. But they were never supposed to be found.
(Still poor contingency planning. Like he didn't have enough handles to grab.)
He nods, in crisp acknowledgment and gratitude, then breathes out, trying not to let too much relief show.
"I'm sure I could provoke you into killing me if I were sufficiently inventive," he murmurs. Insignificant disobedience is the simplest test of power.
no subject
Now he has presence to go with the face, and it's - interesting. Reserved, which is sensible enough, but the Barrayaran standard motion has enough in common with the Kel that Jedao doesn't feel totally adrift interpreting it. He doesn't think this is an agent with cosmetic surgical adjustment. He doesn't think he's lying about the fish, either.
It's more of a relief than Jedao wants it to be. It was a chain and a kindness, in the beginning of their drifting, you're the farmboy, Jedao, you take care of them - Kujen knows his weakness for color. But it kept him occupied, kept him from having no living creature in the universe but Kujen to love. He loved them and killed them, like he always does. He sustained them, and then they sustained him, soul and stomach. Every primal attachment all in one place. The need to feed them at the proper times is - embarrassingly well-conditioned, given that he did it to himself. But they were never supposed to be found.
(Still poor contingency planning. Like he didn't have enough handles to grab.)
He nods, in crisp acknowledgment and gratitude, then breathes out, trying not to let too much relief show.
"I'm sure I could provoke you into killing me if I were sufficiently inventive," he murmurs. Insignificant disobedience is the simplest test of power.