Miles isn't sure what she means, but he is inclined to trust her. A local festival perhaps? They ought to blend in if they can ... So when he meets her, he is in plain clothes, armed only with a stunner and his dagger, tucked into an unornamented sheath on his belt. Taura is bristling with enough weapons for the both of them - and also her claws, painted in bright, feminine colors. She bares her teeth in a smile as they meet.

He holds back a moment, watching that tender moment with utter fondness. Admiral Naismith can't be babymad, but the little Lord Vorkosigan looking through his eyes sure could be. Ah, how he longs for children. He briefly has a fantasy of marrying this lovely woman, of her son returning to Barrayar with him and to see that planet too, or him staying here and helping to raise him to lead her people in turn ... Pure fantasy and he knows it. Just. Keep your head in the right place, Miles, there's a hell of a lot to do today.

"We are," he says, giving her a nod once she's done. "On your command, we make for Chittor."