The exact same comment rises to Miles' lips as well - caught only by the fact that it's tumbling out of this mirror's mouth first. Mark? he thinks anyway, sharp gray eyes taking in the spindly little man in front of him. No, definitely not. His Mark has gained a significant amount of weight, first and foremost, and he just can't picture his solid little brother face down in the snow like this. Calling other people Mark like he's surprised to see them.

No, something much weirder is going on here. Miles thought the time travel and the worst era of Barrayaran history was bad enough. Clearly, the Nexus is out to prove him wrong.

"No, I don't think so," is his response, paired with a grin as sharp and dangerous as a scimitar. If it's not Mark, then he's clearly looking at some kind of Cetagandan nonsense. (A third clone in truth? Oh god, spare the world from yet another poor bastard running around with his and Mark's genes.) "Who the hell are you?" He'd been grabbing the other man to help him up, but now he's decided to keep a firm grip on him instead. Just in case.