Miles's teeth clench as the other Miles elects not to let go of his arm, partly to brace himself, partly in response to that uncomfortably familiar grin. He bares his teeth almost automatically, though he doesn't quite match the razor smile. No -- not Mark. Mark had been an uncomfortable mirror, but of the funhouse sort. This man is just a mirror, all too sharp, clear as glass. Miles thinks back to the reflection he'd seen in the nighttime glass on Caducus Primary -- his future self, right? That's what Ivan had seen. Him and his frigging captain's tabs. God.

Miles reels his mind in rapidly, frantically, trying to keep up with his pounding heart already trying to escape from his chest. He's looking at his own face, and he thought meeting Mark was disconcerting, but this -- this...almost makes sense. It might. It would have, on the Moira, but the situation here seems so creepily similar. There were people from the same world on the Moira, but some of them had been from...different timelines. Different times. There'd been more than one Loki at one point, God help them all, so this -- this isn't as impossible as he'd like to think. A cracked wheeze that might've been the beginnings of a hysterical laugh escapes him.

"Miles Naismith Vorkosigan," he breathes, unable to tear his eyes away from his -- his own face. God, this is creepy. His expression finally cracks into a grin, with emphases on cracked. If he looks any saner than he feels right now, it's a miracle. "And so you are you."