Miles suddenly wishes himself back on the Moira, back where he could talk to Bel about this, ask fervently about stupid frigging hypotheticals because this is just a hard pillow to swallow. Unwisely and knowingly, Miles drains the rest of his cup in one go and immediately lets out a wheezing cough, burying it in the crook of his arm.

He goes even paler at the sight of the extensive scarring under the other Miles's shirt, far beyond the cryo prep scars. He hadn't noticed that in his reflection on Caducus Primary. He feels cold despite the warmth of the fire.

"Shit," Miles mutters, rubbing his face. "What the hell did that to you?" And then he takes a closer look, and an old memory of Bothari springs unbidden to mind, that frozen moment that Elena Visconti had fired on him and left a gaping hole where his chest had been. Miles breathes in sharply. "Was that needler fire?"