Miles probably should tell his other self to lay off the mead a bit. Eh ... he's going to need it. Hell, older Miles is going to need it. He drains most of his own cup as well just to keep up.

"Killed me," he says bluntly. "Painfully. With needler fire, yes." He too is picturing Bothari dead on the floor thirteen years ago. "Karmic justice, probably." Those last few words come out as a murmur. Now, the next step is surely obvious enough; his younger self has seen and recognized the cryorevival scars. But he stops anyway, giving it a moment to sink in.