Komarr

The Professora rubbed one finger thoughtfully over her chin. "And are you traveling back to Barrayar on a commercial liner, Lord Vorkosigan?" she asked him affably. The mutually alarmed parties blinked at her in suffused gratitude.
"No," said Vorkosigan. "Fast courier. In fact, it's waiting for me right now." He cleared his throat, jumped to his feet, and made a show of checking his chrono. "Yes, right now. Professora, Madame Vorsoisson, I trust I shall see you both back in Vorbarr Sultana?"
"Yes, certainly," said Ekaterin, barely avoiding breathlessness.
"I will look forward to it with great fascination," said the Professora piously.
His smile went crooked in trenchant appreciation of her tone; he backed out with a flourishing, self-conscious bow, a courtly effect slightly spoiled by his caroming off the door-jamb. His quick steps faded down the corridor.
"A nice young man," observed Aunt Vorthys, into a room seeming suddenly much emptier. "A pity he's so short."
"He's not so short," said Ekaterin defensively. "He's just . . . concentrated."
Her aunt's smile grew maddeningly bland. "I could see that, dear."
Ekaterin lifted her chin in what remained of her dignity. "I see you are feeling very much better. Shall we go ask about that hydroponics tour?"