|
|
Clara comes out of her office, waving a hand at Kramer. "Hey, do you have the...?
"Bridellian monitor stats from the manufacture?" Kramer finishes for her with a grin, handing up a folder. "Right here, doc. You ate today. Good for you." This earns him a wry face from Clara and a, "Hey, I remember to eat," as she finds an empty desk.
Riley arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara is bent over a folder of paperwork, likely budget paperwork, and dressed in casual civvies, so absorbed in the work so as not to hear the door.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "*yawn* Sent my resignation off.
G'night, Clara." in Kyara's voice.
Clara absently pulls her wrist in without looking up and mutters into it, then returns to scribbling.
You say "Good for you, Kyara. Sleep well." into the communit.
Riley ambles in, shoelaces still untied from where he's changed shoes. See, he's polite. He's not going to wear Underground be-icked footgear into the nice clean Medbay. He slides into a chair in front of Clara's desk, "Careful, if you get any closer to it, it might bite your nose."
Clara starts up from the work at the voice, then exhales a breath as she pushes her hair back. "Oh, saints, Chief. I think you just scared a decade out of me." She leans back in her chair, laughing. "Come to try and wheedle me into letting you off leave?"
Riley offers an apologetic grin, "Didn't mean to startle you. I tried to make some noise, but uh, you were pretty buried there." He shakes his head, "Nah, I had it illustrated to me pretty clearly I'm not firing on all cylinders. Although I may be about ready to tackle you for my radio for tonight. I'm edgier than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs without the thing."
Clara quirks a brow in amusement, folding her arms to lean on the desk. "You were barely firing on one by the time I skedaddled last night. It may take extra bribes for me to give you the radio back though."
Riley looks excessively sheepish as the previous night is mentioned, "Uh, yeah. I was kinda wiped." He pauses, considering this. "Bribes, hrmmm... What kinda bribe for getting it back with just one channel, eh? Just so Anya can yammer at me if Hell freezes over?"
"Hell's not going to freeze over," Clara replies with derisive humor, then grins lightly. "No bribes required, though. I'll hand it over at the right time," she offers. "Enjoying your day off?"
"You never know. The weather folks are predicting a cold snap." Riley offers a grin, shifting back in the chair. "Uh, well I guess. I'm afraid I'm not real talented at time off. Hence why I'm in here driving you nuts. Well, that'n I'm worried about ya'."
Clara exhales heavily and slowly closes her folder, not looking up and folding her hands. "Chief, I'm fine, really. Look, I promised not to request the transfer, and I didn't. Isn't that enough?"
Composing himself for patience, Riley shakes his head slightly. "Clara, if you don't want to be here, I won't make you stay. I don't want you to be miserable. And I don't want you to go working yourself into puree of Aleron. I'm not gonna ask you to tell me what's up. I've figured out you're not gonna tell me. But in Peesh's name, can't you tell -somebody-? You look like you're like to explode."
Clara flickers a glance up at Kramer, who is very studiously involved in working on his own paperwork. "I don't exactly want to leave," she allows quietly. "But the point is moot," she says, voice lifting a bit as she inhales deeply. "I'm fine. People bring their problems to me, not vice versa."
Riley shakes his head, affixing you with a rather wry expression. "Clara If I knew your middle name I'd abuse it Aleron, now you and I both know better than that. We're both adults, let there be no attempts at fooling either of us. Cause I don't believe that line, and if you do ya' need to go back to medical school for a shot, eh? -Everybody-'s gotta have somebody to talk to, even if it's only the dog. Being in the business of fixing problems doesn't exempt you from having them yourself. And in having them, you're as entitled to the methods of dealing with them as anybody else."
"Elise," Clara offers vaguely, folding her arms and settling back into her chair with a fair amount of stubborn determination. "And who would you suggest I talk to, hmm? You? Niko? Anya? Give me a few clues here, Riley. I'm not back on the lines anymore where all I have to do is patch up innards. So I'm still getting used to civilization? Big deal. I'll cope. I realized where I was screwing up, and I'm fixing it."
Riley shifts forward, leaning his elbows on the desk. "Me, Nick, Anya, Kya, Kramer, Rhys, comm Honalee...I could go on Clara. Anybody on that list'd love to listen. Are you really fixing it? Or are you just ignoring it?"
Clara glares back for a long moment, then flashes a glance up at Kramer, who nods in return and slips from the room, leaving both departmental heads alone. She leans forward as well, brows lowering. "What does it matter? Seriously? There are some things that invade the conscious that simply require a firm hold of mental processes over emotional, and a dose of humor can't hurt." She finally sighs and rubs at her forehead with the palm of one hand. "Why are you doing this, Riley?"
Riley reaches to toy with a pencil idly, looking very much his age. "It matters to me, Clara. I don't want you to be unhappy. And I think talking things out with somebody'd help." He pauses a moment at that last question, regarding you with green-flecked eyes and a solemn expression. "You really have to ask." It's not a question, it's a statement. The eyes flicker back down to the desk. "Because you're a friend, Clara. It kills me to watch you all torn up over something that I can't help with."
Clara returns the gaze for a long moment without a change of expression, then swallows faintly. "You look exhausted," she says quietly. "Please...the last thing I want you to do is worry. No, you can't help, and there's more than a few good reasons for it," she adds, closing her eyes against a moment of sadness. "Please? Don't worry about me?"
That garners a short humorless bark of laughter as Riley shakes his head. "Clara, if you can show me how to switch worrying on and off, you'll've invented a new trick that'll have you on talk shows for the rest of your natural life. I am afraid that whoever designed worrying did not intend for it to be a controllable response, eh?" He leans back in the chair again, attempting to rub some focus back in his eyes. "I'll accept I can't help. I'll accept you have to work this through. But I refuse to accept that there's nobody who can help you. Sit in my seat for a moment, if you knew somebody acting like you are now, what would you tell them to do?"
Clara's jaw clenches at the final suggestion, and she abruptly stands up and turns her back to fold her arms and lift her eyes to the wall display there. "I'd issue medical orders to see a counselor," she grates out. "Except that I'm the only one on staff." She's quiet for a long moment. "Look, if I modify my behavior to exclude the aberrations, will that be good enough? I know I made all sorts of mistakes the other night because of this...and I'm sorry. I'm trying?"
"No," Riley's reply is almost plaintive. "No, Clara, that's -not- enough. In fact that's -worse-. Trying to pretend there's nothing wrong when there -is-... C'mon, you're a brilliant intelligent woman. Please, you know you need to do something." He doesn't manage to keep the desperation from his tone. "Comm Honalee, radio up Nick, -somebody-... -something-. It doesn't have to be a professional, it doesn't have to be anybody who can give you -advice-. It just helps to get it all in the open and face it. I had a long and involved discussion with the -dog- last week. I probably looked certifiable, but it -helped-."
Clara spins back with a flare of anger to plant her hands on the desk. "I -can't- talk to Niko about this because it's not fair to him, and if I tell Honalee, she'd likely come back just to kick me in the tail. Okay? Got it? If you want, I'll talk to the blasted dog, fine." She looks off to one side grimly, pursing her lips. "You're a lot more difficult than Colonel Jensen, you know that?" she asks, tone far more wistfully fond now.
Okay, it's pretty pathetic that a man Riley's size, age, and rank can cower, but Riley all but melts into the chair. "I'm sorry."
Clara shakes her head briefly, still not sitting, but not looking up either. "Don't be," she replies softly. "It's not your fault. You're a good commander, and better yet a good person. Makes it hard to remember you're the commander sometimes."
"I never wanted to -be- a commander. I told them that. They put me on a cruiser anyhow." Riley's tone is a bit flat, he reaches for that pencil again. "They said people would follow me, so I had to command them. I told them what they could do with that suggestion. They pointed out that my suggestion wasn't anatomically possible. I suggested an alternate... You get the idea. I gave in because I figured if I didn't do it, someone else would, and I didn't necessarily trust anybody awful enough they'd pick me before them, eh? I never have commanded. My people command themselves, I just let them know what's expected. People will act like adults if you expect them to. If you expect them to act like children, they'll oblige. I refuse to live my life by a set of arbitrary rules made by men who treat other men like children. I prefer to hold up the spirit of my oaths rather than besmirch them by using traditions that tired old admirals invented because they were too lazy to care about the people they work with."
"Which is what I told Kyara," Clara says after a moment of silence. "That you commanded through positive reinforcement and caring about your staff." She finally looks back up in all seriousness. "And I've always had commanders that were elderly men and treated me like some wonderfully bright child." She snorts softly, a mirthless laugh. "Maybe I am. Was. Whatever. Doesn't matter at this point. The point is...according the AF, I still answer to you," she explains, almost as if imploring for it to be left there.
Riley's chocolate-free-brows-although-they're-still-that-color arch slightly, his confusion starting to compound itself on his face. "Um, sort of, yeah. As much as Honalee ever did."
Clara regards the confusion for a moment, and visibly starts to reel in her reactions again, even offering a small smile. "Sure, Chief. Sounds good to me. Except that Honalee is old enough to be your mother, a civilian, and you've worked with her for years." She sighs faintly and finally drops back into her seat. "I miss her."
"Me too." Riley admits readily, "Not that you don't do a wonderful job. In fact, in a lot of ways, you do a much better job than she did. But she was a good friend, and I miss her. I think I even miss being called 'Greg'." He toys with the pencil, sending it spinning on the desk. "Still though, all the departments are semi-autonomous. You don't have to worry I'm gonna come in here and throw my weight around, eh? I'm not gonna come layering on the orders." He's confused, yes. He pauses a beat, "Wonder if I could keep the job but resign the commission, eh?" Frowning he sighs, "Nah, wouldn't work. Then I couldn't sponsor Kya. Damn, nothing's easy."
Clara manages a rueful chuckle at this, eyeing the pencil and folding her arms to rest them on the desk. "She told me I needed to call you Greggykins when you were being silly. Somehow I just don't see it happening, since you'd likely think of something equally vile for my middle name." She glances up with a hint of bemusement. "I didn't think you would go trying to give orders." She shakes her head in slow agreement. "Life isn't easy. Linnae is even less so."
"If you call me Greggykins," Riley's tone is low and serious, "I will tickle you within an inch of your life. And -then- I will tell on you to Anya. And -then- I will -pout-."
Clara glances up with and equally serious expression. "God forbid you should pout," she intones. "Or tell Anya. And you'd have to catch me first."
And then the fluffy pillows! Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!
"I have skates." Riley is still ever so deadly serious. "With wheels."
"Doesn't help a door slammed if I can get to my office in time," Clara counters, as intense as if negotiating real strategy.
Riley's brows furrow a notch, presumably as he imagines careening into an office door. "Ow." Yep, see, that was what he was imagining. "I know which tunnel leads into your office though."
Clara suddenly grimaces, brow ruffling. "Eeeew...with all that slime? Riley, if you so much as -touch- me begooked like that, I'll, I'll...I'll call you Greggykins, I swear."
Riley just sighs with mock long sufferance. "Which would start the whole ritual all over again I'm afraid. I think, and this is just my opinion mind, if you feel the need to address me by my middle name it'd be best if you stuck to Greg or Gregor. From you I'd put up with it."
Clara quirks a brow with a cross of surprise and perhaps a bit of consternation. "From me? Okay...I'm not sure why I deserve this dubious honor, but I really do think it's best if I stick to Chief or Riley, depending on the circumstances. Now," she starts, pulling up a half smile. "I'm behaving, and not being a grouch. Am I forgiven?"
Riley shakes his head with a rueful smile, "Clara, I never held anything against you to begin with, eh? I just want you to realize you don't have to do anything alone. If you set yourself off you invite loneliness." He clambers to his feet grinning Riley....err wryly... Okay, I get to shoot Kris now. "And lonely's a whole lot of no fun, and a bad deal to be writing yourself for no good reason, eh?"
Clara rises as well, an almost sad smile in place. "There are some professions...soldier and doctor, to be precise, where many things have to be dealt with without assistance. I've known that since I commissioned. Headed back to your day off?"
That first garners an almost desperate sigh of exasperation from Riley, "In Peesh's name, how can I get through to you Clara? What is it I have to say? Why have you got walls up so high nobody can get in? What did any of us do? How can we make it right?" He shakes his head, "I don't know. I though I was going to... I don't know what I thought, but ... aww hell. Clara, how can I keep you from making the same Peeshforsaken stupid mistakes -I- made?"
Clara stiffens slightly, then exhales a pure sigh of frustration and comes halfway around the desk to lean against its side, arms folded. "No one here did anything, really. Everyone's been amazingly nice...almost too nice." She pauses, then peers up curiously. "But I'm trying not to make your mistakes. I can't get a halfblack," she notes, puzzled.
Riley shakes his head, frustrated near to the point of anger. "Not -those- mistakes, Clara. I'm assuming anybody with a lick of sense can avoid racking up seventeen halfblacks. Aww hells, there's no explaining it. If you're so bound and determined to cut yourself off from everybody and shoot your life to hell and back... Don't you -get- it? When you cut yourself off from everybody you burn bridges. And each burned bridge is a further disconnection from other -people-. Other people who -care-. And without other people, what in the name of all that's holy is life worth? You have a host of people who want to help, but you're persisting in shoving them all away. Heck, comm up a relative, -something-..."
Clara, if anything, shrinks back at the tirade, desperately fighting to hold on to some semblance of professional calm and not doing a very good job. "I...I'm sorry?" she manages to get out in a small voice. "I'll try harder," she adds, pushing to her feet and trying to straighten her lab coat that she isn't wearing and staring at the floor.
Riley's expression falls a notch, "You're entirely incapable of seeing me as anything but your boss, aren't'cha?" His question is quiet. "I'm sorry then. I'm entirely out of line. An Admiral does not suggest to a Major what she should do with her personal life as long as her performance is not affected. I apologize for my familiarity. Have a pleasant day."
Riley heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara's hands clench into fists slowly before she shoves them in her pocket. "That's not it at all," she mutters, glancing up to stare at the closing door with an increasing amount of irritation ranging into flat-out insulted anger before she takes off after. "Damn man..."
You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
You head towards the Security Central.
Clara almost barges into Security, obviously smoldering as she heads for Anya's desk. "Please tell me he's in there, Anya?" she says with a quiet, tight smile. "I'd really like to speak with him."
Anya offers Clara a long look indeed, but nods, "Office. Read him the riot act. What'd he do?"
Clara shakes her head quickly, almost apologetic. "I will...can we talk about it later, though?"
Anya nods simply, "Sure."
You walk towards the Chief Addison's Office.
Clara almost straight-arms her way into the room, obviously fuming by now. "How -dare- you!" she snaps out. "An Admiral doesn't presume to speak so to a Major? Aren't -you- the one who insisted on trying to be friends? Hell, if that's the way it's going to be, maybe I -ought- to request a transfer. That was flat out cruel, Riley, and it hurt. If that was your intention, it bloody well worked!"
Riley is mostly sprawled on the couch, wrapped around last night's mistreated pillow. His tone of voice is rather flat and empty, "Clara, I'm sorry. I was unfair by trying to force you into a situation you obviously are uncomfortable with. I want a friend, not a subordinate. It was cruel of me to expect you to be one without realizing you can't seem to see past the officialese."
Clara inhales a near gasp at the comment, jaw almost dropping before she clenches her jaw again and lowers her voice to not carry. "That's what I wanted too, and I'm bloody well capable of seeing past what's official. And -that's- the problem. Don't you get it?" She chops off her words before elaborating. "Have you never read the rules of fraternization to the letter? It's damn vague, and I just don't want to be zinged by it," she adds almost pleadingly.
Riley shoves himself half upright. "Clara, Denner's -enlisted-...He knocked me cold once cause I made one too many jokes he didn't like. You know what I did? I apologized. Errm, and then pushed him out of the boat. I guess I should have left out that last bit. You're in the Complex, we make our own danged rules here mostly. Yes, I'm your boss, but as -Chief Addison-, not as an Admiral. Nobody's going to so much as blink if you give me what for. If I don't think I deserve it I may give what for back, but cause I'm a person, not cause I bloody -rank- you..."
Clara stares back for a long moment before spinning around and taking a few steps away. "Oh, fine. Which meshes wonderfully with everything you said the other night, except that it tore me up, just about." She drops her voice again, more hurt than angry. "I should have let Kyara stay, and I'm sorry about that. I'm...sorry for a lot right now. Particularly for ruining your day off."
Riley sinks back down against the arm of the couch, "The other night?" He shakes his head, "Clara, you've not ruined a thing. If you walked out of my office right now and I never saw you again my life would still be far richer for having known you..."
"So would mine," Clara agrees faintly. "I think...I have a lot to learn," she says almost haltingly, then turns back at the shift in the voice from behind and tilts her head with a vague smile. "Nap time again? I can go..."
Riley shakes his head slightly, "No, please don't go, wait a second, I'll get in the upright and tray tables locked position again." It takes effort but he does just that, edging over enough that the couch's corner serves as a prop. "Clara, I'm sorry. I just don't want you to end up in my shoes. I've spent the past...too many years only knowing one person who didn't really think of me as a boss or a flunky. She left. I just... I don't want you to tie yourself off from everybody. Me, I'm your CO, I can understand you burning that bridge I guess. Just please, remember there are other folks. People who want to care about you if you'll let them."
Clara returns to that same chair again, kicking it in circle to face you before sinking into it and leaning her elbows on her knees. "I'm not tying myself off," she explains slowly. "Honestly? You were the only person I was doing that to," she adds almost tiredly, staring down at the floor. "I guess...I equate caring with trouble? No, I'm a better therapist than guessing. I know I do."
Riley regards the uncomfortable chair a moment, but he's not about to beg more trouble by commenting on it. "Caring is trouble." He agrees, "But it's also wonderful. It's support when stuff gets obscene, it's the backbone of what makes us people. Yes, it will cause you a passel of heartache to be cared for and to care for other people. Misery you could surely save yourself by never getting into it. But look at what all you -miss-. If you can't experience pain you can't experience joy. The universe has long since believed in the fact that their ain't no such thing as a free lunch. If you want to grab the brass ring you have to risk falling off the carousel. It's very lonely to have all your bridges burnt. To be in your cabin and know you have nobody to call when things go to hell at 3 AM."
Clara glances up to regard you solemnly during this before her lips quirk slightly in a sad smile. "Or 4 AM after making sure a goof of a friend is all right after he works himself to collapse. I don't want to burn -any- bridges, Riley. Not with others...not with you." She pauses for a moment, a hint of humor touching her expression. "Anyone ever tell you you lecture by cliche?"
"Hey, if it got enough lip service to be cliche in the first place, there's got to be a grain of truth, eh?" Riley offers a tired grin. "Metaphor is always suspect, but often provides enlightenment. A lot of times you can say more with a tired phrase than a new one. Cause the old ones have the bulk of cultural baggage behind them, you can say sometimes by implication the words you'd never have the courage to speak otherwise." He ducks his head, "I dunno, what would I know. I'm an engineer. Give me a problem I can fix hands on any day over one that might best be treated by me leaving my hands off."
Clara doesn't respond to this for a moment, then shakes her head with a small laugh. "That, as Niko would say, could be construed as a loaded statement. But you know what? You do okay with words, or at least you seem to. Words can be a fantastic defense mechanism if you need them to be."
Riley quirks a wry grin, "I once had a teacher who very eloquently pointed out there was no point to unloaded weapons or unloaded questions. What's the use on pulling the trigger on either?" He lifts his shoulders in what might have been a shrug if he'd had more effort to put into it. "Words're useful. They stopped letting me touch machines years back, so they're the only expression I've got, eh?"
Clara tilts her head at the quotation, one brow lifting. "I'd like to know how that statement was loaded then," she explains seriously. "You're right about words, but I got tired of riddles and dancing around a subject in school," she explains.
Ooh, that last gets a reaction. Riley stiffens rather noticeably. "I'm not fond of riddles either. Pet peeve. But I also learned a good lesson from my father, if you create more pain by saying something than by keeping your mouth shut, you keep your mouth shut. The problem becomes trying to figure out which end's less painful for the people I care about."
Clara lifts a hand to rub at her forehead, grimacing. "Did you and Niko go to the same school of hard knocks or something? He nearly said the same thing. Hells, I was better off on the frontlines I think sometimes. Okay, that's your prerogative. I apologize for bringing up something unpleasant. And this is most positively the most awful chair in creation."
Niko's name causes Riley to shrink down a bit more into the couch. "Nick's a good kid. I'm real fond of him." The comment about the chair gets a half grin, "There's plenty of couch. It's an Edreeni couch, see. Or the desk chair if you're a chair person. Those chairs are for diplomats, not friends."
Clara rises gratefully and heads to drop into the other corner of the couch. "You sir, are very kind. And Niko is a good ki-...person." She cuts off the first word with flash of something troubled. "A gentleman, most certainly." She glances back up with a grin. "Fitting, for someone blasted near as big as an Edreeni. You realize both of you make me feel short? It's a new sensation."
Riley looks excessively abashed at his own abuse of the k-word. "Most assuredly a good sort. Anya even approves of him. She'd probably suggest you set up some kind of net trap and pin him down. Actually, she'd probably use phrases that would make her husband throw peanuts at her. Anya's always good for a few of those." He offers an apologetic grin, "Sorry. From where I'm from I'm average to short of height. Kashid was a Human/Edreeni colony. Even has both Standard and Edrilac as official languages. But not with both printed on everything, but with everything printed in a mix of both. I'm told watching the news is like drinking a quart of Bushmills upside down if you're not used to it."
Clara snorts vaguely, shaking her head with a look of extreme wistfulness. "Thanks, but I'm not in the husband market. I don't even have the proper change," she mutters, then blinks up. "Wait a minute...do you have Edreeni genetics, then? Or are you just normally tall for a human? And a quart of Bushmills would...never mind. It'd be scary."
Riley lifts his shoulders in an amiable shrug, "You'd be better qualified to tell me that than I would. I never scanned that bit of my medical records. To the best of my knowledge I'm as human as any colonial not of straight Terran stock. Just tall for a human is all. But when half the kids at school are Edreeni, well, I didn't look tall, eh?"
Clara pulls her knees in and wraps her arms about them, regarding you speculatively. "I did do a scan on you, but I didn't check it beyond looking for problems. I dunno, I guess I forget that some folk may not be all Terran." She laughs softly. "Not that it's any great wingding to be native to Earth."
Riley folds his arms across his chest, relaxing into a comfortable position. "As a dyed in the wool colonial I'd have to agree." His tone is teasing, "Stuck up Terran stickybeaks." He offers a wink, "Sorry, occasionally the Evvy in me breaks loose. Especially after my stint in Admirality House. There's not a lot of non Terran rankers as the humans go, eh?"
Clara sits up enough to tug the cushion up from behind her and lean across in the attempt to swing it in a good whole-hearted thwap at you. "Stuck up? Watch it boyo! Some of us are just as cranky as you offworlders!" she exclaims, not even trying to stifle her laughter.
Riley brings up his arms to fend off the worst of the blow, snickering excessively. "Uncle, Uncle, I cower in face of your Terran superiority!"
Clara gives a final thwap, snickering merrily. "And don't you forget it!" she crows, dropping back into her corner to attempt to stop laughing. "Sorry...you have to know I don't really mean that. I prolly fit better on an O'Neill than in Kingston."
Riley pulls his arms down with mock caution. Green specked eyes glinting with merriment peer over them to make sure the coast is free of pillows before he drops them back down entire. Snickering quietly he nods, "As am I kidding. I honestly don't see any difference in this day and age of rapid transit. Though my sister's quite the temper on the subject. Unless she's outgrown it. She's uh, the only one my mother had much call in raising. That was after I left home."
Clara is still for a moment, then shoots out another thwap of the cushion at quickdraw speed, snickering. "Sorry...I mean, how often do I get to beat up on an admiral?" She fully withdraws now, tucking the pillow in her lap and leaning against the back of the couch sideways. "Your mother...she sounds like a woman of strong opinions?"
Riley tries, but is not quite fast enough to fend off that pillow. Snagging his own he pitches it on your general direction, showing a decided lack of tactics but too amused to care. Snickering with a purely delighted grin he nods, "I think the phrase she prefers is 'alpha bitch'. Although I think the rest of us were rather poor wolves. Still, it led to classic moments when I was very young and a teacher asked what my parents did for a living."
Clara yelps and tries to duck the pitched one, hurling her own back in response with a laugh. "Evil man!" she announces, scooping up the traded cushion on her side now and trying not to grin too much. "I can imagine it did. It's an apt term for some women. Is Kashid primarily matriarchal?"
Riley manages to scoop up the thrown cushion, only after it clonks him in the chest however. "I try. Evil is a refined art doncha' know." He shakes his head amiably, "Not as such. It's really a pretty egalitarian planet. Mom's just ... ummm, polite, she's my mother I need -polite- words..." He's snickering softly, "A very strong personality."
"And we all know you're ancient and have had years to perfect it," Clara teases, wrinkling her nose. "Sounds like back home, except my great-grandmother's pretty...yeah. Where do the polite words come from? I keep forgetting to use them, and Grandmother keeps hanging up on me," she adds with a smirk.
Riley hunches forward, affecting the palsy of advanced age and dropping a creak into his voice, "Old and decrepit I am, whippersnapper, and don't you forget it none!" Flashing a grin that's entirely at odds with his imitation he relaxes back against the couch shedding years as quickly as he acquired them. "I at least have the luck that Mom doesn't -expect- polite words. She's very straightforward. Still, maybe we could get Nick to write us a list. He's good at polite, eh?"
Clara makes a rude noise, rolling her eyes. "Oh, sure. You're old, that makes me nearly as ancient. Don't forget, I happen to know all your vital stats," she menaces with an evil grin, then chuckles. "I almost think that'd be preferable to Grandmother's idea of 'socially acceptable'." She hesitates for a moment, then smiles fondly along with a nod. "He's...a gentleman."
Stretching out his long legs, Riley plunks tennis shoe bedecked feet in one of the evil chairs. Using his ankles he tugs his impromptu ottoman a hair closer for comfort's sake. "I still say we set my Mother onto your Grandmother." He pauses a beat, "And then sell -tickets-. Two strong minded women with wildly different methods. Nothing would remain standing!" Those last words cause his ears to redden ever so slightly.
Clara leans her head against the wall, snickering as she twists her own legs around to sit tailor fashion. "It'd be the sporting event of the year!" she agrees with a broad grin. "You and I could totally clean up, and then quit the day jobs and be ri-..." she pauses with a blink. "You blush?" she notes, incredulous.
Riley's expression is of startled innocence. "Last I knew I was capable of it, yeah. Not by my -choice- mind, if I could have had the ability to do so switched off I'd've done so -years- ago..."
Clara responds by tossing the cushion back again, aiming for the head. "-Not- what I meant, but I get the hint."
Riley snickers quietly, half ducking but being once again too slow. "Sorry," he apologizes, and that one word is loaded with a great deal more heartfelt expression than syllables. "It was the word 'gentleman'."
Clara tilts an elbow up to lean her upper arm on the back of the couch and her head on that shoulder. "Don't apologize," she responds quietly. "Why 'gentleman'? Does that bring up unpleasant memories?"
Riley pauses a moment to realize he has -both- cushions. Like Pen presented with two tennis balls it's almost like he has no idea what to do. So in the spirit of solving the dilemma he cheerfully pitches them both back, the second a hair after the first. "Nah, just caused me to remember certain promises I made to uh...behave. Honalee's suggestion when I called the other night. About not borrowing trouble for those I'm fond of."
Clara snaps the arm she's not resting on up over her head for protection, a syncopated yelp emerging as both cushions make contact in a row. She straightens to collect them with a grin before looking up curiously. "I think I'm concerned, but I'm also getting the feeling that this falls into the category of something you don't want to discuss."
"On pain of Honalee and Anya -both- having me hauled out and shot with the short end of a tangler." Riley agrees quietly, "Not to mention a vast abuse of the word 'Greggykins' at length. I swear, you ever want to go back in time and change -one- thing? Me, I know what I'd pick. None of the big things, oh no, too much chance of screwing up all the rest. And don't get me wrong, I like my life. If I could just go back and turn the volume down on -one- recorded message from home when a certain maddening Edreeni woman was in hearing range."
Clara tosses one of the cushions back, albeit more in a returning gesture than in actual effort, then hugs the other to her chest thoughtfully, something obviously percolating behind hazeled green eyes. "I think we all have something we'd like to change," she says almost absently, then flashes up a grin. "Is that where she got it from? Poor you. Greggykins, indeed," she adds with a snicker.
Riley scoops up the returned cushion. Absently he resumes tormenting the piece of frayed and broken trim on its corner. He offers a vague but shy grin, nodding. "Corvil's fault. Somehow we'd gotten into one of those things where we tried to come up with more and more absurd things to call each other and the whole family caught on. I still get mail addressed to some of the scarier of those nicknames. Keeps the mail room on its toes, eh?"
Clara returns the grin with a faintly puzzled but sincere one of her own, leaning her head against the wall again. "Corvil...being? I'd say an ex-girlfriend, but if it was a contest, then I'd say a brother. Can I ask what the scarier one he came up with was?"
"Oldest brother," Riley explains with a grin, "Corvil, then me, then Zach, then Evvy's youngest. And if that doesn't confuse the situation enough, my mother's name's Evvy too so there's no -telling-, eh?" He sighs in mock longs-sufferance, "Punkintater. And I honestly -don't- recall where it came from anymore."
To her credit, Clara doesn't exactly burst into uncontrollable laughter. What she does do is make an odd sort of noise as she reddens slightly from holding her breath. "How...creative," she manages in a strangled voice after a moment. "I think I'll stick to Greggykins if you're being a goof?"
Riley can't quite help but snicker at the expression, "You can laugh, it's okay. It's an insanely random nickname. He got stuck with 'Mugwump' from Mom though, so I guess turnabout is fair play. Greggykins is probably safer. At least that's -explicable-."
Clara finally does allow herself to dissolve into quiet laughter, covering her eyes with one hand. "Oh, saints...sometimes I wish I'd had siblings just to have stories like this," she admits merrily. "Just remind me to steal your skates first if I ever call you that."
Riley snickers quietly, nodding in a pleased fashion. "I think I can remind you, ayup. Sibs are good to have, I'll be the first to say it. For all they can be a hassle indeed as well. Evvy insisted on dress whites for her wedding in the name of all that's holy. And with the sun... It was worse than snow blindness with her friends, and then me'n Corvil to boot."
Clara continues to laugh, sympathy mixing in with utter cheerfulness as she finally start to let go of the last bit of uncomfortable tension. "Oh, no...the entire congregation had to wear sunglasses? Most of my friends had all the men wear dress grays, thank goodness. A family sounds like a definite goodness," she decides with a grin.
"Want mine?" Riley asks with a cheerful grin, "I'm sure I could trade you a couple of them. I'll even give you Zach, he's a low maintenance relative." Sprawling comfortably he edges his impromptu ottoman to a better position. "It was a rather bright affair. I think Evvy just wanted to show us all off. That and it made her husband stand out quite a bit in a black tux and tails, eh?"
Clara shakes her head vehemently, eyes dancing. "Thanks, but I've kidnapped Rhys into that position, for all that ... never mind. I won't go into what he suggested at lunch today," she adds, snickering, then calmly reaches out with the cushion in the attempt at another rapidfire, unsuspected battering. "Sounds like a debutante ball."
SECURITY> Kyara stumbles in with a yawn, nodding to Anya as she leans on the desk. "Is Riley in? His fridge is looking to be my savior right now."
Riley erks in startlement as he glances up from tugging on a pillow's edge to take the cushion full in the face. Startled into even more uncontrollable snickers he nods. "Pretty similar, ayup." He grins, "Rhys's a good guy. I won't even hold being a pilot against him." He offers a wink.
SECURITY> Anya looks up from her terminal and offers a smile, "Chief's in, yup." She glances towards the door. "I'm assuming he's coherent since Chief Aleron's in there with him. It's odd not having the radios."
SECURITY> Kyara blinks. "She didn't give it back yet? Maybe she's distracting him well." She contemplates the office door for a moment, and grins as she comes around the desk. "Ah well, we'll see."
Kyara walks here from the Security Central.
With a war-yelp Riley leaps commando style over the back of the couch, dragging the pillows with him. "I'll never capitulate, never!"
"All I'll admit is that it had to do with too much grog and dancing on the tables," Clara shoots back with a wry grin, then darts forward in the attempt to liberate at least one of the cushions. "You have all my ammunition, you goof!" she exclaims, not seeing the door open as she half leans over the couch, arms flying. "Give it back or I tell Honalee everything!"
Kyara comes to a halt, blinking. "I'm still dreaming," she murmurs. "I'm asleep, on my mat, and I'm still dreaming. That's the only logical explanation."
Riley's voice is mildly muffled by the couch, "Never wench! Your evil master Honalee cannot save you now. She has trained you well, but not in the art of..." There's an ominous pause and then a pillow whizzes from behind the couch towards Clara, "Pillow-fu!"
"Ha! You just -think- I'm untrained! Earth girls aren't -that-...ack!" Clara yelps, trying to avoid the pillow and utterly surprised at the voice as she goes tumbling over the back of the couch in a thud. "Evil man!" comes up her voice in a laughing muffled sound.
Kyara giggles, glad to be out of the way of plumped missiles. "Um, I take it you two are having fun?"
"Hi Kya!" Riley calls cheerfully. His voice echoes a bit, "Ooh look, my pen I was wondering where that waaaaack!" This last is of course as Clara comes tumbling down on top of him. "Hey! It's raining medics!"
Clara is simply laughing too hard to respond, aiming instead for a poke at whatever it is she landed on, which looks like flannel covered ribs. "Best things come from on high!" she crows. "Hiya, Kyara!"
Oh dear, that's a problem. See Riley is, unsurprisingly, excessively ticklish. He squirms away from poking fingers, laughing helplessly. "Aaack! -evil- medics." Grinning like an imbecile he scoops Clara up in arms and attempts to plunk her back on the couch.
Kyara snickers, folding terrycloth covered arms. "Raining medics? I thought they only ruled in medbay."
Clara shrieks another laugh as she floor scoots away, half attempting to still tickle and not get dropped anywhere painful at the same time. "Revenge is mine, sayeth the evil medic! You -know- we get classes on torture in school!" she cries, laughing madly.
Riley does not manage to get Clara over the couch's back since she maintains the tickling. Instead he ends up flopping back down behind the couch again, Clara still on top of him. Snickering helplessly he attempts to avoid evil fingers, "Kya! Rescue me! Ack! I'm being attacked by an evil medic! Ack!"
"No, help me!" Clara calls in return, giggling furiously as she attempts to seek out various places on the ribs, half sitting up from where she's at. "Chaaaarge!" she hollers in the age old battle cry.
Kyara chuckles hesitantly, then shrugs. "What the heck. Oh Claaaaarrraaaa... " She makes her way behind the couch, fingers at the ready. "Are medics ticklish too?"
You know, it's at moments like this it's a good thing nobody's got a camera. Riley's trying to crawl from beneath Clara, half out of the flannel shirt in his attempts to evade tickling fingers. The fact that he's laughing so hard is making it impossible to manage much effort however. The penguins on his t-shirt are eyeing people in solemn dismay. "Ack, ack, aaaaack! I dunno, we can find out though..." He turns suddenly, bringing his own fingers into play as well.
"Huh?" Clara says, half over her shoulder without taking her attention away from her own torturing going on. "Are medics wha--ahaaahhhh!" she shrills, collapsing at the onslaught. "Evil! Evil, wicked, horrid man!" she squeaks through gales. "Kya, help!"
Kyara laughs and pounces toward Clara. "Pincer attack!"
Riley laughs quietly from beneath Clara, a low and delighted sound. "Your evil may be great, but see I have reinforcements!" His fingers continue to seek ticklish spots, albeit inexpertly.
"Not me!" Clara yelps in gasping laughter, struggling in the effort to pull away, except away is in the direction of the back of the couch. Hello, obstacle. "Get -him-!" she adds, helplessly spluttering at the two sided attack.
Kyara giggles, shaking her head as she joins in the fray. "I can't! You're on top of him! Lucky you!"
Riley begins to snicker helplessly again. Squirming around on his chest he has to give up on attacking but he can try and crawl free. "Must...flee...crazy...women..."
Clara stops trying to attack, precisely at Kyara's reminder of her proximity to certain other Chiefs, and makes an all out concerted effort to scramble in the opposite direction even though her laughter never slacks off a bit. "Uncle! Aunt! Lots of little cousins!" she gasps.
That wasn't exactly what Kya meant by that phrase *snicker*, but she grins and hops out of the way. "This, I believe, would be the definition of 'silly'?"
Riley manages to fetch up against the wall and sit there snickering helplessly a moment. He tries to tug his shirt back all the way on but it takes a couple of tries since he's laughing so hard still. "Think you're right, Kya."
Clara comes to a stop to one side of Riley's legs, kneeling down and slouched slightly, hands on her knees, still giggling helplessly and out of breath. "Very silly, definitely," she notes with a grin, then peers up. "Wicked woman. Remind me to head over to camp and make you do pushups when you enlist."
Kyara laughs, heading toward the fridge. "Can I get a soda, Riley? That was what I came in here for originally. What're aunt and uncle and cousins?"
Riley reaches an arm up over the couch and hauls himself to his feet. He offers Clara a hand up. "Sure, feel free. It's what they're there for, for folks to drink." He grins, "Yelling 'Uncle's a way to declare you've conceded something."
Clara takes the hand and hauls up on it, still grinning and shaking her head. "Or it's extended family. Your parents siblings and their children," she adds in clarification, an occasional snicker still punctuating her words before she peers up at Riley with a smirk. "I -told- you Earth girls were well trained."
Placing the hand not offered in hauling uppery over his heart and bowing fluidly, Riley muffles another snicker. "Which I'll concede, yes. Well trained in various evils."
Kyara frowns thoughtfully, opening her soda. "Siblings? Anybody want anything while I'm over here?"
Clara shakes her head with a broad grin, retrieving her hand after a second's hesitation and leaning against the back of the couch. "Kashidian sailors must get more training than Academy pilots, I swear," she mutters back at Riley with a grin, then glances over her shoulder. "If he's got orange soda, raid one for me?"
Riley straightens and flashes Clara a grin and an amiable nod. "At least Kashidian sailors with large families." He drops onto 'his' end of the couch. "Water Kya? I'm still on the enforced anti-caffeine clause."
Kyara nods, turning to pull out a bottle of water, and tosses it to Riley. She brings a can over to Clara. Does Clara see her shake it up behind the open fridge door? We'll see. "I thought that hold was off tonight, Riley."
Clara swings her legs up and over the back of the couch to drop down into the opposite corner, reaching forward to snatch one of the cushions and hug it to her chest with a mischievous grin. "Siblings are people born to the same set of biological parents you have," she explains to Kyara, taking the can gratefully.
Riley catches the plastic bottle with a nod of thanks. "Ahhh, try telling Anya that. She's refusing to put me back onto the schedule tonight. And uh, well she said a lot of other things too." He chuckles and twists off the top. "I figure by morning she'll be itching to throw it all back in my lap anyhow. I'm not too worried."
Kyara makes her way to one of the chairs, pulling hard on her soda. Pausing to take a breath, she nods. "Born? Not sha-vendi? Ah, that explains Anya's remark about your radio."
Clara pauses before opening her soda. "Sha-vendi?" she asks curiously. "I don't think that's a word I'm familiar with." She glances over at Riley with a grin. "I'll give you your radio back tonight if it'll make you feel better? Only if you promise to sleep though," she adds, fingers hooking under the tab. *Jaws theme song here*
Riley gestures to the desk chair, "Kya, if you're gonna snag a chair, at least snag a comfortable one, eh?" He looks excessively grateful at the mention of his radio. "Peesh, I'll sleep, grovel, do anything you name to get the thing back. It's been nerve-wracking as all get out to be short it."
Kyara has no problem with that, rising to climb into the desk chair. "Anya seems a bit out of whack too about it." She nods to Clara, searching for an equivalent. "Sha-vendi... adopted?"
"Sure thing," Clara replies to Riley with a grin. "It's in the vault in medical. We'll grab it before crashing out tonight, which you are -not- doing in here, by the way," she notes firmly, the can finally cracking open and...yup, orange spray all over her as she jumps up with sticky yelp. "Kyaaaaa!"
Riley snags his pillow and ducks beneath it so as to avoid any sprayed droplets of soda, snickering. "I didn't -mean- to sleep in here last night." He's trying not to laugh, but it's a failed proposition.
Kyara doubles over laughing, eyes dancing merrily. "It does work!" she crows. "I didn't really believe it!"
Clara just stands there dripping for a moment, starting the giggle again as she shakes her head ruefully. "Dead. You are dead, Stilvani. I am going to torture you sooooo bad," she intones, obviously not meaning a word as she set the can down and starts to pull off the button down and leave the t-shirt. "Evil. Riley, you don't have a towel in here, do you?
Riley hauls himself to his feet with an amiable grin. Padding behind the desk he tugs open a small closet and rummages on a high shelf. Tugging down a couple of towels he tosses them Clara-ward. "Several. And spare uniforms and boots. You'd be amazed how much slime and muck I seem to find." He heads back to the couch, dropping heavily back into place. "That was classic Kya. -Evil-. But classic."
Kyara grins happily. "Get in line, Clara, get in line," she sings out, executing a sitting bow in Riley's direction. "I found an entire book of neat little tricks like that."
"I think your uniforms would be a tad bit big for me," Clara replies with a grin as she catches the towels to drop them on the couch. She wads up her wet overshirt and flings it at Kyara with a grin. "Saints add preservatives to us. And you thought my puns were bad."
Riley pulls his legs up, sitting in a half curl. "A book of ways to torment people?"
Kyara snickers, catching the shirt and, looking around for a place to drop it and failing, sets it down beside her. "Yes indeed. 'Practical Jokes and Surefire Bets' or something like that. It was most entertaining."
Clara towels vigorously at her hair, snickering. "Lovely. Remind me to lock up Medbay and require a password to get in," she decides.
Riley groans very quietly, "Oh no, not practical jokes... no please, in Peesh's name, I never did anything so vile as to deserve -that-."
Kyara blinks, looking back and forth between the two of you. "What's wrong with practical jokes? You were laughing hard enough a few minutes ago, Riley." She grins at Clara. "I've got a lockpicker."
Clara stops toweling to peer up at Riley from beneath the towel, a delighted grin on her face. "You mean you haven't read my disciplinary record?" She returns to toweling, a wicked chuckle emerging from somewhere underneath.
Riley just mock-cowers from the both of you, "Doomed, I am -doomed-!" He grins at Kyara, "Practical jokes, uh, have a tendency to trigger more practical jokes, see. Endless cycle."
Kyara laughs, a gleam in her eye. "Oh, that does sound like a fine challenge, Riley." Lifting her soda again, she gives Clara a half-humorous/half-curious look. "Your disciplinary record? Do tell."
Clara finally pulls the towel away, left behind with a poof of shamelessly tangled and carefree curls, which she crosses her eyes to look up at. "Lovely. I'm a dustmop," she mutters, then grins at Kyara. "Most of it's public record now. Let's just say I have a few little dings and gigs from zinging the wrong folk."
Riley stretches out a bit further still on the couch. As it's Edreeni length he's still not taking up -that- much of it, but he is curled on one side. "Nothing wrong with dustmoppery. It's a noble profession." He offers a cheerful grin. "Zinging the -right- folks is no fun, though."
Kyara chuckles. "I will attempt to avoid zinging the wrong ones, yes. Or at least, I will avoid getting caught."
Clara pulls the askew clip from her hair and attempts without effect to tame it back down again. "Ooooh, does that mean the first time I nab you, you're not tacking it on my record? I like this man," she decides, snaking out a hand and untying one of his shoes while grinning at Kyara. "Just don't get caught is my advice."
Riley peers at the untied shoelace a moment, blinking his gaze into focus and offering a belated, "Hey..." He tilts his shoes to regard them, "They don't match anymore..."
Kyara blinks, getting up to stand on the chair, peering over the desk for a better look, and giggles. "I think I read this one too..."
Clara leans to one side and obligingly twitches the other shoe untied. "There you go," she offers with and innocent smile as she straightens. "Your wish is my command." She grins up at Kyara. "Don't fall."
Riley regards the shoes again a moment as if regarding fine art. Finally he nods, "That'll do." And with that he tucks his feet back in the semi-curled position he was in.
Kyara giggles, carefully climbing back down to sit on the chair again. (Must be an interesting sight, her behind a desk that big.) She gives Riley an innocent look. "Aren't you, like, tired or something?"
Clara grins affably, shaking her head at the curling up. "She's right, actually. I should have let you nap hours ago...want us to vacate so you can snooze?"
Riley shakes his head amiably, "Nah, not really tired. I'm just being scum and getting comfortable. I may be officially out of leave, but I figure on relaxing anyhow. I haven't been shot at in twenty-four hours. It's a remarkably relaxing realization."
Kyara blinks at Riley over her can. "You can't possibly get shot at every day... can you?"
Clara unhooks the scanner from her ever-present belt and aims it at the reclining figure. "Bang," she supplies, then reholsters it. "Did you want another 24 hours, Riley? I can amend the orders if you want."
"Well not -every- day," Riley allows, "But if 72 hours were to go by without plasma or tangler fire getting exchanged I would probably drop dead of shock." He snickers quietly at Clara, "Thank you for restoring my fundamental faith in the universe." He shakes his head, "As tempting as it suddenly sounds, I'm sure poor Anya's going bonkers. I'm not gonna send her over the deep end just for another day of random nappage."
Kyara shakes her head slightly, but doesn't pursue that subject. "Give her... raspberries, did you say?... along with Riley's radio privileges back," she suggests.
Clara executes a seated bow, then reaches for what's left of her soda that she didn't end up wearing and takes a long pull. "I'm not going to hesitate to enforce another day like this if necessary," she notes, then blushes. "Well...not -exactly- like this," she adds in an apologetic undertone before nodding. "Oh, yeah. I'll give his radio back tonight. I promised."
Riley rubs at his neck idly, "I don't think I can manage to be this stupid again. I mean not only did I have to pull this stunt, I pulled it during an Interegnuum the day before Nick left. If Anya -ever- forgives me I'll be a lucky man."
Kyara smiles, shaking her head. "Consider it a lesson learned? For both of you," she adds.
Clara glances up at the admonition, then over at Riley. "Yeah. Yeah, I think you could say that," she agrees thoughtfully, than grins down at her soda suddenly. "Not that we'll let him pull this stunt once Interegnuum's over, either, though."
Riley drops his hand back down, recrossing his arms over his chest and hiding the solemn stares of the penguins. "I managed seven years of living in this insanity without keeling over from exhaustion before, I think I can manage at the very least another seven."
Kyara smiles slowly. "With some help, yes," she nods to Riley, an even firmer nod agreeing with Clara. "Damn right."
Clara lifts a brow, peering over just as stubbornly. "Oh? And if I pull up your med records, how many times will I see an official medical leave ordered by Honalee?" she retorts. "You're not gonna scare me like that again. Sorry."
This time Riley's ears do not just redden, this time he full scale blushes. Not a bright red, but enough that it's noticeable. "Uh, I take the fifth. A lot."
Kyara stares at Riley's ears with fascination.
Yep, just the ears. :)
"A fifth of what?" Clara asks innocently, taking a sip of her soda. "Rhys did mention finding some grog earlier, although I don't know if a fifth would even permeate through you," she decides airily.
>>OOC: Clara notes, just in case, that grog is truly frightening and evil stuff, and highly dangerous if you let the wrong folks make it. Even the non-alcoholic is scary, especially when served from a sterilized toilet. Long story. ;)
>>OOC: Riley just -rolls-... Of course considering I helped build a moose once to appear to urinate lemonade, I should not comment.
Kyara snickers. "We could find out?" she suggests.
Riley chokes back a snicker, "I honestly couldn't tell you. It's been so many years since I've had more than one drink at a sitting I don't know if that wouldn't knock me flat, eh?"
Clara regards Kyara thoughtfully, then glances at Riley, then at the ceiling in thought. "Okay, let's see...body weight, consumption, metabolism..." she murmurs, calculating mentally before grinning at Kyara. "He'd be sloshed for a loop."
Kyara chuckles. "If it'd do that to /him/, I'd hate to see what it'd do to me."
"'Sloshed for a loop'," Riley quotes, grinning. "Gee, see me leaping to give that one a try? Just bounding to head down to the Fruvous and try it." He offers a dry grin, "Heaven help me if I went and had alcohol disconnect the internal censors, eh?"
"Put you in my operating room so I could filter your blood," Clara replies to Kyara with a rueful grin. "Now a quarter of that would be interesting." She carefully doesn't mention her own capacity, but gives Riley a long, serious look, then shakes her head. "Nope. Too much that could go wrong."
Kyara snickers at Clara, though she gives Riley a long thoughtful look before shaking her head at herself. She distracts herself by sliding down to get an other soda.
Riley nods amiably to that, "Which is why I haven't had more than a drink at a set in umm.. Holy cow..." He straightens up so as to count, "Fifteen years? Something like that."
Clara sinks back a bit into the corner of the sofa, eyes almost distant for a moment. "Since you were Niko's age, then," she notes absently, then shakes her head with a grin. "I forget...you're ancient," she adds, amused.
Kyara's eyes widen. "Fifteen years? Goodness, man, what do you do to unwind?"
Riley nods absently, "Yeah... Nick's..." He grins at Kyara, caught off the track. "What, you mean if I actually have time enough and all? I'm afraid it's not terribly exciting. I find one of the dozens of little secret rooms in this place, grab a couple of sandwiches and a few noveltapes and then hole up with bad music blaring on my headphones and read until something disastrous enough occurs for Anya to come scouring my hiding places."
Clara casts an almost grateful look at Kyara with a grin, then shakes her head. "To each his own," she quotes. "I suppose if you like that sort of thing. I go hole up in my room, for which I am glad is soundproof, or my neighbors would string me up atop the Complex."
Kyara chuckles. "Whatever blows your horn, I suppose. My methods... seem to be unpopular."
Riley offers a grin, "Oh don't get me wrong, I enjoyed drinking. At least I seem to remember doing so, it seems kind of inexplicable when I examine the memories -too- closely, but things got a little too complicated to drink anymore."
Clara smirks slightly, shaking her head at Riley. "I think I'd nearly go back to double bars just to see an episode like that, but not quite. Besides, people do and say...oh, stuff they sometimes regret after a shot or four too many." She peers over at Kyara. "What're your methods?"
Kyara coughs, looking away. "Aside from reading stuff I'm not supposed to? Hunting's popular on Hunnian." Her mouth quirks. "Alcohol can be good, depending on the type."
That innocent 'oh, stuff' garners another blush from Riley, this one even brighter than the last. To attempt to cover it he hmms, "Hunting? Ya' oughta try fishing with Denner. You won't catch anything, but it's always good for a laugh."
"Especially if you push him out of the boat?" Clara stagewhispers to Riley, although she does give him a somewhat apologetic smile before grinning at Kyara. "I guess the one way my upbringing got me. I like expensive alcohol. Not easy on military pay."
Kyara snickers, waggling a finger at Riley. "You enjoyed going with him, you said it yourself."
Riley hefts his feet up onto one of the uncomfortable chairs as a foot-rest, snickering quietly. "Hey, he -deserved- it. Besides, anytime Denner and I go fishing he can be guaranteed to end up in the water by his own devices a half dozen times. What cost then another trip, even if it was assisted?" He nods to Kyara, grinning. "Oh it's a riot. He always has some new scheme."
Clara chuckles, pulling one of her ankles up on the opposing knee. "And how many times do you end up going for a swim, hmmm?" she asks, peering sidelong at Riley.
Kyara chuckles. "It certainly sounds highly entertaining. Maybe I can drag Clara along on a fishing trip." Her eyes dance mischievously.
Riley pauses to consider this, "It depends on how many times he turns the boat over, eh? I'm not the one attempting new fishing techniques see. Usually I'm the one in the bottom of the boat laughing too hard to move, see."
Clara just stares at Kyara in horror. "You mean...real fish? Like, slimy and squirmy?" She shudders, and odd reaction from a woman who has no problems being up to her elbows in a human's midsection. She peers at Riley in mock disbelief. "You have a sense of humor? No way."
Kyara grins at Clara. "I suppose you'll throw up when I eat it straight out of the water too?" She flashes a somewhat less mischievous grin at Riley. "I take it Denner's hard to offend by mere laughter."
Riley hmphs in mild amusement. With mock solemnity he nods. "I know, I know, it's a hard one to believe. But once in a while, when the planets are in alignment and the proper sacrifices have been made to the gods.... When the seas boil and the rivers turn to blood, I have been known to snicker." He blinks at Kyara, "Umm, somehow I think that'd even give Denner pause." He grins ruefully, "Umm, well no, he can be offended."
Clara doesn't comment to that, but does take her own cushion by the edge and swing her arm out sideways in the attempt to thwap Riley in the chest. "I think...perhaps I should stay on dry land? Never mind that I grew up on an island," she adds with a grin.
Kyara just can't keep a grin off her face. "He must be one heck of a whatever-he-does-around-here for him to still be here after Denner debacles."
Riley oofs softly, snickering. Lifting his brows and casting a slightly wide-eyes look of amusement Clara's way he nods. "Denner's a good sort. No rank to speak of, and may I eat my hat if I ever cure him of the word 'sir' and a tendency to salute. But he's got an oblique way of looking at things. For every dozen cockamamie ideas he has, he has that thirteenth that drags us out of a bad situation by the skin of our teeth."
Clara nods affably, pulling the cushion back in to hug to her chest. "I do like him," she agrees. "I wish I had time to work with him on this latest fix, but I just don't have the veterinary experience. I do sentient critters, not furball critters."
Kyara looks... impressed would be the closest word. "Why did he create them in the first place?"
Riley pauses a beat and then snickers, "Denner didn't create Denners. He did the same thing poor Nick did. Bought one thinking it was a toy."
Clara shakes her head with rueful amusement. "An easy mistake to make," she decides, the grins over at Riley. "Well, except for you. Why in the world don't they like you, I wonder?"
Kyara chuckles. "Poor Niko. Please tell me he didn't get in trouble for that?" She casts a curious look at Riley, wondering the same thing as Clara.
Riley shakes his head rather sadly. "I have -no- idea. Anya still picks on me for spending hours last time we had them trying to tempt one into just tolerating me." He lifts one hand to show a jagged scar on the heel of his palm, "It didn't buy it." He looks rather sheepish, "I'm afraid he did. I tried to keep it tied down, but uh, he made no secret of it...and the Sectassians...and..."
Clara dips her head, not adding to the comments on Niko's punishment except to quietly say, "I don't think he was quite as prepared for it as he thought he was."
Kyara winces. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was the first time he got in trouble. That's always a shocker."
Clara nods vaguely at Kyara, setting her empty can to one side for a moment to lace her hands together. "He was...yeah. First time's a heartbreaker, you're right."
Riley nods thoughtfully, tugging on one sleeve. "Poor guy, I really felt awful..."
Kyara's eyes flick back and forth between the two of you. "At least he's got it out of the way?" she suggests weakly.
Riley glances at Clara, brows lifted questioningly. "I uh, don't know. Clara was the one kind enough to track after him."
Clara doesn't look up for some reason, shrugging. "I think so," she replies after a moment of thought. "We spent...a great deal of time discussing it, along with other things. I think he'll be okay if he keeps his skivvies out of the wringer from now on."
Kyara just peers at Clara for the mental image that phrase engenders, but decides not to comment on it. "I'd hazard a bet that it'll be a while before he screws up again. Not that this was /really/ all his fault."
Riley shakes his head emphatically, "Not his fault at all. But the guy wouldn't buy that, or any of the rest of the lecture I handed out."
Clara is still oddly quiet at the discussion, toying with the loose fabric of her jeans hem above her boots. "He didn't mean to..."
Kyara nods to Clara's words. "Exactly." She gives Riley an odd look. "You lectured him?" Then she shakes her head. "Nope, never mind. I do not want to know."
Riley sighs softly, "He was so bound and determined to write the whole thing up on his own ticket. I tried to explain to him that Security's a team. Like in soccer, if the goalie misses the ball everybody else had to have made a mistake too to let it get that far. But he wasn't buying. Very frustrating."
Clara folds her arms about herself and nods vaguely. "I did my best not to say anything even after I figured it out." She glances at Riley seriously. "That night...the one I goofed too," she explains as a side note. "I think he's got a better handle on maybe not trying to take it all on himself now."
Kyara sighs. "That was honorable of him, if rather miscomprehending." She gives Clara a curious look. "Goodness, did the entire AF Complex force get in trouble that day?"
"The only goof you pulled was owning up to it on paper, Clara." Riley rummages for his water bottle. "I deserved what I got and didn't have any call to come down on you like that. I'd not really gotten past Honalee being gone yet at that point."
"I did what I felt was professionally necessary," Clara replies simply, rubbing absently at a scuff on one boot. "I'd do it again, in the same circumstances." She brushes at the remaining scuff without effect. "Is she coming back anytime soon?"
Kyara snorts rather loudly. "You did not deserve it, Riley." She shuts up, resting her chin on her hands folded on the desk
Riley fumbles with the cap, knocking back a swig of water as if it were something stronger. "Uh, she's trying I guess. Last we talked about she was thinking about private practice in Copper Hill. I jokingly suggested she go in for delegate from Kashid. She even mentioned checking into that. But uh, it's not been mentioned the last couple times we talked. I have this terrifying suspicion she's finding home's not such a bad place to be."
Clara lets her crossed leg slip down over the other in a full cross, tucking the foot behind her calf. "Hmm." She doesn't look up, but does note after a moment of thought, "I think I'm going to give her a ring...maybe tomorrow." She glances sidelong. "Would you mind at all?"
Kyara remains quiet, just listening and watching beneath half-closed eyelids.
There's an obvious flare of hope in Riley's expression, rapidly quelled in an attempt to keep from being too obvious but he shakes his head. "Not in the slightest of course. I can give you her code if you need it."
Clara doesn't catch the expression, as she returned to staring at her knee intently. Hey, denim. Fascinating. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, I'll need that. You...do you think she'll mind?"
Kyara gives Riley a curious look. And Clara too. "You people are confusing," she mumbles.
Riley shakes his head most emphatically, chocolate colored curls all but flying. "Not in the slightest. She'd love to hear from you I bet." He pauses a beat and blinks at Kyara, "Huh?"
Clara glances up at Kyara with a wistful smile. "Hey, we aim to please. If we didn't confuse you when you first came in, why not try now?" She peers over at Riley for a moment, then nods once. "Thank you."
Kyara chuckles. "That was not confusing. I was glad to see it." She gestures toward Riley. "Why do you look so happy about Clara talking to Honalee, and why do you," her gaze shifts to Clara, "Look so uncertain about it?"
Riley glances Clara-ward with an excessively guilty look and suddenly finds the bottled water in his hands of extreme interest. "...the fifth."
Clara trades the glance with Riley, only with a faintly shaken one of her own. "Uh...yeah. It's...complicated, Kyara," she offers, looking down again. Oooh. More denim.
Kyara sighs, looking more than a little disappointed. "I see."
Riley takes another pull from the bottled water before re-attaching the cap with exaggerated care so as to manage the task. "Um, guess it's getting late."
Clara glances up with a hint of humor returning. "You do? Explain it to me?" she asks with a grin. "Just don't shake up any more of my soda cans." At Riley's words, she's unfolding her legs and on her feet in seconds. "Right. Late. You wanted your radio, right?"
Kyara snickers slightly at Clara. "Yeah, late. It was late when I walked in." She slides to her feet with a stretch. "Ah well, I should go see if I've been locked out of my quarters yet. G'night, folks."
Riley glances at the floor, "Nah, that's okay. It can, um, wait. No worries, eh?" He offers a wave to Kyara, "Night Kya. Thanks for coming by."
Clara glances up at Kyara and grins. "If you are, comm me. You can bunk down in my quarters for the night," she offers. "Wouldn't be the first or last time I've made friends with the couch in my office."
Kyara nods, snitching another soda before heading out the door. "Thanks Clara. And both of you get some sleep!" she calls over her shoulder.
Kyara walks towards the Security Central.
Clara hesitates after the smaller woman leaves, then sighs and dips a hand into her pants pocket, coming up with a small black radio and holding it out in a flattened hand. "I wasn't going to make you go back to Medbay," she explains quietly.
Riley glances up at you, eyes wide open and questioning for a long moment before he can't but avert them. He reaches for the radio rather hesitantly. Taking it he peers down at it in his hand a long moment, "Thanks Clara... I... thank you."
Clara returns the stare evenly, then looks away as well and moves to scoop up her damp shirt. "You really shouldn't sleep in here again tonight," she notes, not looking back.
Riley drops the radio in the breast pocket of his shirt. "I uh, um..shouldn't no. But I'd ..." There's a pause and he says in a rush, "...lay even odds I wouldn't make it all the way to my place if I tried."
Clara does an abrupt about face, posture screaming her Academy background and concern on her face. "You -what-? Riley, why didn't you -say- something?" she snaps out, then sighs. "What if I help? As long as you can walk at all, that should do it..."
Riley looks excessively abashed, "I'd really rather just crash here and let my dignity survive if you don't mind? The couch's as comfortable as my bed anyhow. Silly wall units are too short."
Clara starts to extend a hand to you, then hesitates for a moment and withdraws it with a solemn nod. "If you say so," she finally says. "I guess...if you'll just give me Honalee's comm, I'll get out of your hair, okay?"
Riley's brows lift in an expression of entreaty, but he casts his eyes down again quickly. "Uh, yeah. If you'd toss me the notepad from the desk?"
Clara turns to rummage on the desk for a notepad and a pen and brings them over, crouching down beside the couch and watching you solemnly as she hands both out. "Is there something else you wanted to talk about?" she asks quietly.
Riley takes the notepad and shakes his head, "Sorry, no, stuff's fine." He scribbles down a stellar comm code. "Kashid's in sector 38. So there'll be a couple seconds hang time and all..."
Clara drops her eyes as well, nodding vaguely. "Yeah, sure. Subspace's a pain at times," she agrees vaguely. "You're sure you don't mind, Riley? I just can't think of anyone better right now."
Riley glances up, offering a grin. "Clara, calling up Honalee's a mighty good thing. Makes me feel a lot better."
Clara leans one arm down to brush at a scuff on her boot, then looks back up seriously as she holds out a hand for the slip of paper. "Okay. I'll give her a buzz in the morning, then."
Riley offers the scrap of paper with a slightly shaking hand, "Sounds good. Night Clara..."
Clara closes her fingers about the paper without really looking at it, holding her hand there for an instant before straightening and moving rapidly to the blanket left over from the other night to shake it out and drape it in place. "Get some sleep. You can go back on duty in the morning," she offers.
Riley sinks into the couch gratefully, slumping down in a fashion that rather implies it was only force of will holding him upright. "Mornin... yeah."
Clara absently brushes one chocolate colored curl back as she straightens the blanket, then steps back and nods, eyes darting around to survey for anything left to do. Scooping up her damp shirt, she does another about face and heads from the room, keying the light as she vanishes out the door.