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Clara stalks into Medbay, disappearing into her office for several moments, then reemerging with a stack of folders to be carried to the night surgeon's desk. She flops into the chair and plucks up a pencil to start scribbling at a furious pace.
DINING> Riley frowns over at the paper, ahhing in understanding. "That's not for operating on -people-... It's for micro-electronics work on defusing bombs, fixing sidearms, that kind of thing."
DINING> Garrand nods. "Ok. You should probably explain that in there so that bureaucrats don't screw things up.
DINING> Riley mmhmms amiably, tugging a pen down from behind one ear and making a note on the paper. "Towards the end was at a really insane hour of the morning, see."
DINING> Garrand nods. "Other than that, it looks to be very workable."
DINING> Riley looks rather relieved, reclaiming the pile. "That's a good thing. It'll get shredded of course and re-done a half dozen times. I do so hate this time of year."
DINING> Garrand nods. "You hate doing it, but I hate chopping it up to pieces. However, you can be sure that in the manners of security, I am the opposite of Lexington.
DINING> A male human dressed in roughly the same manner as Garrand, but less elaborately, comes into the room..
DINING> Riley flashes a grin as he gathers together his empty plate and candy wrapper, "I appreciate that. I appreciate all the help I can get in fact."
DINING> The man walks calmly up to Garrand, and waits.
DINING> Garrand nods. "I know how it is to fight for your livelihood. mater of fact, I am probably the only council member that is for all of the budgets to get passed outright.
DINING> Garrand looks at the young man. "Yes, Charles?"
DINING> Charles replies, "There is a document here for you, it needs to be signed for though. The owner of the signer is right outside."
DINING> Garrand nods. "Ok, hand me the signer." He signs the pad and takes the envelope. "Thanks, Charles."
DINING> Riley offers a rather sad smile, "Yeah, sadly you're likely the only one. Usually they get shredded to hash. The actual final budget meeting is like four hours in a food processor for me. I'm always amazed I'm not a salad topping by the time they're done." He lifts his brows at the young man, waving to Garrand. "Thanks for looking over the thing."
DINING> Riley clambers to his feet, tucking his paperwork under one arm.
DINING> Charles nods. "No problem sir."
DINING> Garrand nods. "No problem Riley. See you later."
DINING> Riley heads towards the Central Atrium.
Clara glances up at the sound of the elevator outside, then peers at the desktop for a long moment before sighing and shaking her head and setting pencil to paper once more.
SECURITY> Riley flops into Anya's abandoned chair and begins poking at the terminal. Click, click... nice buttons. He sets to completing the mass of evil paperwork.
Briga arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Briga strides in..whiskers abristle, 'Doctor...Have you a moment?'
Clara is at a desk behind a stack of paperwork, bent over one folder and writing at a rapid rate. At the hissing of the doors, she starts up, expression fading to professional concern as she rises. "Of course, delegate. How can I help you?"
Briga pads angrily forward, 'My tail /hurts/ and your fool of an assistant /laughed/ at my pain'
Clara comes forward with arms spreading in a universal gesture of good will, a bland smile on her face of comfort. "I apologize for his behavior, of course. I'll speak with him in the morning." She just doesn't add what she'll say. "Please, might I examine the problem? Come this way?" she suggests, leading to a bioscan area.
Briga seems immediately mollified, the tufts on her ears resuming their natural position as she pads after the good doctor, "He doesn't seem to understand the pain that I have felt since the 'incident'".
SECURITY> Daisy, Daisy give me an a-n-s-w-e-r...d---o... Like a wind up music box slowly unwinding, Riley's typing has gotten significantly slower. His spelling's probably unique too. Wow, how often can one use 'A Bicycle Built For Two' in a pose? I love +watches. Y'all will suffer through me RPing by myself.
Clara hesitates for a moment in tugging the scanner from her belt holster, face schooling to immediate calm. "The incident with the elevator?" she clarifies, crouching down to peer at said tail. "May I examine it, then?"
Briga nods her head as she very carefully unwraps the gauze to reveal...a tail. "See how terrible it looks?'
Clara gasps softly as the gauze is removed, seeming completely sincere in her evaluation. "Why, delegate! The fur is...-flattened-. You poor, dear woman. Here, hold still. This won't hurt a bit," she explains, running the scanner over the area and murmuring to herself in Latin.
SECURITY> Poke, tap... Riley's about an inch away from having his head thunk into the monitor. Thunk. Um, edit that... Big surprise, he doesn't notice Kyara enter.
Briga freezes as she hears that, 'It /can't/ be flat....I have fluffy hair, not flat'
SECURITY> Kyara's mouth quirks slightly in amusement, and she tosses half a dozen chocolate bars to the desk approximately two inches from the computer. If /that/ doesn't get his attention, nothing will.
Clara continues to examine, gently ruffling the fur back to it's normal state before sighing with relief. "It was just the effect of the bandage, it seems. I'd say leave it off for a while now, of course. To let the...problem...get air."
SECURITY> Okay, that does acquire Riley's attention. Startled by the cascading thump he all but jumps out of his skin. "Huh, what...Oh, hi Kya." He shifts off the terminal, leaning heavily against the desk. "What's up?"
Briga eyes widens, 'The problem? You mean its worse then I thought?'
Clara glances up seriously, then rises slowly and glances over her readout again. "It's a definite case of psychosomatic post-elevatorious anterioritis." She moves to a nearby desk and takes out a small vial with half a dozen white pills inside, bringing it over to offer it solemnly. "Take two of these a day for the next three days. That should clear up the problem...and pain."
SECURITY> Kyara gestures toward the candy with a smile. "I forgot I owed you those last night." She scans the Chief slowly. "You look beat."
Briga sways a bit at the diagnosis, "Is...is that fatal?'
SECURITY> "Huh?" Ah yeah, that's the coherent and vociferous Riley we've all come to know. "Oh, the bribe yeah. Thanks."
SECURITY> Kyara tilts her head slightly, pronouncing, "You require coffee." She comes around the desk to head toward the machine. "How do you take it?"
Clara waves the scanner at the tablets, extending the vial again with utter sobriety. "Be at ease...it most certainly isn't. Keep the...affected area elevated. Perhaps even as much bedrest as you can stand. Take the prescribed dosage, and in three days you should be as right as rain."
SECURITY> Riley continues to blink at the chocolate bars, attempting to focus. "Caffeine's good. Um, straight."
Briga carefully holds the pills, treating them as is they were precious jewels, 'How high should I keep it elevated?'
Clara tilts her head as she reholsters the scanner and folds her arms. "I'd say don't let it drag on the ground. Perhaps keep it above a ninety degree angle to your body, which is likely easier for extended times if you're reclining."
SECURITY> Kyara nods, soon bringing a mug of straight coffee over to place on the desk. "If that stuff were any thicker, you would need to use a spoon. I'm surprised you're not stretched out on your couch."
SECURITY> Riley blinks a moment at the mug before nodding and wrapping his hands around the mug. "Thanks. I was working."
Briga nods her head solemnly... "But what about my res-pons-ibilities...Vanessa simply /cannot/ do without my advice...who knows /what/ would happen if she had to make any decisions on her own."
Clara reaching out to rest her fingertips comfortingly on the diplomat's furry forearm, offering a reassuring smile. "I know how important your tail is to you, though. There's always the comm, you know. Take a short vacation. Surely you deserve it...?"
SECURITY> Kyara uh huhs. "And if I were to look at what you were typing, how many typos would I find?"
SECURITY> Riley manages by effort of a great deal of will to sip the coffee without making a mess. It's a near thing though. "Dunno. Didn't get far enough to run the spell check." Sorry, the coherency express left half an hour ago.
SECURITY> Kyara chuckles, folding her arms to lean back against the desk. "You require a secretary. Then all you'd have to do is dictate."
Briga smiles, quite mollified, 'You are indeed a credit to this complex and your profession' She peers a bit closely, trying to get a good look at the Doctor's eyes, 'Are you sure you are not part Zaeltran?'
Clara lifts her eyes to show all-too-human greenish hazel, dancing with amusement at the question. "I assure you, madame, I am entirely human, even a native of Earth. But I thank you for the gracious compliment. Do you require any additional assistance tonight?"
SECURITY> Riley sets the mug down again, all but scowling at it. "Huh? Oh, there's dictation machines. But it's usually just easier to type it. Easier to make it say what I want."
SECURITY> Kyara nods slightly. "Usually, perhaps, but not tonight apparently. Come on, Riley, at least take a break."
SECURITY> Riley offers a very vague approximation of a grin, "I am."
Briga offers the doctor a deep bow, 'Once again, I am in your debt...without you assistance, I surely would have perished.' Voice is low, almost a purr now.
SECURITY> Kyara snorts softly. "The definition of a break includes relaxation. And you will not do that in here." She gestures vaguely to indicate Central.
Clara returns the gesture with a grave nod and another reassuring smile. "This is why I was hired, madame. To care for such esteemed entities that participate in the activities of the Complex. Please, don't hesitate to return if there's further help that we can provide."
SECURITY> Riley shrugs vaguely and pushes the chair back a notch. Pushing on the desk with his hands he murmurs a vague sound of agreement. He manages to get to his feet, but not for long. Those knees obviously don't want to hold and he crumples to the floor, blacking out.
Briga smiles as she turns and carefully pads out...tail held behind her as /exactly/ a 90 degree angle.
Briga heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
SECURITY> Kyara yipes, dropping to her knees on the floor, a bit frantic. "Riley? Riley! Oh dear..."
Your communit crackles to life and blares "Clara? Clara! Something's wrong with Riley! He's out cold!" in Kyara's voice.
Clara is still for several long moments after the delegate leaves, then leans back against the bioscan unit, whooping with laughter and holding her ribs until her unit blares at her. She stares at it for a moment in horror, then darts into her office for her medkit and pelts out without a word.
You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
You head towards the Security Central.
Kyara glances up, gesturing helplessly toward the fallen Security Chief. "He just... fell over."
2FLOOR> Briga peers as she sees the doctor...hrmming to herself...curiosity killed the cat?
Riley is a crumpled sprawl, arms and legs at awkward angles. He's just lucky he didn't try to carry the coffee.
Clara tears in at top speed, a field sized medkit in her hand as she madly unbuttons her lab coat and drops to her knees. "Back up a little, please, Kyara?" she asks, zipping into emergency mode. "What was he doing when he went down?"
Kyara scrambles backwards on all fours by a foot or so. "Nothing! He was almost asleep when I came in here, and I told him to go relax, and he got up and crumpled."
Clara tears off her coat and folds it up, gingerly checking Riley's head and neck before nudging the coat underneath him as a pillow. "Damn it, Riley, don't you do this to me," she mutters, pulling the scanner back out and starting a slow run from his forehead to chest. "He blacked out when he stood up, then? How soon after he stood up?"
Kyara blinks. "Maybe two seconds?"
Riley's out cold and solid, exhausted beyond the point of responding to Clara's actions or admonitions.
Clara nods grimly at the information, following the scan by a rapid manual check of breathing and pulse before checking the readout with the faintest air of panic. Finally she sighs softly and closes her eyes, falling to a seated position by the Chief with one hand and scanner balanced on his chest. "I can't pick him up myself," she notes quietly, then reopens her eyes. "Could you run to medical and request an antigrav unit for me?"
Kyara nods, jumping to her feet and running out at top speed. Her size is an advantage in weaving through the crowd, despite the yelps that follow in her wake. Barely sixty seconds later she returns to drop back to the floor. "It's on its way. Is he going to be alright?"
Briga arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Briga comes padding in silently now. Ear tufts standing erect as she tries to be helpful.
Clara is unmoved, still staring down at the unconscious goofball. "Yeah, he's fine," she offers somewhat distractedly. "He will be at least." She reaches over to snap open the kit and rummage for a hypo, murmuring out of habit as she presses it to his neck, "Just nutrients, Riley. To keep you going until you can get real food."
Kyara frowns, her eyes intent on Riley to the point that she doesn't notice the delegate enter. "He's suffering from malnutrition? Does he eat /nothing/ but chocolate?"
Who needs real food? What's the old phrase? 'Administering chocolate may not be the answer to my problems, but it is a good start .' Or maybe, 'You are what you eat?' There's a -reason- Riley's hair is that color.
For Once, Bri doesn't demand attention...her whiskers quiver in curiosity and concern...and she simply looks to be helpful.
Clara glances back as an intern carries in a box about the size of a large housecat and accepts it with a grateful look. "Thanks, Vinkle. Go on back...I've got it under control." She nods briefly at Briga, then starts to calibrate a few readings on the box. "He's suffering from utter exhaustion. I -told- him to rest. And man cannot live on chocolate alone, no matter what runs through that fluffed head of his."
Kyara sighs. "I told him the same. He was actually going to do so when he collapsed. Which I suppose I should have taken as a bad sign right there."
Briga offers helpfully, 'Don't some nutrient bars come in chocolate?'
Clara glances briefly at Kyara for a moment, something flashing through her face of confusion. "What are you doing here?" she asks vaguely, then ducks her head again to connect a sensor to the Chief's arm before starting up the unit. "His couch is closest...and about the only thing long enough for him."
Kyara glances guiltily toward the chocolate bars on the desk. "Oh, I just stopped in to visit." A blink toward the furry delegate. "She's got a point there."
Clara takes a moment to snap her kit closed and strap it to her leg so to have her hands free for the unit, tapping in the command for lift and looking vaguely hopeful. "C'mon...work," she mutters at it, slowly getting to her feet. "If we can get those in him when he wakes up, I'll sing hallelujahs. Right now, I just want him someplace comfortable. Someone grab my coat?"
Kyara grabs for the coat, getting to her feet. She looks not one whit less anxious despite the doctor's assurances.
Two of them as a matter of fact as tufted ears swivel forth to listen carefully...A quick glance at Kyara as she waits.
Thankfully the thing -does- work, or moving Riley'd be a trick. Skinny he may be for his height, but he's still an awfully big guy.
Clara winces as the coat goes almost before Riley, then sighs with relief as the resounding thunk of a head hitting the ground doesn't sound. "Okay, nice and easy," she murmurs, guiding the unconscious form into his office.
Riley walks towards the Chief Addison's Office.
You walk towards the Chief Addison's Office.
Chief Addison's Office
This office is something of a haven from the chaos in security central. It only has one viewscreen, although there are controls to direct it to any of the observation lines. A large desk takes up the bulk of the room. It's a battered affair, and shows the signs of great age. It doesn't really fit in with the polished atmosphere of the Complex, but neither does the man it belongs to. Piles of paperwork, scattered datapads, and a lurking terminal take up the majority of the space on the desk, but somehow room has been found for several photocubes and a small plastic penguin. The floor is carpeted in institutional gray carpeting, and the walls are a slightly darker shade. It would be a dank hole of a room if it weren't for several large electronic maps on the wall, each aglow with various telltales and marker lights. In front of the desk are two uncomfortable chairs and one battered and exceedingly comfortable looking couch. A handful of bad noveldisks are piled at one end of the couch.
Kyara walks here from the Security Central.
Briga walks here from the Security Central.
Briga stalks in, trying to be unnoticed.
Clara continues to flicker her gaze from man to antigrav unit, finally getting him poised above the couch before tapping in the descend command and breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness." She sets the box down and moves to unfasten Riley's collar, mouth in a thin line. "Someone run to Medbay for a blanket? Please?"
Briga pops in with, 'I'll get it.' and flies out the door.
Riley doesn't so much as shift through the entire process, that would take effort, and he's beyond effort. This nice unconscious haze will do just nicely for now.
Kyara bites her lip, coming to a halt a few feet from the couch. "All my fault. I shouldn't've gone along with his whims."
MEDIC> Briga growls as she pounces in, 'Blanket, now, you fool' She tells the thunderstruck attendant. Finally she grabs one and pounces out
Briga pounces back in...blanket in hand...which is carefully handed to Clara.
Clara is busily, well, not undressing Riley, but the equivalent. Tug off the boots, loosen the collar. Doctorish things. She accepts the blanket with a distracted smile, then drops to her knees to tug off his weapons belt without a hint of embarrassment. "What whims, Kya? What did you do to him?" she snaps.
Ear tufts prick forward as Bri pads to a corner...hopefully forgotten.
Kyara shakes her head. "I knew he needed to rest. I should've insisted, or told you, or something."
Clara is silent as she climbs to her feet to shake out the blanket and cover up her patient. After a moment of thought, she goes to drag one of the awful chairs beside the couch and drop into it. "You did tell me. I'm here now, and I should have seen this coming," she replies vaguely. "Not your fault."
Kyara shakes her head in denial. "I knew last night. But I didn't think it was /this/ bad."
Briga absently moves to lightly stroke her tail...just watching with dark eyes.
Clara continues to simply watch Riley with a troubled expression. "It's not your fault," she repeats, then glances up. "I appreciate your help...both of you," she offers, holding out an arm to Kyara for her lab coat.
Kyara hands the coat over, dragging a chair over. Apparently she intends to watch over Riley like a hawk. More penance. "How long will he sleep?"
Briga blinks slowly...helpful...umm, well. Whiskers quiver a bit uncertainly..."Help?" She asked uncertainly.
Clara eyes the chair dragging after accepting the coat, a block of ice essentially filling her expression. "I can care for the patient on my own, thank you," she clips out in formal tones. "I do appreciate your help, delegates."
Kyara doesn't look like she's about to move. She does, however, note softly, "And when are /you/ going to rest, Clara?"
Briga peers at her tail, which she just so happened to be wringing...and drops it quickly, 'Well....I had better go and rest my tail...That's it...Doctor's orders, you know. Deadly disease...Might die." Yes Bri rambles...and out the door she pads...voice can be heard muttering to herself, 'Very sick...flat tail.'
Briga walks towards the Security Central.
Clara leans back in the chair she's already settled herself in, a perfectly bland expression on her face. "This won't be the first time I've sat with a patient. Assistance isn't required." Her expression softens then into a faint smile. "Go to sleep, Kya. I can take care of him."
Kyara peers after Briga for a puzzled moment, then shakes her head firmly. "I'm not here to assist. Well, maybe a little. And I won't be able to sleep anyhow." She cocks her head with a slight frown. "Why the insistence, Clara?"
There's a muttered groan and Riley makes a really top notch attempt at moving. No really, top notch... It's not the fault of the amount of -effort- he puts into it that he can barely get an elbow under himself, just on the amount of energy he has to expend. "..." <- Now -that's- dialogue.
Clara folds her arms, just as stubborn although with a hint of pained concern. "Why? Because..." Her words cut off at the sound, and she's leaned forward in her seat to check Riley carefully, back in professional mode. "Don't move, Riley. Go back to sleep," she murmurs.
Kyara bites her lip, staying quiet despite an obvious desire to do just the opposite.
Riley is more than game to follow this admonition. Never really even truly waking, he slumps back down into the cushions of the couch. Half on one side he snoozes quietly. No snoring, and he doesn't have pointy elbows either, unlike certain husbands down the hall attempting to summon moose herds.
Clara shoots a quick stare back, almost pleading. "Please, Kya? The conversation's waking him up. Go to bed...please?" she stagewhispers at the Stilvani woman before turning back to her patient and leaning forward, elbows on her knees, to keep watch. Fortunately she won't need firing range grade ear plugs.
Kyara opens her mouth to speak, only to clamp it firmly shut. She merely shakes her head mutely. See? She won't wake him up.
Clara is quiet for a moment, then frowns at not hearing the door. She finally turns back, a rather sorrowful expression in place. "Please don't make me make it an order," she murmurs sadly.
Kyara's mouth quirks. Pulling out a datareader, she taps in a few words and holds it up for the doctor to see- 'Not AF yet'.
Clara's jaw clenches as she finally rises to her full height, all expression gone as she pulls closer and drops her voice to an emphatic whisper. "No, but -he- is. And my patient. And -this- is AF space. You want to see the regs? Unless you can give me a damn good reason, I need you to leave. Now."
Kyara pales considerably, glancing toward Riley for a long moment. He could wake up at any time, but it's too long to type into her 'reader. She mutters to Clara, "Please,... lo... care... much. I'll... if... stay."
You sense Kyara pales considerably, glancing toward Riley for a long moment. He could wake up at any time, but it's too long to type into her 'reader. "Please, Clara, I lo... I care for him very much. I'll go if you insist, but I'd really like to stay."
Clara nearly rocks back as if slapped, jaw clenching. "I am insisting," she says simply after a moment, not looking back herself. "You can visit him when he wakes up. If he wants visitors."
Kyara slowly gets to her feet, nodding slightly. "If you think that's best for him," she murmurs. The Stilvani slips out only to return with a pot of coffee and a full mug, which she sets within reach of the medic. Giving the woman the tiniest hint of a smile, her gaze turns on Riley for a full minute, then she straightens proudly and leaves.
Kyara walks towards the Security Central.
Clara stares at the mug for a long moment, then exhales a slow breath as if deflating and nearly collapses back into the chair. "Oh, mister. What have I gotten into?" she murmurs at the sleeping man, then sighs and reaches for the mug.
Riley would probably make a snide comment, but he's dead to the world. He just remains slumped on the couch. If you didn't know better, he'd look markedly corpseish. Now -that's- a word.
Clara sips at the mug while watching the motionless form. Corpseish? Hey, good a word as any. Finally she sets it to one side and flips open the medkit at her leg to pull out a datareader and start typing into it silently, face frozen at whatever words are going there.
Dizz sleeps. Whoops, wrong repetitive posing scheme. Riley just errm, lays there. He doesn't tapdance or anything unexpected, I'd definitely let you know if that were happening.
Clara leans forward after a moment, pressing the back of her hand to Riley's forehead to check for any sort of temperature, then nods to herself stoically and pulls back. "Couldn't make life more difficult, could you?" she murmurs, although her tone is fond.
Riley could. He could drop dead. But then I'd have to write up a whole new character. And wouldn't that just be a pain and a half. As it is he just tugs one arm up over his head, brows starting to furrow.
And Clara would ICly have to fill out a whole slew of paperwork. That would be -bad-. She smiles faintly at the movement, then shakes her head and returns to typing in ... whatever it is she's typing.
Riley would probably -love- to know what she's typing. Well, if he knew she was typing. As it is he's just fending off the evil headache of doom that accompanies an OD on awakeness. He'd probably be -terribly- curious though.
Hmmm...he'll likely find out soon enough. "Respectfully, Major Clara E. Aleron," she whispers to herself, tapping in the final few sentences before glancing up again to check for movement.
Nope, no real movement. Riley's got one arm pulled over his head, tired looking chocolate curls sticking out at odd angles to either side of said arm. Otherwise he's just well...lying there.
Clara stretches back silently to set the reader on the edge of the desk, glancing back almost wistfully, then shaking her head. She'll get the proper form from her office later. She claims the mug as she turns back, taking up vigil again as she curls her legs up into the chair.
Okay, this is cruel and unusual punishment. Seeing as there's a great disturbance in The Force, like a single letter crying out... Ummm Obi-Wan-Riley? -There's- a mental image. Again. Mumbling something vague, Riley stirs again. -This- time he manages -both- elbows and blinks myopically at the couch beneath
Clara rapidly sets the mug back on the table and leans forward again, reaching out to attempt to push you back down, a small, worried smile in place. "Hey, you," she whispers. "Go back to sleep, huh? It's late." Letter? What letter?
"What in the..." Riley's words are heavily slurred, as if he's had a good bit too much to drink. "Why're'ya in m'office?" And why is -he- in his office? And how -did- the Falcons manage to get into the Superbowl?
Clara sighs and shakes her head slowly, reaching up to check for a temperature again. "You collapsed, Riley," she murmurs. "Out in security central. We brought you in here to rest," she explains quietly. The Falcons? What about the Broncos? *shudder*
Okay, there's a complicated series of steps involved to get from being on your chest and elbows to sitting up. Riley manages getting his legs to one side, and it's possible he can manage the twist, but it looks like old man gravity's not helping him out at all and he's literally shaking with the effort by the time he gets into the upright and tray tables locked position. "Sorry."
Clara makes a sound of utter frustration and leans down to tug the gunbelt out of the way of your feet before unfolding her legs and leaning forward to peer up at you intently. "You're forgiven. Now lay back down? Please? Don't make me force you, I'm serious." And she is. How could she not be, faced by the great Obi-Riley?
"Ya' sure, not gonna kill me?" Riley's lids are already drooping shut, despite his attempts to remain upright. "'Onalee'd have me shot, prolly."
"I'm not going to kill you," Clara replies with a wistful smile and headshake as she reaches forward in the attempt to push you back down by the shoulders. "I'm not Honalee," she adds ruefully.
Riley is excessively easy to push down, as #1 he doesn't resist, and #2 if he had it probably would have been easy anyhow. He half curls onto one side, "S'good, y'r much better'n she was. Not been any medbay disassers a'-all- since ya been here."
Clara twitches the blanket back into place before reclaiming her seat and nudging it forward again, lips quirking as she absently smoothes a few curls away from your face. "Yeah. Sure, Riley," she murmurs, utterly unconvinced. "Next Medchief'll be even better. Now sleep..."
For the barest hint of a moment Riley almost does go to sleep. He's tired after all. But what's that line, something about spider-sense? His eyes snap back open, okay, okay they open slowly in what really -wants- to be a definitive snap and he forces an elbow underneath himself again. "Next?"
Clara pulls her hand away sharply, blanching upon realizing her words and actions. "Sleep," she intones again. "We'll talk it over in the morning." Her tone is soothing, if somewhat dismayed. "No need to discuss it in the middle of the night, hey?"
Uh-uh, that wasn't even close to getting Riley off this new found track. Using his other arm to rub at his eyes he patently wills himself to be more awake. "It already -is- the morning, Clara." Stifling a yawn he affixes you with a rather intent, if excessively bleary, stare. "What'd you mean by 'next'?"
Clara glares stubbornly back for a long moment, then lets her gaze flash to the side at that fateful datareader again. "I meant simply that. Next. I'm requesting a transfer. -Now- will you sleep?" she asks imploringly. "Please? I'm not going to tranq you again."
Riley all but chokes on that one. Adrenalin is a wonderful thing. He's not managing upright, but he's managing basic thought processes. "Clara, you can't do that. Punishing the whole place because -I- didn't have enough sense? How can that be fair?"
Clara falls back into the chair, eyes widening at the sudden spurt of vehemence before she leans forward again, hands gripped on the arms of the chair. "Because I didn't think to take care of you," she shoots back quietly. "And about a half dozen other reasons of screwups I've made. -That's- fair."
Do you have any idea how hard it is to argue reasonably when you're lying on one side? Riley's finding out, because sitting up is just -not- in the cards. "Clara, I'm 'The Boss' remember? The C-word? -I'm- supposed to take care of me, and you're supposed to take care of everybody else. That's how they set it up in the rules. I just was stupid and abused it. Too busy reveling in new found freedom I guess. You're -damn- good at your job, I could never even begin to replace you."
Clara's brows lower over slightly narrowed eyes. "You're half out of it, and unable to even sit up. Right now, it's just Riley, and if you want to court martial me for insubordination, go for it," she grates out quietly. "I take care of -everyone-. That's what my job is. And it hasn't been happening. Hell, I just chased out someone who should be here right now. Is that what a doctor should do? I don't think so."
Riley is quiet a moment, and his reply is very quiet. "Clara, please don't go. I don't have a whole lot of friends, ya know? Too many folks don't think of me as anything but the position. I...Can I grovel? I'm good at groveling."
All fire draining away at that request, Clara inhales a soft sound of dismay, dropping her eyes. "Don't grovel...please? I don't think I could deal with that." She looks back up with a faint amount of something suppressed. "I just don't want anyone hurt because of me," she explains. "This is safer, really."
Okay, arm up, no up... No really, this is not a joke... Riley manages to get the arm up and out far enough to rest slightly shaking fingertips carefully on your knee. "You didn't do anything wrong. Please, Clara, you've fixed so much, gotten so much right... Please, don't hold my stupidity against the bulk of that. I was being a jerk, I knew you were scared of challenging me, and I abused that. I'm sorry, please?"
Clara freezes for a long moment at the words, and even more at the touch. Finally she unwraps one white-knuckled hand from the chair arm to rest over you fingers for a moment. "It's not your fault, Riley," she replies in a faintly shaken voice. "Don't even think that. I...this is my fault," she finally manages, then looks up seriously. "Kyara wanted to see you when you woke up. She wanted to stay, but I wouldn't let her. Shall I go get her?"
Letting the hand drop, Riley looks fairly distressed at your reaction. Pulling it back on to the couch he blinks a few times. "No. It -is- my fault. I -knew- better, but I pulled shift after shift anyhow. I -chose- to make an idiot out of myself, like a kid who drinks till he passes out because he can get away with it. And I was being no less childish. Stupidity is not the exclusive right of the young." He shakes his head slightly, "I hate to say it, but I don't altogether trust her. I'd rather be more coherent before dealing with her."
Clara pulls back at the same time, leaning back in the chair to regard you for a long moment of somewhat puzzled uncertainty as her hands rewrap at the arms of the chair tightly. "Trust her? But...I thought..." She glances at the door, nonplussed. "She begged to stay because she said she loves you." She peers back in confusion. "I assumed you're involved with her."
Riley's eyes widen several notches and he glances towards the door in a -very- paranoid fashion. He looks in fact flabbergasted, "But, but she's like -twelve- isn't she? Isn't that -illegal-?" Okay, that was -not- a polite response. But Riley's rather snonked, maybe he can be forgiven. "That would be a 'No' by the way, as to whether or not Kyara and I are involved. I uh..." He glances at you a moment and blinks, "Um...errr... I ... See cause..." Never mind, there's no way he's spitting this out. "We aren't."
"Twenty, or something like that," Clara offers somberly, still looking more than slightly bemused as she glances at the door again. "Twenty and as much of a combat veteran as I am," she muses, then shakes her head as if to clear it. "Because what?"
Riley shakes his head rather muzzily, "Just a kid... She is... Wait till she gets started trying to play the riddle game. S'a'kid's game." He looks excessively abashed at the latter question, easing into the cushions of the couch as if he could hide in them. "Um, I take the fifth."
Clara considers this for a long moment, watching you carefully with an unreadable expression in shadowed green eyes. "You should go back to sleep," she finally says softly. "Would you like me to go? You're stable now."
Riley looks excessively ashamed, "Um, that chair's not very comfortable. And late as it is I'm sure you're tired. Fat lot of good it does to knock yourself out cause I did." His tone is as carefully neutral as he can make it in this state. "Just don't leave for good.. Please, I just... I don't want to wake up and you be gone forever."
Clara ducks her head to think this over, then wordlessly reaches back for her datareader and holds it up to face you, the title 'Transfer Request' patently visible on the glowing face, then tilts it back around and hits the 'erase' key. She tucks it back in her medkit, then leans forward to adjust the blanket again for you. "Just you try to get rid of me," she murmurs, then ventures a somewhat sad smile. "I'll be in my office if you need anything," she explains, rising. "Goodnight, Riley."
Despite Riley's overall rather lost look, the keying of the erase button triggers a relieved, and entirely honest for once, smile. His eyes sagging shut he murmurs, "Night Clara. I just wish I could thank you enough."
"Hey...that's what I'm here for," Clara replies quietly, returning the smile with a fairly weary one of her own as she tugs her lab coat back on and stoops to scoop up the tangler belt and set it on the chair. "Your sidearm's here," she notes absently, then heads for the door, pausing once there and turning back, then closing her eyes for a moment before ducking out the door.
You walk towards the Security Central.
Clara waves off a few well-meaning requests as to the Chief's well-being. "He's sleeping. Let him sleep," she says as she comes up to one of the guards she knows, then turns and heads towards Medbay almost stiffly.