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MEDIC> Kramer glances up as the doors open, then has to pan down upon realizing the entrant is a little shorter than expected. "Afternoon there, young man. What can I do for you?"
MEDIC> G'ben stops a few feet short of the desk, the better to see Kramer over it. Hugging a book with a homemade paper bookcover, he pipes up. "Is Doctor Clara here?"
MEDIC> Kramer grins faintly, brows lifting at the book, and nods affably. "Hold on. Let me see if she's busy," he offers, then taps at the comm on his desk. "Doc? You have a gentleman caller." After a murmured reply from the comm, he nods. "G'on in, lad."
MEDIC> G'ben scoots around the desk with a grin and a happy "Thank you!"
G'ben here from the Medical Bay.
Clara swings her feet off her desk and snaps a small recorder off, a smile appearing at seeing just who the caller is. "Why, G'ben! How are you, dear? It's been some time since I've seen you."
G'ben bounds in cheerfully, coming around the desk to try and claim a hug. "I'm good! I'm in school, did ya know that? But I /ain't/ a wimp."
Clara laughs affably, setting down the recorder before claiming the hug warmly. She settles her hands on the boy's shoulders, grinning down at him. "I knew Roland had signed the papers, yes. And I do know you're not a wimp. Certainly no one would say that, would they?"
G'ben snorts, lifting his chin defiantly. "Idjits say lotsa stuff. And I ain't no dumb slaggie either, not any more. They don't say it any more either." At least, not within arm's reach. "Hey, can you help me with digestion?"
Clara waves at one of the chairs affably, then waggles a finger and shakes her head with a wry grin. "You go getting yourself kicked out of school for scrapping, and I'll cut off the chocolate supply, lad." She blinks owlishly at the last question, then nods slowly. "I can, yes...are you having a problem with your eating?"
G'ben snickers, climbing into a chair. "Principal told 'em they shouldn't have punched me if they didn't want to get hit back." He shakes his head to the question, putting the book on his lap to open it, and takes a slip of paper out from the pages. "Got a project. We're on digestion in science, and I gotta find out what... pe-ri-stal-sis is." He looks up to give you a confused look. "I looked it up in the dictionary in the library, but it didn't make any sense. Something 'bout al'mentary canals, whatever them is."
Clara rises to come around the desk and drop into the other visitor's chair, scooting it over so she can see the book. "Okay, let's start with peristalsis. First of all, when you take a bite of something, chew it up, and swallow it...what do you think happens?"
G'ben motions downward a bit. "Goes in my stomach."
Clara nods at that, then taps her own chest. "But how does it -get- there? You swallow, then -plop-, there it goes right into your tummy?"
G'ben blinks. "Um..." He looks down at himself, pressing his chin into his chest, then back at you. "No... goes down my throat?"
Clara traces the line of her trachea, explaining, "Behind this, the windpipe, is the esophagus. Essentially it's a tube running from your swallower to your stomach. Now, flex your arm for me."
G'ben brightens with comprehension. "Esophagus. Know that word." He pauses to snicker, bending an arm as requested.
Clara grins affably, reaching over to tap at the pre-adolescent bicep. "Okay, now, do you know how this is happening? This muscle here, your bicep is contracting and pulling your arm bent. That's how your muscles work, by tightening up and relaxing."
G'ben cocks his head, picturing that, and nods. "That's why the muscle looks big? Okay."
Not that it looks all /that/ big on /him/.
Clara tilts her hand from side to side, but nods. "Sort of. See, you have muscles all over your body. If your bones are what hold you up, then your muscles are what make everything move. So, now, hold your hand like this," she suggests, holding her hand out to form an 'O' with her fingers, almost making a tunnel with her hand.
G'ben holds up his hand as directed, peering through the 'O' of his fingers at you with an impish grin. "If bones hold ya up, how come you can lay down?"
Clara peeks right through her own hand back and grins. "They're still holding you up, though. You're not flat as a pancake, and neither am I. Your bones hold you out and up. Now, you've got a tube here. It's a pretty tight squeeze. What do you think happens if we stuff a whole bunch of food in it? How's it going to get through?"
G'ben takes a moment to think about that. "It gets through when ya swallow..." he ventures hesitantly.
Clara nods affirmingly, then drops her circled fingers enough so you can see her squeeze one finger, then the next, then on through all four fingers before repeating the process. "And to get the food through, it gets -squeezed- through. There are muscles surrounding the esophagus, just like my fingers here, that tighten up, or 'contract' to push the food on down."
G'ben 's eyes widen. "Ohhhh." Scorn flashes over his expression. "Remmy was wrong then. Adam's apple /don't/ jump up and down on the food."
Clara's grin widens considerably as she shrugs a bit, uncircling her fingers and waving that hand. "Oh, not -exactly-. Your Adam's apple doesn't even have to do with your digestive system. That's actually part of the respiratory system."
G'ben hmphs, scribbling a note of that. "Okay. Where's the periiiiistalsis part come in?"
Clara reforms the circle with her fingers, doing the methodical successive contractions of the fingers again. "Remember the muscles that push the food down? That whole process of what they're doing is called peristalsis." She pronounces the last word slowly for you.
The clue brick hits the boy almost with an audible thump. "Soooo peristalsis" Correctly if slowly pronounced "Is when food gets pushed down to your stomach?"
"Mmmm, not so much when as it is....well, it's the -how- food gets pushed down into your stomach." Clara tilts her head somewhat hopefully, almost uncertain. "Does that make sense?"
G'ben flashes a grin. "Yup! Like running is how ya get somewhere."
Clara snaps her fingers, a grin reappearing easily. "Exactly. And if muscles push your food down your esophagus, how do you think you can manage running? What makes it possible?"
G'ben 's eyes narrow in thought, then suddenly he grins smugly. "You said muscles make everything move, by contracting."
Clara's eyes brighten as she nods firmly, utterly delighted with the answer. "Excellent. This muscle right here," she explains, tapping the top of her thigh, "is called the quadricep. It's what lifts your leg essentially. Can you move that muscle just by trying?"
"Quadricep... bicep... is all ceps muscles?" G'ben blinks down at his leg, as if fearful it will betray him, but his knee jumps on command, and he nods. "Ayup."
"Nnnooo, not -all- of them," Clara allows thoughtfully. "But a lot of them are. For example, these muscles around your ribs? These're called the obliques.
Now...you know there's muscles pushing your food down. Do you think you can make those move just by thinking about it?"
G'ben doesn't appear at all confident about that. "Not without foo... chocolate?"
Clara doesn't even try not to laugh at that, rising to circle around and liberate a chocolate bar from her desk, then returning to the seat before offering it. "That's right. Not without food. That's the different between what we call 'voluntary' and 'involuntary' movement. Do you know what the word 'volunteer' means?"
G'ben beams, taking the candy politely. "Thanks!" Unrapping it and breaking off a square, he offers the piece to you. "Yeah. Volunteer is like when you say you'll do something without somebody pointing at you and saying 'do it'. It's a bad thing," he adds.
Clara leans an elbow on the front of her desk, eyes dancing. "Well, you've got the right idea. But it's not always bad, I promise. But thinking about what volunteer means, what kind of muscles do you think are 'voluntary' ones. The ones you can move on purpose, or the ones that move all by themselves? Remember, your muscles are -part- of you. Not separate, so it's not like telling another person to do something."
G'ben pops the chocolate into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Voluntary's something you do on your own... so it'd be the ones that move by themselves."
Clara wrinkles her nose, shaking her head slowly. "I tricked you. Nope, a voluntary muscle is one -you- can move. You volunteer to move it. The involuntary muscles do it all on their own. They don't care whether you volunteer them or not."
G'ben blinks, then giggles. "Okay. Sounds kinda backwards though."
Clara shrugs with one arm, grinning wryly as she nods. "Doesn't it? Don't ask me, I didn't make up the rules."
G'ben snickers. "More I learn, more rules there is."
Clara rolls her eyes and nods emphatically. "I won't even go into how much I got to read in college. But it was worth it...and a lot of fun. How is -your- schooling coming along, though? You look absolutely smashing, by the way. I like the uniform."
G'ben twitches at a pant leg, the expression on his face not at all complimentary. "I look like a nerd." But he looks up with a grin. "Teacher- Miz Greer- she said I know more'n she thought I would."
Clara shakes her head rather firmly, brows lifting. "You do -not- look like a nerd," she counters loftily. "Honestly now, girls -like- a man in uniform. You're positively dashing. I'll bet you have all sorts of surprised for Ms. Greer, don't you?"
G'ben acks, reaching up to unfasten the top couple buttons of his jacket. "/Girls/?!? Too many of them at /school/. Don't need 'em following me around when I ain't there." He snickers at the question though, a gleam in his eyes. "Yeah. Shoulda seen her face when I told her I could read."
Clara bursts into cheerful laughter as she leans back in the chair and shakes her head. "You're absolutely right. No reason to have girls traipsing after you in the slightest. But I can't imagine why she'd think -that-. You're what...eleven? Twelve?"
"Elev-" G'ben cuts himself off, lifting his chin proudly. "I'm twelve now." He shrugs. "She heard I lived Underground. Don't think she thinks too much of folks there."
Clara's eyes widen at this, jaw dropping slightly as she rises to circle around to her computer and tap into the school's medical records. "Why, G'ben! You just had a birthday, dear." She glances sidelong at the boy, a gleam coming to her eyes. "Did you get to do anything for it?"
G'ben straightens his shoulders with a grin. "Kya got me one of them little engine kits down at the toy shop. And clothes," he adds, not quite as enthusiastically. "And a book on... sailorship? How to sail. Lotsa rules there too."
Clara logs her computer off, nodding approvingly at each point. "Kya's a wonderful, wonderful person. And sailing's a wonderful thing to know. I've been sailing since I was a little girl. Now...tell me this, Mr. G'ben...have you been out to the park lately?"
G'ben 's eyebrows rise. "Couple days ago. Miz Greer took us out there for bein' extra good."
Clara's lips twitch as she moves to tug off her lab coat and hang it on the coatrack, neatly covering whatever recent fearful texts the dust puppy's been writing recently. "Ooooh, then I guess you've already seen the treehouse."
G'ben 's eyes widen. "Treehouse? What's a treehouse?" All sorts of neat images are going through his mind now, none involving peristalsis.
Faint laugh lines appear at the corners of Clara's eyes as she tugs her cap off the coatrack along with her yellow bomber. "Tell you what. You run home and get out of those spiffy duds and into play clothes, and I'll show you."
G'ben nods and jumps up eagerly, pelting for the door. She did say 'run' after all. "Okay!"
[Out to the 2nd floor elevator lobby]
G'ben here from the Spiraling Stairway.
Clara is leaning against a wall by the stairway, absently adjusting the rank pin on her cap before tugging it back on and grinning. "Navy. Hmpf. Oh, I suppose I can be seen with you in public," she says with mock resignedness. "Ready?"
G'ben snickers. "Navy /rules/." He nods, ducking. "Yup, I'm ready."
Clara snorts and reaches out a hand to muss the poor lad's hair, snickering. "Spacejockies," she mutters, although there's a hint of fondness in the disparagement. "C'mon, kiddo of evil."
[Travel to Java Quarter snipped]
Aliana nods her head quickly, "Hopefully she will have learned better." From her tone, Ali might sprout wings before that actually happens.
Clara splutters an affable laugh, peering up at the sky. "Did you do this?" she asks of G'ben, brushing a few of the raindrops uselessly from her cap before waving cheerfully at the flying couple.
Rhys and Aliana are holding hands, heading for the Bar and Grill. He grins, returning Clara's wave
G'ben acks softly, glaring up into the sky. "Not me this time."
Aliana glances over and calls out a cheery greeting, 'Afternoon Clara! G'ben!'
Clara wrinkles her nose cheerfully down at the boy. "No worries. It's a warm rain, and there's a roof where we're going," she promises, then calls over to Ali, "Where?!"
G'ben nods, brightening to give Aliana a wild wave. "Makes sense. Houses got roofs."
Aliana does a doubletake before she giggles softly, 'G'ben...Where is Clara?' She turns to Rhys, 'G'ben is the gentlemen caller I was telling you about a while about...Roland and Kyara's fosterling."
"Heeey," Clara protests with a laugh. "I though you were -my- gentleman caller, G'ben?" she asks.
Rhys laughs softly. "You'll just have to share him, ladies. Play nicely."
G'ben rolls his eyes, snickering. "Can't tell ya. She's playing hooky." He turns blue eyes on Rhys, then more snickering ensues at Clara. "Can I tell Admiral Addison that?"
Aliana pouts, "Bu..But, we weren't taught sharing in our school."
Clara acks theatrically, shaking her head with overdone vehemence and waving her hands. "No telling the Admiral, nopenope. C'mon, kid. I'll bribe you with the treehouse," she promises, giving the others a wave. "I promised him a trip to see it," she explains.
Rhys grins, and squeezes her hand. "From my perspective, /good/." He waves again to Clara and G'ben. "You two have fun!"
Aliana smiles, 'Have fun!' She calls out before grinning at Rhys.
G'ben's eyes gleam as he dissolves into giggles.
Clara tugs G'ben off, still making quiet acking noises of dismay and mock-terror, muttering under her breath about being demoted to a private.
You walk towards the Hill Overlooking the Quarter.
Clara trudges up the hill towards a massive tree, bits of brightly colored planking visible through the damp foliage, grinning. "A friend of mine made this," she explains. "Wait till you see the inside..."
G'ben glances upwards, and stumbles over the next few steps. "Oh wow... a house /in/ a tree?"
Clara puts out a hand to steady the stumbling, grin brightening several notches. "That's what a treehouse is, yes. You've never heard of one?"
G'ben shakes his head, eyes wide. "Ain't got trees in the Underground," he notes absently.
Clara ahs softly, a flash of almost sadness shadowing her eyes for a moment as she nods, then brightens again, resting a hand on the ladder. "Ever climbed a ladder before, then?"
G'ben gives an immediate nod. "Ayup. Best way to get on roofs- climb the fire escapes. They got ladders."
Clara sweeps her arm in a panorama up the stairs, gesturing up with her chin. "Okay, then. Up you go. I'll be right behind you, so no worries about falling." Of course, if he does, it'll likely break Clara. Then Niko will laugh.
He'll point, that's for sure.
G'ben swarms up the ladder with an ease born of much practice. "I never fall!" he calls down.
G'ben climbs the board ladder up to the treehouse.
You climb the board ladder up to the treehouse.
Corian is seated against the paisley wall, with a pair of Sectassian children--obviously siblings. The three year-old, Xalin, is happily ensconced in her lap. The seven year-old, Tirisa, is doing her best to fit into the lap as well. It seems like a story is being told, but the one with which the children are familiar, as they're having quite a lot of fun finishing Corian's sentences when she pauses. Of course, as the story is being told in Sectassian, there's a lot of s's. There's also a lot of giggling--from the children, at least. Corian's too grown-up to giggle. Really.
G'ben stops short with a blink at the top of the stairs. "Doctor Clara? There's people here..."
Clara scrambles up the ladder just as deftly as G'ben, perhaps as much of a tomboy as she is a lady, and pausing on the ladder with her top half inside the house. "You're right," she murmurs back, absolutely sheepish. "Okay, we'll come back another day," she offers quietly, and starts to back down the ladder again.
Of course, Tirisa picks that moment to look up. "Hi, Doctor Clara," she calls cheerfully. "Auntie Corian's telling us a story, come hear it!"
And, naturally, that catches Corian's attention. After a murmur in Sectassian to Xalin, Corian calls, "There is certainly plenty of treehouse--and plenty of story as well. There is no need to go back to the rain."
G'ben slowly moves further into the treehouse, giving the kidlings a dubious look, but he's soon distracted by his surroundings.
Copper curls pause in their decent before rising again to reveal the rest of the doctor's face, a warm smile on it. "Hello, Tirisa, dear. Hi, Xalin," she adds, wiggling her fingers at the small boy. "You're sure you don't mind, Corian? G'ben's never seen a tree house before," she explains, gesturing at the enthralled older boy.
Corian shakes her head. "Of course I do not mind. After all, Tarrant built this so that younglings could enjoy it--no matter what their age. And it is nice to meet you, G'ben," she adds."
Tirisa clambers from her section of the lap, moving over to G'ben's side. "Isn't it neat?" she gushes. "Uncle Terry built it. It's just like the ones back home, everybody says so." Never mind that she's never been to Sectas. And Xalin returns Clara's wave, albeit just a little grouchily. He's not too keen on sharing.
G'ben stares down at Tirisa. "Yer uncle built this place? Yeah, it's... neat. It's /more/ 'n neat!"
Clara finishes entering the treehouse, brows scooting up at the greeting before she winces with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Corian, this is G'ben, Kyara and Roland's fosterling and a friend. G'ben?' she calls over to the lad, rather beaming at his evaluation. "G'ben, this is..." She pauses, uncertain just how to introduce Corian.
Tirisa nods cheerfully. "He's not -really- my uncle," she confides. "But he's Auntie Corian's husband. Only she's not really my aunt, she's my mama's friend." Xalin pouts--that is, until Corian murmurs something, fingers nudging gently at his ribs, and he giggles, scooting after his sister.
Corian supplies, "Corian Czolgosz--though I do think you can leave off the last name, it is something of a mouthful." She looks rather pleased with his evaluation as well, adding, "And I will pass on your words to my husband. He will be most pleased. He was uncertain of the reception the treehouse would get."
G'ben looks over his shoulder to Clara, his eyes then flicking curiously to take in Corian. "Czolgosz," he states precisely. "But Corian's pretty. The name, I mean. Not th... er, the name's pretty."
Clara reaches out to get in a tickle on the small boy as he passes as well, snickering cheerfully before leaning back against the paisley wall, grinning broadly. "Watch it, Corian. He's a mastermind lady's man," she explains with a teasing wink at G'ben.
Xalin darts away from being tickled, hiding behind Tirisa. Of course, she tickles him, too. He doesn't stand a chance. Finally, he seeks refuge behind G'ben, a fellow male, who -surely- won't tickle him.
Corian looks rather pleased by the compliment, though she flickers a quick smile to Clara at the doctor's words. "I will be careful," she assures Clara, before smiling pleasantly at G'ben. "Thank you, chernubia. It is sweet of you to say so."
G'ben doesn't tickle, nope, though he gives the boy a wary look. "Chernubia?" He pauses, frowning slightly. "Like a cherub?" The boy adds in a mutter to Clara, "Am /not/."
Clara winks over at Tirisa as she folds her legs to drop to sit tailor fashion on the flooring, vastly amused by all of this. "Okay, Tirisa can be a cherub. You can be a little Navy devil," she offers to G'ben.
Xalin waves, and offers a comment in Sectassian. Tirisa pipes up, "He says hi. He doesn't like talking Standard. Mama says it's a phase." She grins brightly at Clara. "Can I have wings, and something to shoot at people?" Oh, dear. Her mother's going to be thrilled.
Corian shakes her head to G'ben, with a quick smile. "It is not quite like cherub, no. Chernubia--it is literally a confection, but in this case it is an endearment. Though I suppose it would be an appropriate thing to -call- a cherub."
G'ben blinks at Terisa- his head's on a swivel today. "Uh, hi back. Chernubia. They got that at the bakery?" The question is directed both toward Corian and Clara.
"Oh, sure," Clara offers to the girl, nodding amiably. "We'll fix you up with some wings from cotton batting or something. Just -don't- try to fly with them," she emphasizes with a grin. "Don't look at me," she adds to G'ben with a grin. "You'd have to ask either Corian or the Admiral."
Tirisa looks just a little disappointed. Apparently, flying was what she had in mind. "And Xalin can be a cherub, too. Only we won't throw him out of the tree."
Corian looks just a bit disturbed that Tirisa has to make such a clarification, but shakes her head to G'ben. "I am afraid they do not, no. It is possible to have some sent, though, if you would like to try it. My great-grandmother," she adds, with a hint of humor, "Is very good at speedy shipping."
G'ben 's eyes sparkle. He's always up for new kinds of sweets. "That would be very nice, thank you," he says politely, then snickers, grinning up at Clara. "Navy devils get all the best treats."
Clara would likely have turned terribly red had any male -but- G'ben said that, but instead nods affably. "Isn't it unfair? I mean, the Admiral gets fudge from my family, even." She casts a briefly amused look at Corian, eyes dancing. "Xalin can be a cherub too, but throwing your brother out of a tree is right out, my dear," she adds to Tirisa.
Corian nods her agreement to the Navy devil related words, innocent enough that she doesn't catch said double entendre. "Are you going to be in the Navy when you get a bit older, G'ben?" she inquires. "It would certainly be a laudable goal." She eyes Tirisa for a moment, murmuring something that definitely has the word 'mother' in there.
Tirisa sighs. She's so abused. "-I'm- not the one who was playing catch with him. At least it was in the swimming pool."
G'ben pulls himself up to his full height. "I'm gonna be a Navy engineer! Almost sorta like Chief Addison!" Dang, he's proud of that. "Ohhhh. So that's where he got the fudge. It's /good/ fudge."
Clara makes a soft acking sound, shaking her head, the bill of her cap almost blurring in her vehemence. "Playing catch with baby brother's is a bad thing, yes." She leans back against the wall to regard the various kidlets with delight, nodding. "Mm-hmm. Maybe I'm biased, but I think Addison's a pretty good role model, don't you, Corian?"
Tirisa shakes her head. "The baby's not born yet," she explains patiently. "Doctor Clara, you should know -that-. Mama would have a lap if the baby had been born." Xalin sneaks back to Corian's lap, apparently aware that Xalin-tossing is being discussed.
Corian kisses the top of the small boy's head, murmuring something, then smiles cheerfully at G'ben. "Certainly laudable, yes." She chuckles very quietly. "I think my brother is an excellent role model--or he would be if he worked a bit less--but I am hardly any less biased."
G'ben casts a glance toward the children, his eyes following Xalin. "Easy catch," he murmurs, then raises his chin. "Role model?"
Clara thunks the side of her head with the heel of her hand at Tirisa's reminder. "Aaah, of course. How silly of me. Be a little difficult to play catch with that particular baby, yes. Never fear, dear. Your mama will have a lap soon enough." She nods to G'ben affably. "Of course, dear. Someone you want to be like someday. Well, somewhat. It's never good to be -just- like someone."
Corian nods her agreement to Clara's words. She starts to say something, but her comm beeps at her, and a delighted smile crosses her face. Actually, 'delighted' is an understatement. She gets to her feet, scooping up Xalin as she does so, and setting him on his feet. "Come on, children, time to go." She adds, with a glance towards Clara, "He's -home-."
Clara's gaze lifts to the Edreeni woman, eyes lighting up with cheer. "Oh, Corian, that's -wonderful-," she offers warmly. Do give him my greetings, will you? Children, have a good evening," she offers to the Sectassian kidlets.
G'ben ohhhhs. "Can't be just like him," he notes, then blinks at Corian. "Have a good day?"
Corian casts a dazzlingly happy smile towards G'ben as she herds the children towards the ladder. "I am certain that I will, dear. And it was nice to meet you." She nods to Clara, looking, well, thrilled. "I will certainly do so."
Corian climbs down the ladder to the ground.
Clara watches the trio leave with a warm smile, then gestures about the house, eyes dancing. "Well? Does it meet with monsieur's approval?"
G'ben pauses. "Monsieur?" He does glance around though, nodding in satisfaction. "You could read up here, when it's so quiet."
"Sorry. It's French for 'mister' or 'sir'," Clara offers with a grin, climbing to her feet to peer out the railing at the rain with approval. "You most certainly could read up here, though. Or think, or snooze, or whatever. It's -almost- as good as sailing."
G'ben rolls his eyes at the translation, then looks up at you curiously. "What's sailing like? I been reading all about it, cause Niko said when he gets a boat, he'll take me sailing."
Clara stretches out a hand to catch some of the water, inhaling a deeply pleased sigh. "That's where he's at right now, actually, is sailing. He and his wife are out on mine and Addison's boat. It's...oh, it's the most wonderful feeling of freedom. The wind whipping by you, no one around, the sound of the sails. I'd have joined the navy if it were still water based."
G'ben boggles. "You /would/? It's that good? Or is infantry really that bad?" He grins, preparing to duck.
Clara doesn't thwap, but she does try for a hair ruffling, laughing. "Hey, I -like- the Infantry. It's not so hot when someone's charging you with blasters a'blazing, but most of the time it's the best. No, sailing's just honestly that great."
Oh, hair ruffling is okay, even if G'ben does ack a little. "Yep, definitely gotta do sailing. Does Chief Addison like sailing? Oh, I guess he does, huh, if he's got a boat with ya."
Clara leans her elbows on the railing, peering out into the rain with a fond smile. "I'll tell you a secret. The Chief's from a high-tech world just like Mrs. Czolgosz, which I guess makes sense. But he'd never been sailing before I took him, really. I think he liked it though," she adds with just the barest hint of smugness.
G'ben ohs softly, thinking about that. "Was there fudge?"
Clara thinks this over, somewhat nonplussed by the question. "Honestly, I don't think there was. I can't say that I remember. I know I had them stock the galley with chocolate bars, though."
G'ben nods firmly. "Musta been the sailing he liked then."
Clara half grins down at you, nodding. "Must've been, yes. Ever seen the ocean, G'ben?"
G'ben cocks his head to look up at you. "You're kidding, right?"
Clara's brows lift at the question as she shakes her head slowly. Understanding she may be, but she's still the product of an insanely privileged background. "Of course, I'm serious."
G'ben just shakes his head, looking out at the rain. "Naw. Never been anywhere but here and Scully's."
Clara drapes a...well, perhaps not maternal, but maybe more aunt-like arm over your shoulders and squeezes comfortingly. "You'll get to see the ocean, lad. And the mountains...the stars, for that matter. Scully's?"
Grandmotherly! *grin/duck*
*poke*
G'ben nods, not really looking like he needs comforting. Not that he minds the arm, certainly. "Scully's Planet. You can get /anything/ there."
Clara perhaps needs to feel comforting at times, but blinks down almost alarmed. "You were on Scully's -Planet-? Good heavens, dear, who in all the names of green grommets too you there?"
G'ben blinks, cringing a little. "Tara? It was fun..."
Clara's eyes close for a moment as she exhales a quiet, calming sigh. The woman is far away. Clara can't strangle her right now. (Hi, irony!) She refolds her arms on the balcony and utters a soft laugh. "Okay, well, there's -other- places to go, too. Would you like to go out on the Peregrine?"
G'ben uncringes, looking relieved. "Peregrine?"
Clara doesn't look away from the fogged distance, but grins. "Mm-hmm. My boat."
G'ben ohs! "Yeah! Could I? Sometime? I won't break anything, I promise!"
Clara can't help but laugh, pleased. "Of course you can, dear. Sometime during your next school break, perhaps. We can pack up Addison too and drag him out. Can you swim?"
G'ben 's eyes widen. This just keeps getting better. "Yep! Learned, in the pool. Learned how to cannonball too," he grins.
Clara acks, snickering as she shakes her head. "I think I may fear and hide. Don't you cannonball the Admiral, you hear? That's -my- job," she adds with faux loftiness.
G'ben snickers. "We could double team him."
Clara smirks, shaking her head and dropping to a stagewhisper. "Nah, we can't. He doesn't swim very well. You just have to promise not to tell anyone."
G'ben blinks. He glances around, and whispers back, "That's okay. I don't swim very well either."
Clara's smile softens as she offers, "Then I won't dunk either of you. I've been swimming for...oh, about twenty-five years now."
G'ben 's eyes widen again. "Oh wow. You're /old/."
Clara nods affably, completely unruffled by the exclamation. "I am indeed. I'm all of twenty-eight. The Admiral's -really- old, though," she adds with a quirk of grin.
G'ben says, "Ooooh. Yeah, that makes sense. He's got gray hair and all. How old is 'e?"
Clara snickers faintly. Poor Riley. "He's thirty-seven, actually. Really, neither of us are all that old, dear. For example, Corian mentioned her great-grandmother? She's nearly three-hundred."
G'ben just boggles. "Three /hundred/? /Years/?"
"Years, yes," Clara confirms, chuckling. "It's all right, dear. Dr. Honalee is a full Edreeni. They're -supposed- to live that long."
G'ben lets out a low soft whistle. "Then Miz Czolgosz is gonna live a long time too? Or is she old already?"
Clara grins faintly, shrugging although she nods. "Actually, I imagine she will. She's over half Edreeni herself. I'll wager the Admiral got one heck of a lifespan, too. The longevity runs strong in that genetic mix."
From the ground, Tarrant walks here from the Java Quarter.
From the ground, Tarrant has arrived.
G'ben frowns slightly. "He's gonna live longer 'n you?"
Clara shrugs, not particularly concerned, it seems. "Perhaps. I tend not to worry about it. I'm too busy telling my body to remember to do its peristalsis," she adds, teasing.
G'ben snickers. "Ain't gotta. It's /in/voluntary. Drafted."
Clara's brows lift as she peers out through the rain misted sky down at the park below, snickering. "Oh, yeah. I forgot," she says sheepishly, trying to puzzle out who the figure in the distance is.
G'ben 's gaze follows yours curiously. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
Clara shakes her head slightly, shrugging dismissively with a faint grin. "Nothing, I guess. I thought I saw something, but maybe not. Maybe I'm just getting old and my sight's giving out," she adds with over-innocence.
G'ben nods seriously. "You should get your eyes checked."
Clara can't help but laugh at that, waving a hand. "I -do-, every time I get a physical." Just don't ask her how often that is. "I can see just fine."
From the ground, Tarrant is a Stealth-Tarrant? Not exactly, but he is wearing an ankle-length oilskin jacket, so maybe he's sneaky. Wending his way up the hill he half-ambles beneath the tree, pauses upon realizing it's occupied, and ambles onwards.
G'ben ohs! Then grins. "Good. Gotta see good to take care of folks, don't..." He trails off to peer over the railing. "Ooooh. I want one o' them!"
Clara half leans over the railing now, heedless of the rain, to peer downwards at the glimpse of movement. "I -thought- I saw someone. Tarrant!" she calls with a broadening smile.
From the ground, Hearing his name, Tarrant pulls up short to peer up through said rain at the treehouse. Smiling he offers a wave, "Evening Miz Clara, is it a pleasant one?"
That name clicks, and G'ben peers to take a closer look at the man. "That's the guy who built this place?"
Clara glances over at G'ben with a grin and nods. "Corian's husband, yes," she affirms, then calls down, "It is, certainly." A shadow of something crosses her face before the bright smile is back. "I brought a friend to admire your handiwork."
From the ground, Tarrant shakes his head briefly, shedding some of the rain from his hair. "Well, I had help, but I did the bulk of the painting at least. I do hope however that you approve."
And there's the final connection. "Oh!" G'ben grins down. "It's a good treehouse, Mr. Czolgosz!"
Clara grins at G'ben's assessment, and adds down to the rain-besmattered man, "I know you're probably getting chilled down there. Why don't you come up and join us, if you like?" she offers.
From the ground, Tarrant can't help but grin at G'ben, doffing his non-existent hat with a grin. "If you approve then, it is a work well done." He looks rather sheepish and nods to Clara, "If you don't mind? As wonderful as this jacket is Corian gave me against such weather, it is still cooler than I'd prefer. Especially after several days on an ice sheet."
G'ben waves wildly in a 'beckoning gesture. "C'mon up!" Turning to face the ladder a bit, he whispers to Clara, "What's a ice sheet?"
"An -ice- sheet?" Clara squawks, dismayed. "Get -up- here, Tarrant I'd-abuse-your-middle-name-if-I-could-remember-it Czolgosz! Good heavens," she splutters, laughing and drawing ack into the house. "I haven't a clue," she whispers back. "But it sounds -cold-."
G'ben nods to Clara, and turns to face Tarrant squarely, asking /him/, "What's a ice sheet?"
"Wilkes," Tarrant supplies with an amused chuckle as he climbs up the ladder, sliding to a seat on the decking under the relative shelter of the massive branches. "It was not my idea, I can assure you with all sincerity. Still, it was an adventure, part of my ever lasting quest to be a hobbit." He grins at G'ben, looking rather rueful as he gestures expansively. "In this case, a planet where the temperatures never get high enough above freezing to let the ice melt, so all the land is a big piece of ice."
Clara shudders vaguely, stepping back into the shelter more to drop to a seat against the paisley wall again. "Evil and horrid place. Warmth is good. But where's Corian? She'd said she was going home to see you..."
G'ben 's eyes widen. "Why'd ya go /there/?" He doesn't look any happier than Clara at the notion.
Tarrant's brows knit slightly, "Perhaps the Jansites once again caught her before allowing her home. She was not present when I arrived. I am afraid I still feel somewhat awkward in her quarters when she is not present, as if I am intruding." He grins at G'ben, "Because the people I work for wanted me to do some things there, and because I am nothing if not an idiot on occasion, I went along as they wished. I did not think to ask about the climate."
Clara just shakes her head with tolerant amusement at Tarrant. "I know the feeling," she murmurs. "You'll get used to it, I promise," she offers quietly, then notes to G'ben gently, "You have Mr. Czolgosz at a disadvantage, dear. You know who he is...but he doesn't know who you are."
G'ben gestures vaguely. "She had kids with 'er. Little ones." Comprehension dawns. "Ohhhh. Bet you'll ask next time." Blinking up at Clara, he looks a little embarrassed. "G'ben. Just G'ben."
Tarrant regards Clara in some amusement, "I'd really rather -not- get used to it though. To be honest, -this- planet is too cold. Couldn't they sprinkle a couple more deserts around just to liven the place up a bit?" He nods to G'ben, "Nice to meet you G'ben. Despite what evils they may have said, my name's just Tarrant. Mr. Czolgosz makes me feel old, and start thinking I should fill out tax forms all day or something."
"I'll get Riley to import a few next time I see him," Clara promises Tarrant with a laugh that turns into blatant snickering at the final assessment. "Egads, not tax forms!"
A toe scuffles along the floor, and it seems to attract G'ben's gaze. "Tarrant. Not Mr. Czolgosz." Dang, and he was proud of being able to pronounce it too. "What's evil about him, Doctor Clara?"
Tarrant settles the collar of his oversized coat closer, and tucks his legs tailor-fashion. "I would appreciate that if you could. Although Corian would likely be less than pleased. She's partial to jumping in puddles, so I guess we'd best not import sand. I would not wish her unhappy."
Clara almost splutters at the question. What's evil about Tarrant? Let me count the ways? "Nothing, dear. Tarrant's a very, very nice man and a friend of mine." She glances up at Tarrant, smile turning understanding. "I doubt you -could- make her unhappy, my friend. She missed you while you were gone."
G'ben nods, only looking a little puzzled as he looks back up. Eyes roll. Grownup talk. He wanders away a few feet to gaze at the park.
"I am too evil," Tarrant attempts to explain. "I'm terrible about doing what I'm told, and quite regularly late for dinner, and we won't even mention that I don't comm my mother enough, as I promise she mentions it enough for all the rest of us." He sighs in that softly lovelorn fashion. "I do try not to. Though I feel terrible for having had to leave twice after our wedding."
"I'm sorry, G'ben," Clara calls over, vastly amused. "I promise not to talk about more mushy stuff." She glances back to Tarrant, smirking and shaking her head. "G'ben I think rather appropriately avoids girls. I rather think he's a smart lad for that."
G'ben turns back with a grin. "Can't catch cooties if ya don't catch the girls."
"Avoiding girls isn't -always- good," Tarrant replies in an amused fashion. "But it is certainly a matter of taste. Cooties after all, are to be avoided." He tugs the jacket collar up again, maybe to fend off cootie rays or something.
"-I- don't have cooties," Clara explains rather loftily, tossing her be-capped head. "At least...I don't -think- I do?" She shrugs with a chuckle. "Or am I too old to have them, G'ben?"
G'ben knew that neat jacket was good for something. He peers at Tarrant. "When's it good to be with 'em?" He starts to shake his head at Clara's question, then nods. "Yeah. Way too old."
Tarrant shifts back enough to lean against the deck's rail. "When? Ah, see when they grow up and loose the cooties. And stop throwing large pointy objects. Then there's all -kinds- of reasons to follow them around. See, when you get old enough, your brain has this weird melt-down thing, and all of a sudden you realize girls are a lot of fun. Then, if you find a particularly nice girl, you start sighing a lot, and randomly walking into large objects, and doing other equally less than endearing things. This usually means you're in love. Or you have a brain tumor. It's nice when you know a doctor who can confirm the difference for you."
G'ben 's eyes just get bigger and bigger. "You got a shot or something that can make all that go away?," he mumbles to Clara.
Tarrant's communit crackles to life and says "... times when I think... to... speech. I should... the dear... stop talking!... you?" in Corian's voice.
Clara is dissolved into laughter by the time Tarrant is done with his explanation, forehead dropped into one hand with the elbow balanced on a pulled in knee. "Is that it?" she manages amidst the helpless snickering. "Those cases must all go to Jones." She shakes her head at G'ben with a particularly broad smile. "Nope. And what's worse, is when you got it bad, you don't -want- to be cured." She glances up at the comm's cracking, grin widening a bit.
Speaking of brain tumors, from the rather goofy look on Tarrant's face as his comm goes off, he must have several. "Cure? Who needs a cure. I'm quite pleased with the state of the world as it is. Pardon me if you would? It has been lovely to see you, Clara, and a pleasure to meet you G'ben."
G'ben shudders. "No girls. Ever." He glances up at Tarrant, nodding after a moment with a tiny grin. "Nice ta meet you too, Misssssssstarrant."
Clara doesn't comment on G'ben's vow, but does give Tarrant a warm smile. "Shoo. Go home to your wife and get out of this rain. Welcome back, Tarrant," she adds.
"Funny, that -almost- sounded like Miscreant, in which case you'd have been quite correct I'm afraid." Stifling a spate of coughing, Tarrant clambers to his feet and clambers over the railing to drop lightly from a lower tree limb to the ground. "A nice day to you both."
Tarrant climbs down the ladder to the ground.
Clara rolls her eyes and doesn't stand, but does call out loud enough to be heard, "Tarrant, come see me later so I can check out that cough!"
G'ben moves forward a few steps to peer down after Tarrant, asking Clara absently, "What's a miscreant?"
From the ground, Tarrant says "*chuckle* I am on my way back. And I am all in one piece, if peeved with the general conditions of weather." There's a pause and a called, "Awww, but Mo-om," and a snicker. "Still, I am back, and pleased to be so." into his communit.
From the ground, Tarrant walks towards the Java Quarter.
Clara chuckles and slowly climbs to her own feet as well to come and peer over the railing as well. "Someone who doesn't always follow the rules," she explains. "You ready to head back as well? It's probably time for you to grab some dinner, hmm?" she suggests with a grin.
G'ben somehow doesn't look surprised at the definition. Giving one last look around, he nods. "Yeah, I prolly should. And I gotta finish my homework." Yes, he's still carrying that darn book.
Clara nods in approving agreement. "You probably should indeed," she agrees, starting for the ladder. "And I'd like to be home i-...when Addison comes home tonight," she decides before rapidly making her way down the ladder.
You climb down the board ladder to the ground.
Clara tugs her jacket straight, smile reappearing amiably enough. "Oh, probably because it's been a busy few days. We haven't seen each other much. C'mon now, lets get back. It's gotten chilly out here."
G'ben blinks, but nods agreeably. "Okie dokie."
[Travel to 2nd floor elevator lobby snipped]
Clara reaches down to ruffle your hair a final time and grin. "Thank you for the company sir. Good luck with your homew-..." She lets it trail off with a laugh, then...heads back to her office? She does indeed.