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Corian, for a miracle, doesn't have a small child in her lap. Also odd, she's not engrossed in work. Her terminal doesn't like that, and beeps at her every few moments. (Her terminal is very possessive, doesn't like to be ignored. Kind of like small Sectassians.) She looks decidedly tired, and maybe a bit pale, as well. Spotting you as you go past 'her' chair, however, she offers a smile and a murmured, "Good afternoon."
Clara lets herself out of the doors to the AF offices, a datareader clutched in one hand and a look on her face that plainly says she isn't sure whether to laugh or scream in irritation. She stalks through the hall, then pauses at the greeting from a familiar voice and does a rather neat 'to the rear - halt' and smiling warmly. "Corian, good afternoon. How...are you today?" Her tone swings up, concern filtering into her gaze.
Corian's smile turns faintly amused. "Ah, it is that obvious? I believe I have picked up something. I thought it would go away, but it seems it has other plans." She shakes her head, murmuring, "Most inconvenient."
Clara tucks the datareader into one of the voluminous pockets of her labcoat and nods with a rueful smile. "I'm afraid it is to me at least, although I'll admit it's my job to notice when people don't feel well. Tell you what...come on up to Medbay with me, I'll give you a checkup. Maybe we can grab lunch afterwards."
Corian nods agreeably to that. She starts to shut down her portable terminal, complete with a multitude of protesting chimes. "You have too much personality," she informs the machine quietly. Getting to her feet, she says, "I would be most glad to take you up on the first offer, though I do not believe I would like lunch, thank you." And, if anything the prospect of food makes her look a bit ill.
Clara smirks vaguely at the computer, shaking her head. "Aren't they obnoxious? I tell the computer in my office what I think of it on a regular basis. Keeps it humble." Her brows furrow in sudden worry as she reaches her fingertips towards your arm. "Intermittent nausea? Come on...let's go check you out. Maybe just some tea, then."
Corian, with a wan smile, says, "It is my own fault that my computer is this obnoxious. I had him programmed to be so, though I did not know he would take on such personality." She nods at the question, with a grateful smile. "Tea sounds better, yes, and finding out what the problem is. I do hope the Sectassians don't catch it. That would not be pleasant."
Clara chuckles, waving a hand dismissively. "I -do- have one Sectassian patient who's not feeling all that well at the moment, but I sincerely doubt you've the same problem she does," she decides, heading towards the atrium.
Corian manages a more sincere smile as she follows, graceful even now. "Ah, yes. Ximena had mentioned that. I'm most happy for her, though her youngest is less than pleased."
You walk towards the Central Atrium.
Corian walks here from the Richly Appointed Hallway.
Clara chuckles, shaking her head as she taps the call button. "This doesn't surprise me. Still, I'm sure it'll be a joyous addition when the time comes."
[travel to Medbay snipped]
Corian nods her agreement to that, expression quite pleased. "Xalin will like his new sibling, I believe, once he is used to the idea of having one."
Clara tugs the datareader from her pocket and slides it onto a counter, then waves at a bioscan unit, grinning. "Hop on up there. Little ones are blast, yeah. There's a human urchin running about here now...G'ben. Have you met him? Adorable little fellow. Sharp as a tack, for that he's not had it easy."
Corian puts down her terminal, which, of course, came with her, and climbs lightly onto the bioscan. "I have not met him, no, though I believe I may have heard the name mentioned."
Clara opens a cabinet and pulls down a scanner before making her way back to the bioscan and pulling the curtain closed modestly. "He's a doll and a half. Rough around the edges, but it's to be expected." She taps the bioscan unit on as well to begin its own unobtrusive readings.
Tarrant arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Enter Tarrant, moving very carefully, and paying strict attention to where he is going. The effect of his balance guarding is that he is moving rather quietly, and is somewhat unobtrusive. Making his way to the waiting area he goes about the complicated process of actually sitting down in a chair without jarring anything. Looking rather absorbed in thought, and altogether out of it, he prepares to wait.
Corian inclines her head to that. "Is he one of the children from the Underground?" she inquires. There's a faint shake of her head, likely for the presence of children in such an environment, but she doesn't comment further on it.
Clara nods slowly, a faintly grim tightening of her lips at the affirmation. "He is, yes. A sad situation. I've done what I can by spending time in their clinics, but there's only...so...much..." She stops abusing ellipses and peers at the bioscan's readout, then brings her scanner into play. "Corian, I may need a blood sample," she says thoughtfully.
Familiar voices are one thing, but a familiar name? A terribly achingly familiar name? Tarrant's ears all but prick up, and he glances at the curtain, brows lifting in a faintly wistful expression.
Corian observes quietly, "It is a deplorable situation, but, unfortunately, this is not the only place it exists. Perhaps..." She cuts off her musings to nod, with a faint smile. "Of course. Please do whatever is necessary."
Clara's brows remain furrowed as she works, prepping a hypo to withdraw the sample, then feeding it into the computer. "Describe your symptoms to me as best you can, please? Nausea...what else? Fatigue? Lower back pain perhaps?" She tugs a flat instrument from a drawer and holds it up. "Put your hand on this, please."
Corian nods quizzically as she puts her hand on the indicated instrument. "Yes, those are the symptoms. Is it going around, perhaps? I do hope the children don't catch it; it's somewhat unpleasant."
Tarrant looks rather decidedly concerned, and remains un-moving in the plastic scoop chair, crutches held lightly in one hand. His own difficulties forgotten, he waits.
Clara shakes her head in uncertainty, tapping at the controls, then frowning at the result. "Thank you," she murmurs, returning the instrument to from whence it came, the heading over to the computer again. Peering over the results, she's quiet for a very long moment, then chuckles. "I can safely say I doubt the children will come down with this."
Corian looks rather relieved. "It is not contagious, then? That's very good. I would feel rather guilty if I passed it on to Ximena's younglings. She certainly has enough to do as it is without dealing with ill children."
Clara turns back, eyes dancing with a cross of good cheer and relief as she nods. "Not a concern at all. For that matter, you and Ximena can start comparing notes, I'd imagine." She gestures back at the moniter and explains matter-of-factly, "We'll need to get you started on pre-natal care, though. Congratulations, my friend. You're pregnant."
Crash, thump, scatter. That would be the sound of Tarrant's world crashing into teeny tiny incomprehensible bits. Pregnant? She's pregnant? That must mean there's someone else and he was altogether too late. Patience has obviously mis-served him this once. Goodness, it only takes a single word to break a man's heart it seems. He levers himself up onto the crutches, although it takes some pretty serious balancing to remain upright, and exits the room post-haste.
Tarrant heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Shock, startlement, surprise, beflooredness... all these can very easily describe Corian's expression. "But... are you certain?" Her voice is very quiet, and a bit confused. "Clara, is something wrong with the instruments, perhaps?" (This pose is brought to you courtesy of honking big river.)
Clara blinks at the response, obviously faintly surprised, but dutifully leans to double check a few of the instruments, then peers back over her shoulder at the monitor. "The instruments are fine, Corian. You just don't get these kind of enzyme levels in the bloodstream or the release of hormones without being pregnant." Her expression turns compassionate, voice soft. "I take it this wasn't planned, then?"
Corian shakes her head firmly. "It was not planned... Clara, it is not -possible-. It cannot be, not unless I greatly misremember how these things work." She's still altogether stunned.
Clara gestures lightly by sweeping her hand in a small panoramic, shaking her head with sympathy. "Corian, it really doesn't take much, though. Just one night...saints, not even that." She reaches forward to try to rest a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "It's going to be fine. I know just how you're feeling."
Corian shakes her head once more, with a faint smile. "Clara... no, you misunderstand. It was not one night, it was not -ever-. I haven't... I never... this really is not -possible-." With another headshake, she adds, "Well, not without starting a major religion, it isn't."
Clara stops stock still, eyes widening at this news. "Not...-ever-?" Hello, and welcome to flooring the doctor. "Well, it isn't...-required-, but it certainly is the easiest way," she notes, rather astonished. "You," she drops her voice to a low, comforting murmur, "weren't forced, by any chance? By whomever left the bruises? Or perhaps an artificial insemination?"
Corian shakes her head once more. "I was not, no," she says, trying to come up with any sort of explanation for this situation. "Never. There was nothing like that. Nothing at all." With a shaky laugh, she says, "There must be another explanation. I no longer follow my own religion, so it seems most absurd for me to create a new one." Yes, she's joking.
Clara can't help but echo the laugh, if a bit sadly. "Wouldn't it, though? I'm afraid I'd have to be terribly scandalized and go spend the rest of the day lighting candles. Now..." she says, changing tactics to complete reassurance. "You don't have to be embarrassed with me, Corian. I'm a doctor and a friend...I'm here to help you. We all make mistakes, you don't have to hide it. It only takes one time..."
Corian shakes her head. Tone no longer joking, she says quietly, "It is a somewhat distressing situation, but I am being honest with you, Clara. I have never done anything that would cause this result. There simply must be another explanation."
Clara's brow furrows heavily, alarm starting to creep into greenish eyes. "You're certain? Mr. Czolgosz..." she suggests quietly, gesturing at the curtain vaguely. "Not even an incomplete, ah..." She cuts off here. Doctor yes, professional setting, yes. But this is more than enough to make Clara turn neon in most circumstances.
Corian repeats, slowly and patiently, "I have never done anything that would cause this result. I am quite certain. Mr. Czolgosz... Tarrant... is a friend only. His conduct towards me has been beyond reproach."
Clara has to lean against the counter, blinking owlishly in shock, distracted enough to note, "That's not reproachful behavior, though..." before folding her arms, one fist up for her to rest her chin on as she puzzles. "These things do -not- happen spontaneously." She sighs heavily and shakes her head. "I don't know what to tell you, Corian. Except that in ten months, you'll be a mother."
Corian shakes her head very slowly. "This is... most unsettling," she says slowly. "Can you offer any possible explanation? Anything at all?" She looks really quite confused. "I -am- recalling correctly, yes? This should not be possible?"
Clara exhales a vastly puzzled sigh, shaking her head and counting off on her fingers. "I only know of a few ways to get pregnant. One, the old fashioned way. Two, artificial insemination. Three, in-vitro, like they do for initial genetic hybridization of some races. Four, subsidiary transplantation. Was there ever a time you were unconscious in the last month?"
Corian considers for a moment, then shakes her head. "There was not, no. I have not done any of these things... how can this situation exist?" Quick, someone call Geraldo!
Inquiring minds want to know!
Clara just shakes her head slowly, all sympathetic concern. "I just don't know, Corian. I just don't know. I wish I could tell you." She exhales a troubled sigh, then frowns back at the monitor. "I do have your blood sample though. I'll start working on it right away and see if I can't find some answers. When you're farther along, I can get a genetic sample from the fetus and test for paternity, if you like?"
Do you want to know? Tell us, King!
Corian nods slowly to that. "Yes, I would like that. I would appreciate that very much." She takes a deep breath, then inquires, with a faint smile, "What do I need to do next?"
Clara reaches high into a cabinet to pull down a bottle and offer it over with a wistful smile. "Pre-natal vitamins. Start with one a day for now, and try to eat and sleep right. Avoid alcohol and caffeine. Maybe find a friend to spend some time with so you're not alone for a while."
Corian takes the bottle with a murmured thank you, clearly an automatic response. It's starting to sink in, now, and she looks just a bit lost. "I will attempt to do so, yes," she says quietly, rather subdued. "Thank you very much for your assistance." With that, she starts to get up from the bioscan bed.
"Corian," Clara notes, reaching to help you up from the bed with one hand and pushing the curtain back, "you're not alone in this. You've family and friends here that will support you and any decisions you make. Just keep this in mind, all right?"
Corian nods, though for a moment she's looking like she's doing some sort of mental arithmetic. "I will remember that," she says, with a faint smile. "Thank you. I just need a moment to accustom myself to this."
Clara accompanies Corian to the doorway, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently and nods. "Take all the time you need. And come see me whenever you need to. Even if it's just to talk." She hesitates, then asks, "Would you rather this be kept quiet for a while? May I tell Riley?"
Corian hesitates for a long moment over her answer. "I would prefer that it be kept quiet, yes, but of course you may tell Riley. He will know soon enough, after all." Smile warming briefly, though the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes, she says, "And I will very likely take you up on that offer. Thank you, Clara." With that, she slips out of the room, computer tucked under one arm.
Corian heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara shakes her head slowly, eyes closing a moment against her sympathy for her friend. After a moment, she turns back with determination to head back to the computer and begin her research.
[Clara finally gives up on research, and heads over to go bounce ideas off Riley in Security]
Clara sketches an utterly absent-minded salute at Anya, brow furrowed in intense concentration as she meanders without asking back towards the door o' doom and knocks lightly.
The light by the door shifts from red to green.
You walk towards the Chief Addison's Office.
Riley is seated behind his desk, the two uncomfortable chairs piled in a stack behind him. He's working on the piles of paperwork. Seeing you he smiles broadly, "Hello love."
Clara lets herself in the door, still terribly distracted as she moves to lower to...they're gone. She frowns at the empty space, then at the chairs behind the desk, and decides to just lean against the edge, arms folded. "Hey yourself, sailor. Busy day?"
Riley doesn't seem to notice the seeking of the remove chairage. "Yeah, more or less. How bout you?"
Clara nods vagely, still obviously disturbed by something. She starts to say something, then pauses to reevaluate, then sighs and tries again. "Riley...darling. I need to know something...something personal. May I ask?"
Riley's brows furrow in concerned consternation, but he nods. "Of course love, you of all people can ask anything."
Clara nods again, heaving a slow sigh and rubbing at her forehead. "Hypothetical situation. Someone you love and are close to very unexpectedly finds out she's pregnant. What would your reaction be?"
To drop his pen it would seem and look startled. Riley blinks at you. Attempting to say something he ends up looking rather like a fish. Perhaps a fish that's been hit upside the head with a two by four, "You're pregnant!?"
Clara almost jerks back, eyes widening at the proclamation as her jaw falls slightly open. "I am?" Well goodness, this is as big a surprise to her as to you.
Riley is now simply confused, he picks up the pen to gesture with it, "Aren't you? I mean you asked, you asked..."
Clara sinks back against the desk, an explosive sigh gusting out as she shakes her head with vast vehemence. "Not -me-, love. Not a chance. I'd say that'd be rather an impossibility, hmm?" she adds with a still-startled laugh. "No. Not me. But...Corian."
Riley is somewhat less confused now, maybe. "Okay, okay, -you're- not pregnant, but Cori is?"
The troubled look returns as Clara nods slowly, brows furrowing. "Yes," she replies, then reaches a hand towards you, almost imploring. "You will be supportive of her, won't you love? She's going to need all the good will she can get."
Okay, at least we seem to have lit upon something Riley understands, "Oooh, an uncle again... more noisy toys."
Clara almost sags with a hint of relief as she half smiles, although it fades into troubled confusion again. "More noisy toys, yes..."
Riley gets past a brief musing on the joys of things with sirens to look somewhat bemused, "Why'd she pick now to have a kid though? Considering the nature of her work...and her tendency to rove."
Clara finally decides the couch looks convenient and moves to drop into one corner of it in exasperation. "She didn't, though, that's the thing. She didn't do anything -to- get pregnant. And I just can't accept that this is the start of a whole new religion..."
Riley seems to handle this with relative equanimity (and some extra syllables for good measure). "I don't know, I could buy Corian as the Messiah." He shakes his head, looking confused, "But how could it be? I mean, she has an implant for goodness sake. I was at her thirteenth birthday party right after she'd gotten it. One of those 'growing up' things on Kashid."
Clara snorts slightly, leaning an elbow on the arm of the couch and tilting her head into that hand. "I don't buy it. I like your sister a lot, but it doesn't square." At the explanation of the implant, her eyes narrow in thought. "There's also that...I'd forgotten. With regular upkeep for women, those things completely prohibit pregnancy."
Riley climbs up from behind his desk, finding balance against it. He wanders over to the couch, plunking down beside you on it. "It's the standard back home. With that tightly packed a population, breeding controls are -strict-."
Clara nods vaguely, still obviously thinking at a furious pace and rather annoyed at the elusiveness of the solution, although she leans in almost automatically. "Exactly. You mentioned that some time ago that everyone got one. I'd imagine the upkeep is mandated too...but maybe since she's been off planet for a while, she forgot? But that still wouldn't expl-...or would it...?"
Riley nods amiably, "Mandated, yeah. Or close enough as makes no odds. They don't have after you about it if you don't have kids."
Clara steeples her fingers, mental gears flying by this point. "The implant blocks the processing...if it weren't updated, it would allow partial, then combined with the modification of the...oh, dear."
Riley doesn't like that last bit it seems, looking concerned, "Oh dear?"
Clara leans up to kiss you on the cheek before jumping to her feet, the grips of an idea animating every action. "I think I may have made a horrible mistake. I'll tell you about it tonight!" she adds, pelting from the room.
Addison's Office> Riley acks quietly, sighing. "Greaaat. A horrible mistake, my sister's pregnant, and I get to hear about it -tonight-..."
[back in Medbay...]
Clara all but runs full tilt into her wall computer, snatching up the stylus and entering search parameters at a frantic rate. And yes, she's muttering to herself. Hello, mad scientist mode.
You say "Corian? It's Clara...are you there? Oh, please be there..." The final words are muttered almost inaudibly, and she sounds extremely excited." into the communit.
Through the static on Clara's communit you hear: Corian's voice sounds, repeating, in Standard and in each of the four major non-Standard languages, that she is currently unavailable for comm-calls.
Clara groans and lets her forehead fall against the monitor lightly as she mutters several choice phrases in French, then pulls away and starts to assemble several devices in a large medical bag before heading out. The nurses ignore this. They're used to her behaving oddly.
[Racing up the stairs to the fourth floor...]
You knock on a door.
Corian calls, "Come in?"
Tarrant would probably say one of a thousand things, looking as stunned as he is. But of course Clara has arrived, and it's time to behave like a normal person. Or try, he realizes rather guiltily she's probably not the best person to run into right now, and he holds both booted feet rather still so as not to call attention to them.
Corian is on the couch, Tarrant's arm around her. It's very obvious that she's been crying. And, in fact, she's still got a hanky in one hand. As she registers the doctor's arrival, she summons a smile. "Hello, Clara. How kind of you to visit." Once again, resorting to politeness generally works.
Clara peeks her head about the door at first, fairly radiating concern and anxiety ridden urgency, then lets herself in the rest of the way to let the door close behind her. "I...I'm sorry to interrupt, but this was important, and I couldn't reach you on the comm..."
Corian nods slowly to that, sitting up a bit more. "Of course, of course," she says, smile still firmly in place. "What can I do for you?"
Tarrant says nothing, as he can't really think of anything that needs to be said. So he just tries fading into the background. Not here, he's not here...
Clara shifts the medical kit somewhat higher on his shoulder as her eyes flicker uncertainly to Tarrant. "Perhaps this would be a matter best discussed at another time? It regards...ah...our last conversation," she adds slowly to Corian.
Tarrant carefully disengages his arm from Corian's shoulders, moving to lever himself to his feet. "I'll let you ladies talk." Offering something of a bow he adds, "Give me a call anytime Corian, yes?" He slowly moves to limp from the room.
Corian's gaze flicks between the others. She starts to say something as Tarrant leaves, but, no, he's too quick, limp and all. "I suppose now would be a good time after all," she says, eyes lingering on the door for a moment.
Clara's gaze drops to Tarrant's ankle in a faint frown before she looks back up and sighs as he leaves. "I'll read him the riot act later," she muses, coming forward and unhitching her medkit to pull it open. "When was the last time you had your contraceptive implant updated?"
Corian blinks at that. "The riot act?" she echoes. At your question, she thinks for a moment. "Perhaps... eleven years ago? It was just before I started to travel."
Clara's nose wrinkles as she pulls out an almost spiral shaped instrument, and fiddles with one end for a moment. "I was afraid of that. Could you possibly lie down?" she asks absently. "Also...I know pregnancy was a surprise, but is it something you wanted? Or want in the near future?"
Corian looks a bit puzzled, but lies down agreeably enough, tucking the sad-faced teddy bear near the head of the couch. "I do not wish it, no. I thought, perhaps, sometime in the future, when I had found a place that I wished to stay--but I have not found that in ten years, so I do not foresee it occurring any time soon." With a faint smile, she says, "But the decision is made for me, yes? Somehow..."
Clara holds up a hand to forestall the comment, shaking her head. "Keep faith, mon ami," she notes distractedly. "And please lift your shirt a few inches? I need to be able to access the original incision for your implant."
Corian looks just a bit puzzled, but nods, lifting her shirt the necessary amount. "Of course," she murmurs, red-rimmed gray eyes rather curious, now.
Clara rummages in her bag briefly and extracts a hypo, pressing it gently directing on the faded, almost invisible tiny line that was the incision at one time, then tugs on a device that fits over one wrist. A small red laser reopens the incision neatly so she can insert the spiraled instrument, and she taps a few commands into it. "Here we go...there, yes...that. Mm-hmm. Got it." Out comes the implant.
And naturally, the hypo was an anesthetic. Clara's not that evil.
Corian watches the whole process as best she can while flat, that is to say, not well, looking just a bit puzzled. "Thank you?" She definitely doesn't know what's going on.
Clara holds up the spiraled instrument to peer at the circuit-like device at the end thoughtfully, then settles to her knees to plink it into a sample container. "I'll examine that when I get back downstairs. Now we wait five minutes, and then I check your hormone levels again. You shouldn't be feeling any pain, though..."
Corian nods slowly. She's still confused. "There is no pain, no." She shifts a bit so that her head is resting on the arm of the couch, and inquires, "Should the removal of my implant make a difference?"
Clara pulls a fresh hypo and a small computer from her bag, shaking her head. "Not if it were current, no. But an expired implant will imperfectly block the ovum production and sinterigen levels, allowing the body to -think- it's pregnant."
Corian blinks. Twice. "To think... so I may not be?" Oh, yes, that's definitely hope, with relief right behind it.
Clara pauses in readying the hypo, schooling her face to be properly grim against the hope she's feeling as well. "I can't promise that," she supplies solemnly. "But it is one theory. We'll know in a few moments," she adds, taking a blood sample from the incision, then giving it to her portable computer for diagnosis.
Corian closes her eyes, lips moving briefly for a moment. It's amazing how folks can suddenly find religion in times of crisis--especially when they're hoping that they're going to learn that they're not, in fact, about to found a religion of their own.
Clara's expression softens at the motions, ones she recognizes so well from familiarity and from seeing them as a field medic so often. Finally, the appropriate data scrolls across the tiny screen, and she exhales a breath. "Corian...I have the results..."
Corian's eyes snap open, moving unerringly to your face. "Yes?" she inquires. It's amazing how much can be conveyed with just one word, but Corian manages it very nicely.
Clara reaches a hand over to rest on your forearm, a warm smile touching her face. "You're not pregnant. It was the implant. Breathe easy, my friend." She rummages in the bag again and holds up a small, sealed package. "Now the question is...do you want a new implant?"
Corian does breath easy, her exhalation one of decided relief. "Good. Good. Very good, thank you." It takes a moment to consider your question, and then she nods. "Yes. Yes, I would, even if it doesn't seem quite necessary." With a smile that still holds some of her relief, she adds, "It would not feel quite right if I did not."
Clara's smile turns entirely into a grin as she shrugs. "Oh, you never know. Might need it someday. If nothing else, it's good for cycle regulation," she explains, carefully tearing open the package and fitting the sterilized implant to the spiral again before reinserting it in the incision. A few taps are made to the commands, a short wait, and the instrument is withdrawn...sans implant. "We'll get this closed up, an antibiotic, and back to life as normal."
Corian nods at that, with another of those very relieved smiles. "Back to life as normal, yes," she echoes. "I really cannot thank you enough, Clara. This is a great relief."
Clara shakes her head, pulling out another hypo and a resonator, using the latter to close the incision, then the former to administer just above it. A pair of bandaids follow just to cover the sealed place. "No...I apologize for distressing you earlier. I should have thought of this sooner."
Corian shakes her head to that, with a faint smile. "Why would you think of it? Most people keep up with their updates, yes? At the very least, I find it unlikely that they would let them go as long as I did. I should have done that. There was just often very little opportunity to do so."
Clara leans back slightly, replacing various instruments back into the bag, the spiral one going into a sanitizer, puffs of smoke indicating sterilization complete before she closes the bag. "Well, let's just be happy that this had an easy conclusion. I should likely go disappoint your brother and tell him he's not an uncle, though. And perhaps Mr. Czolgosz should know you're better? And that I'm going to break his other leg when I find him for taking his own cast off," she adds, obviously joking.
Corian nods at your first statements, with an amused smile for poor Riley. "He would have subjected me to horrible toys with loud sirens," she predicts. "It's an excellent reason for birth control." Then she pauses. "He... what? He did not have that done in Medby?" She shakes her head, with a hint of exasperation, then, after a pause, observes slowly, "He really does prefer to be called Tarrant, Clara. He may be somewhat older than either of us, but he is not that old, I believe, as his species goes."
Clara settles her bag over her shoulder and rises, almost smirking wryly. "No, he didn't have it done in Medbay." Her brow furrows slightly, then. "Tarrant. Well...if he would prefer that, although I'll admit he really doesn't look any older than say, Riley. Do you know what species he is?" she adds, perplexed. "I've never seen his like before..."
Corian shakes her head. "It is not something we have discussed. And I'm not altogether certain of his relative age, as far as that goes--it is merely supposition. But he really would prefer to be addressed by his first name," she adds, sounding fairly sure of that. A hint of amusement touching her tone, she adds, "Though he's hardly one to protest excessive formality."
Clara half smiles, shaking her head with a hint of bemusement. "He's...a unique man, from what I've seen. I'm glad that the two of you share such a friendship," she adds, then leans forwards to offer a hand to help you to a sitting position. "I'll suggest resting a lot for a day or two, just to get used to the new implant. In fact, I'll let you get started on that rest while I go puzzle through your old implant."
Corian nods her agreement to that, with a murmur of thank you for the assistance. "I will certainly be sure to rest, yes. Will you let me know if you learn anything of interest from that? 'That' would be her implant, if her graceful gesture is any clue.
Clara inclines her head affably. "Of course I will. In the meantime, though, rest, relax, be a right layabout for a few days. Holler if you need -anything-. From a glass of water to fatimaners from the bakery, okay?"
Corian nods her agreement to that. "Of course, of course. I will certainly do that." Of course, she doesn't say -who- she's gonna call. It's not going to be the Ghostbusters. "Thank you for all your assistance, cha'leket," she adds, with a warm smile.
Clara pauses on her way to the door at the word, a faintly puzzled but appreciative smile in place. "Thank -you-," she replies quietly. "I'm honored. Now rest," she adds, and slips from the room.