|
|
Clara slips back in the curtain, the footsteps of the nurse relieving her echoing as they grow distant. Evidently she's been gone to shower and change given the fresh clothing, and now starts to put away the bedding and cot she was using as quietly as possible.
Riley is little more than half-asleep, and has been that way for some time it seems. He shifts as much as he can, which admittedly isn't much, tugging his eyes open and peering at you in a not well focused squint. "Hey love."
Clara glances back up in the midst of folding a blanket, unbound hair falling in her eyes from surprise and skirt swirling lightly as she turns. "Riley? G'morning, love...what're you doing awake?"
Riley blinks more than a few times at your outfit, trying to figure out if it's just the fact that his vision's a little muzzy and all with the drugs. He's not quite accustomed to seeing you out of some form of uniform. "Nice." He decides at last that you are wearing what it looks like you're wearing. "Sorta been'wake for a while. Sorta."
Clara finishes folding the blanket, a blush flying across her face as she sets it down on the cot and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. "Mother sent a carepackage...said I needed civvies and couldn't be trusted to buy my own," she admits sheepishly. "How you feeling?" she asks, lifting a hand to your forehead as if checking for temperature.
"Kina'rough," Riley admits, reaching out a fumbling hand to catch at yours. "Cold. Better now though. Y'r'here." There's a pause, and then a vague smile, "I'hafta' thank y'r'mother."
Clara regards you cautiously, although she easily laces her fingers through yours and settles a bit closer. "The cold is normal," she offers quietly. "It's your circulation trying to force its way through new arteries and down into the capillaries, not to mention being bogged by the cortrazime. Let me get you another blanket...flatterer," she adds, smiling vaguely.
"N't'mention y'all kee'the air'n here up t'high," Riley offers something that's probably supposed to be a wink. "M'fine. N'is hard to think of good words ri'now. N'you're -al'ays- gorgeous."
Clara rolls her eyes, utterly amused as she pulls away and tugs the folded blanket from the cot, shaking it out and pulling it over you before reclaiming her perch and your hand both. "You must be feeling better," she notes succinctly. "Or do you tell this to all the girls?"
"Better," Riley agrees, even as he relaxes back into the bed a bit at the addition of the second blanket. Hospitals are always cold, it's a universal law. "Y'r'here. How c'n'I'not be?"
"I'm sorry I had to leave for a bit," Clara offers ruefully, adjusting the blanket a bit higher. "I ran upstairs to grab a shower real fast and change. You've been sleeping through it the past few mornings."
"No, s'good. Showers help. Shoulda' stayed. Slept inna' real bed." Riley's words slow down, but they are slurred less as he attempts to take pains with his diction. "M'all grown up, I can manage, honest. S'just -always- nice t'see you. Even when everything's all fine."
Clara gestures vaguely at the cot, shaking her head with a small smile. "I slept fine, love. I slept on a cot for three years...it's not going to kill me while you're still hurt." She lifts a hand to your hair, running her fingers through a light tangle. "I know you're all grown up. You're old. Ancient. See, we're supposed to take care of the elderly," she explains, eyes dancing.
Riley hmphs softly in mock-indignation, or at least that's more or less the idea. It comes out a little sleepy sounding, but he's rather heavily drugged after all. "Yep, m'ancient. All've what, nearly thirty-seven? Sheesh, wha's that, two hunnered and sixty dog years?" He squeezes your held fingers gently, "Sorry, I worry bout'cha. Most wonderful person I ever met, mean more to me than anything. N'th one time it looks like y'need help, I can't seem to fix it."
Clara can't suppress a small laugh, wrinkling her nose at you. "Egads, all of nearly thirty-seven? What in the world am I doing with such a geezer, and me not even quite twenty-eight," she teases, then returns the squeeze, smile softening. "Just you being awake...alive even. That's all the help I need, Riley. That fixes everything."
Riley is doing his dangdest to appear awake and alert, and not startle at the sound of various people walking by. Without his radio, drugged, and flat on his back, he's just a wee bit paranoid. "Can manage -that-. Couldn't die. Not an'leave you. Never leave you, couldn't. Love you something fierce. Can't make ya' sleep though."
"I'll hold off death so I can live with you?" Clara quotes quietly, smiling slightly. "And I love you. And you look like you're about to jump out of your skin every time we hear a noise. Love, I promise you're safe in here, really. What's wrong?"
Riley makes a visible attempt to relax, although there's definitely a tight chord of tension still beneath the rest. He looks exceptionally abashed, "Sorry, I'll stop. Don't mean t'be so jumpy."
Clara exhales heavily, lifting her eyes to one of the monitors for a moment, then to the IV drip. "It's not your fault," she murmurs, then considers one readout for a long moment. Finally she turns and moves in close, folding her arms about you as carefully as possible. "Is this your first time being shot like this?"
Riley looks decidedly relieved as you get closer, snaking his arm around you as best he can. "N'really. Been shot pretty bad b'fore. Couple few times. Only once before here. Hon'lee was not thrilled."
Clara lets her head down on your shoulder, careful not to put any pressure on your chest, and manages a vague nod. "No, I'll bet she wasn't. I haven't commed her yet this time either. I...I had to be sure we wouldn't lose you before I could talk to her," she admits quietly.
Riley brings the hand up to your hair, stroking it gently if clumsily. "Don' hafta' tell her. She'd never know..." Hello wishful thinking? "Miss her though. Such a good friend." He startles again as someone walks by, this is just not a guy who does well in hospitals.
"She's wonderful, and yes, I do have to tell her," Clara admonishes gently, then pulls up as you startle again, sighing. "Riley, this isn't going to work. You're never going to get well if you're as jumpy as a frog out of water." She purses her lips, then sighs. "Hold still," she suggests, then starts to unsnap your shirt to examine the wound. "Okay, you have a choice. Three, actually. My office, your quarters, or my quarters. Take your pick."
That suggestion garners a look of intense relief from Riley, "Out of here? Way from the people? Never had'ta stay here s'long b'fore. Usually ended up s'mere else."
"Where? Where did Honalee stash you last time?" Clara asks distractedly as she tugs up the bandaging. Fortunately, there's not much to see thanks to the synthskin, but she seems to be checking for something specific. "Looks good, no infection," she murmurs to herself, then reaches across to the bedside table for her stethoscope.
"Her place once. Once inna empty room on this floor. D'pended. Wrong set of instincts." Okay, maybe Riley's not making as much sense as he thinks he is, but he knows what he's talking about. Or at least he thinks he does.
"Instincts?" Clara pauses in listening to your chest to peer up in confusion. "Love, I'm afraid I'm not following you. Just relax now, and maybe try again? She put you up once in her room...and the other time, in a room down here? Like what the visitors live in over in the Hub?"
Riley's eyes sag shut, on some kind of theory that if there's less input he has to process the more sense he can make. "Sort of. Some of them are bigger'n the tiny ones. Instincts. Somethin' bout havin' to be 'lert all the time. When can't, s'bad."
Clara considers this for a moment, then slips the 'scope around the back of her neck as she leans over to tap at one of the monitors to get a different display. "I think we can manage to move you to a private room here on the second floor." She glances back with a hint of apology. "I'd...I'd like to stay with you, if that's okay? I don't want you alone just yet."
Riley manages to tug his eyes open again at that, "Please? Would rather stay here than have to not see you."
Clara smiles slightly and lifts a hand to your face for a moment. "I'm not leaving," she repeats softly. "But I do need to start the transfer. I need you to stay awake for this...do you think you can? And -tell- me if anything hurts. Anything at all," she emphasizes, gently starting to disconnect electrodes.
Riley manages something not unlike a nod, "Can do. Wakefulness, teeth and toenails, all that." He watches the disconnection process in a muzzy fashion. "Pain above and beyond the background level, will tell, yep."
Clara glances back with a mock frown, shaking her head. "Difficult patient," she mutters, then gives a quick wink and murmurs into her comm before continuing the disconnections. A few moments later, Giani pushes a mobile unit. "Good, thanks, Giani. Start taking these monitors to the VIP? Thanks." She turns back to start hooking on new electrodes. "I need to antigrav you over since I can't lift you...so you'll feel light headed for a moment."
"Guess walkin's out, eh?" Riley murmurs as he closes his eyes against the warned anti-grav effects.
Clara calibrates the unit, then counts backwards quietly, engaging the unit and drifting you the short distance to the gurney, blankets and all. "Walking is entirely out. You'd collapse before you got more than a dozen steps," she explains, concentrating on the work, then sighing with relief as she shuts off the grav unit.
Riley looks a hair relieved as well, eyes opening again as the unit's effects leave as quickly as they were engaged. "I'd b'fine, honest. Not dead, no broken legs, can walk." He just can't -talk- obviously, good grief. Well, his diction's better at least. His grammar however would make a cat laugh.
Clara doesn't bother disconnecting the unit, but rather simply stows it in the lower shelving of the mobile unit before starting to reattach the various IV drips to the side. "Riiight. Riley, trust me on this? Your legs work, yes. But your poor heart would scream little sounds of dismay at both of us. Ready?"
Riley mutters a sound of acquiescence, "Don't want body parts screamin' at me." There's a sound sort of chuckle-esque, "That'd be just a bit too surreal. Like some bad advert." He mmhmms quietly, closing his eyes again. "As ever." He pauses a moment, "Thanks, can't say thanks enough."
Clara pauses to snag a pillow and cautiously slide it under your head, shaking her head with a warm smile. "Don't thank me, love. This is what I'm here for," she explains quietly, then does a quick glance around before pushing aside the curtain and pushing the unit towards the door. "Now, pretend you're a corpse, and we may get away with this," she says in a cheesy prison whisper, grinning down.
Riley pauses to consider this a moment, cracking one eye. "What, aren't we gonna stuff me in the laundry basket?" He does however close the eye again and lie quite still. Dead, yup, he can work on faking that. "Do I need a toe tag?" Well, except for when he's making comments.
Clara simply snickers and continues on out the door. "Don't be silly. That's archaic. Nowadays we just cut off the whole foot and preserve it for mad scientist experiments," she notes, ignoring the odd look from the nurse on duty.
[travel spam to room snipped]
Clara makes it towards the single hospital bed...that is a hospital bed? It has all the right flashing lights along the side, except that it's a double rather than a single, and easily long enough for an Edreeni. "Whew...we made it," she exhales melodramatically. "Think anyone suspects I sprung you?"
Riley opens an eye briefly, before opening the other. Having one's eyes open while on a gurney is always a bit sketchy. He twitches one foot beneath the blankets. "Well, if they did, they musta' guessed I was still alive, cause I still have feet." He looks a great deal more relaxed to be out of populated areas, and with energy not being burned to try and quell nervy reactions, his speech is far clearer.
Clara lets out a laugh, evidently more than a little relieved as well as she taps at the antigrav unit again to shift you over to the bed. "Yeah, Vryce tried with a machete while we were passing through, but I was too quick for him. Youth and beauty win out over age and treachery every time."
Riley looks more than a bit relieved as he is settled into the bed. His assertions aside, the trip was not so easy, and he's glad to be in a nice not-moving location. "I'm doomed then. Being elderly and all, and probably pretty treacherous. That's okay, I don't mind you winning. It's good." There's a pause as he manages to take in his surroundings a bit more, "Hey, s'room enough in this bed for you too." He sounds exceedingly hopeful, "Maybe?"
Clara pushes the gurney to the other side of the room before returning to start hooking up the various monitors and IVs again, a grin on her face as she works. "What about that...there is," she muses, glancing back at the bed briefly, then turning to adjust your blankets into a more comfortable arrangement. "We'll see, how's that?"
Room S4
Evidently along one of the outer walls of the Complex, this room is bright an airy given the picture window overlooking the Pavilion, although the glass is polarized to be mirrored from the outside. Despite the window, the room is warmly comfortable, and furnished to match. The floor unfortunately is that unrelieved white tile, but covered in the center with a carpet of swirled shades of blue. In the center of the room is an oversized hospital bed, rails and monitors in place, but a double and long enough for an Edreeni. A rocking chair is in a far corner next to a vidscreen and a small table, opposite a dark brown easy chair that folds out to be slept on. The door to the necessary, immaculate and decorated in soothing sand colors, is in easy walking distance from the bed for the ease of the patient. Plants are scattered here and there to soften the effect of the room further, as well do quietly tasteful Chinese landscape silk screen prints on the walls.
"S'warmer," Riley muses in slurred tones, speaking to himself, obviously pleased with that particular fact. Once again schooling his speech he offers you a look that's equal parts wistfulness and amusement, "'We'll see', so if I'm good I get a Clare to curl up with? I did my homework, honess."
"Gee, I dunno. Might wrinkle my dress," Clara says lightly, starting in on the electrodes, attaching them at various intervals on your arms and chest. "Just what homework did you do, Mister Addison?"
Riley watches the rewiring, shifting his head slightly to one side so he can watch better. "Like a toaster gone wrong," he muses. "Wrinkle your dress?" He looks a bit saddened, not entirely sure if you're teasing or not. "Um, I put a lot of practice into not moving much. I'm quite talented now, want to see?"
Clara makes a motion as if to attach one of the electrodes to your nose, then winks and sets it to just below your collarbone before starting to snap the shirt closed again. "I'm teasing you, Riley. I'll run upstairs later and get extra clothing. If you want me to, I'll share the bed with you tonight."
Riley's eyes cross watching the electrode, and he snickers very softly. "Great, I can see you putting that there and me triggering an alarm by snoring or something." He looks exceedingly relieved at the latter though. "Clara, I'd do anything at this point to get some time curled up with you. Just so wonderful..." He trails off, half thinking to himself, then he looks altogether startled and all but jerks upright, "Hells, forgetting something."
"Riley, no!" Clara all but gasps, then winces as half a dozen electrodes come flopping free out of your shirt. "Yes, yes, I'll sleep with you, but -lay down-. What is it? What did you forget? I'll take care of it!"
Riley isn't about to disobey the command. As it is he has a great deal of trouble and doesn't manage to entirely repress the quiet groan of pain. "No, I gotta write Guido off the rolls. He can't be AF when they catch him. He'd be court martialed. Gotta be a civilian trial. -Has- to be."
Clara's eyes go slightly cold at the mention of that particular gunman. "Why? Why does it have to be a civilian trial?" she asks simply, then sighs. "I can comm Anya and ask her to get the paperwork finished, then have her send a runner over here to sign it? Would that make you feel better? And you don't snore," she adds in afterthought.
"Cause Linnae doesn't have capital punishment clause." Riley manages to be coherent, despite his decidedly ill advised activity. "For shooting me'n Nick though, the AF'd give him the firing squad." He offers you a look that's a cross between pleading and pain, "Could you? Need to be done. -Has- to be done."
Clara locks gazes with you for a moment, obviously more than willing to let Guido face court martial, then softens even through the modicum of pain in her expression. "I will. I will for you," she offers quietly, then sighs and turns away to head towards the room's comm unit, arms wrapped about herself.
Riley's reply is very quiet, he's obviously miserable, torn between wanting to make you happy and his principles. Pleading he tries to explain, "One of my people, Clara. I -can't- let one of my people die for a stupid mistake. If he'd killed Nick, then yeah. But not like this... Not just for him, not just for all the years he did do the right thing, but for me and for the rest of my people. I don' -ever- abandon them. Can't'star' now."
"I said I'd do it, Riley," Clara says quietly, still not looking back, hand above the codepad. "But may the saints have mercy on his soul if he ever crosses my path," she adds in a tone more suited to ice cubes, then looks back, brow furrowed in pained apology before she quickly drops into the rocking chair and starts the call.
Almost heartsick at this point, not knowing what to say, but not being able to rescind his request, Riley eases all the way back into the bed. His eyes sink shut, as suddenly he's far too tired to keep them open. "Didn' mean..."
Clara is already speaking quietly into the comm, though, nodding occasionally at the image there, shrugging once as the words filter back quietly, "...civilian... not ... I know. But... orders ... Thanks, Anya," she adds, then offers a final nod. "Aleron out," she closes, then clicks off the comm before returning to circle the bed and clamber up on the other side and sit tailor fashion. "He should be a civilian by tonight."
"I shoulda' done...before. Forgot. No more dying. Too much dying already." Riley's words are somewhat rambling, and he's not entirely coherent anymore. "Bad 'nough when it -means- something. No more."
Clara nearly wilts at this, the remnants of stubborn anger slipping away as she sighs and reaches forward to start unsnapping your shirt again to replace the torn loose electrodes. "I know you're right," she offers sadly. "I've seen too many men die already. But the echo of your flatline will ring in my head forever, and I can't help but see red. I'm so sorry, love."
Riley doesn't watch the process this time, he's barely conscious in fact. Clinging with teeth and toenails to the edge of it however, he works at slowly regaining coherency. "Mad's fine. I'unnerstand mad. M'mad. B's'stupid system. A wrong system."
Clara mechanically replaces the electrodes before refastening your shirt and tugging the blanket back up and over you, then lifts a hand to smooth back your hair. "Yes, it is. And you're a rare man to realize it. And right now a very hurt man. You can sleep if you want."
Riley has no intention of sleeping however, instead managing several long breaths and slowly opening his eyes again now that the world no longer threatens to recede into gray. "Rather be awake with you. Though y'should sleep really. Y'still look so tired... M'poor Clare. So beautiful, but so much foisted on her all at once."
Clara pushes back a mass of reddish frizz that's stubbornly falling in her eyes and offers you a sad smile. "I'm a big girl," she notes quietly, needlessly straightening your blanket. "And I'm fine, really. I even slept last night. You're the one I'm worried about, Riley. It's amazing how much insight a woman can gain just by seeing the man she loves face down in a bar with his life leaking away. I'll be fine," she emphasizes. "And you're having problems staying conscious, aren't you?"
Riley in fact has a half handful of blanket in one hand, squeezing it into oblivion in an attempt to keep from passing out. "Sleep's n'always enough, y'need stuff t'stop happening." There's a murmured agreement to the last question.
Clara regards you for a long moment, then unbuttons the top sweater as she climbs off the bed to drape it over the rocking chair, leaving her shoes there as well. She recircles the bed after pulling the shades and slips into it with you, coming in close, but not so much as to disturb the wiring. "Let it go, Greg. Sleep's the kindest thing I can urge on you right now. It's okay," she prompts gently.
Riley edges closer to you, insamuch that he's able considering his current state. It's obvious he's trying to curl up around you, he's just failing miserably. He does get a hand over you however before the blurriness invading the edges of his vision takes over and he passes out.
Clara shifts her own hand to cover yours, simply watching for a long time before she sighs and lets her gaze drift off to the blinds beyond. Without thinking, the words of something old, soft, and not in Standard come to her lips in a quiet and unbidden song, which she cuts off after a few measures, blushing, then pulls up her comm to tap in a reminder to comm Honalee.
Riley tosses a bit in his altogether gone state, which is not an altogether bad sign, at least he can toss now. It's better than being half dead. Actually, Clara may not need that reminder. As long as it's been since Riley's called Honalee, she may end up calling Clara to see what's up at this rate.
Clara bites back a soft laugh as she gets a Riley-elbow in the stomach, and edges away slightly to lie on her side and watch the tossing fondly, but at a safe distance. Rolling onto her back, she links her fingers behind her head and stares at the ceiling thoughtfully, wide awake, likely waiting for that courier.
And eventually there's a very soft knock on the door. Whoever it is does -not- wish to disturb anyone within, but still attempts to announce their presence.
Clara starts slightly, glancing over to make sure you're undisturbed, then slips out of the bed and heads over to put her shoes back on before going to the door, opening it slowly, perhaps warily. "Who is it?" she asks quietly.
Just beyond the door stands Anya, looking a bit droopy, which is odd for Anya. She offers a thick stack of paperwork. "I, uh...already had it filled out. Figured he'd want it. Was hoping he wouldn't."
Clara opens the door the rest of the way, relief etching itself into her features as she gestures with her head, taking the stack. "C'mon in," she replies quietly. "He's unconscious again, and shouldn't hear anything if we're quiet." She peers back at the somnolent figure and sighs. "We really shouldn't have expected anything else from him, though. Any word on Sarducci yet?"
Anya steps in through the door, offering Riley a long worried look. "Out cold again... He -is- going to be all right though, yes?" She shakes her head as she turns to close the door with a quiet snick. "Not yet. But then mostly we're working through bounty hunters. I have Security locked down pretty tight. Most folks want blood. We can't have that."
Clara's eyes drop, a hint of guilt there as she crosses to set the paperwork on the small table. "He'll be fine," she reassures. "He was awake most of the morning," she adds, then turns back, arms folded and a pained look on her face. "I'm afraid I may have insulted a few of your hunters last night. They wanted to talk to either him or Niko, and got a little insistent."
Anya's expression hardens a bit, "They don't need to be harassing Riley or Niko any." She pads over a bit closer to the bed, hesitant. "I mean really, the Chief got shot all but first thing and isn't likely to know anything, and Niko doesn't know anymore than anybody else on the scene. I think they were looking for an easy out, but there isn't one." She shakes her head, "I can post guards, to keep folks out?"
Clara thinks this over for a long moment, absently noting, "You can sit on the bed. It won't wake him up," before turning to peek through the blinds out the window. After several moments of silence, she lifts the edge of her sweater and pulls Riley's tangler from her scanner holster and crosses to hand it over, handle first. "Someone posted outside would be useful, Anya. Thank you."
Anya doesn't venture any closer to the bed, murmuring instead, "Don't want to wake him up." She accepts the proffered tangler with a nod that rather implies she's known where it was all along. Sliding it into a pocket she nods. "I'll get right on it. The only problem will be sorting through who gets to do it." She peers at you a long moment before offering, "I wanted to thank you. I wish I could think of a way."
Clara refolds her arms, although the tangler gets a slightly wistful look until it's out of sight. "Rotate guard?" she suggests vaguely, then pushes back her hair again, confusion filling her eyes. "Thank me?" She glances towards Riley, shaking her head once. "I'm a doctor. Keeping people alive is what I do."
"Not just for that though," Anya's words are halting and hesitant, a decidedly out of character situation for her. "Any doctor could have patched and all, but I think only you could have held all this together. And he loves you so much, and that you could love him back. That's what saved him, not just modern medicine. Old fashioned needing to live."
"Then you know..." Clara's words are soft, and carry a wealth of apology. "I do...yes." She lifts her hands to rub at her eyes and takes a deep breath. "So many men I've done the same operation on, and never before was it so terrifying." She looks up with almost bleak sincerity. "I only have a 20% success rate with that surgery...and plasma chest wounds are my specialty." The words spill out, almost confession style. "You're not angry that he and I...that..."
"How could I be angry?" Anya offers quietly. "I still love him, yes, but never, even when I thought I did, did I love him the way you do. I needed him to be the Chief, an Admiral, something distant. He's more like an obnoxious older brother to me, someone I care deeply for, and want to see happy, but has a really bad habit of remembering all the embarrassing bits at exactly the wrong time. No, I want him to be happy, I have for years. He needed so badly for someone to love him for who he was, rather than what his job was, and I couldn't do that. You gave him that, and I can never thank you enough."
Clara lets out a single, soft, and mirthless laugh of astonishment. "I almost wasn't able to," she admits hesitantly, then looks up to meet the other woman's eyes. "He'll always love you too, I think. And this is a good thing, I'm sure of it." She crosses to check a monitor, then looks back. "I should be the one to thank you, and I do...for your understanding and generosity."
At last, Anya can't resist the urge, and moves over to lightly tousle the curls of the sleeping man. Riley, of course, doesn't notice. "I'm just glad everything seems to be turning out all right." She moves as if to head for the door, "Although the message about throwing butterscotch at Niko does kind of make me fear this Elasia person."
Taking a step back out of the way, Clara's face warms into a smile at the tousling before she moves to follow towards the door, then hesitates. "Message about throwing butterscotch? Did it turn Niko green?"
Anya can't restrain a snicker at that, shaking her head. "No, she sent it to the Chief the morning he and Niko got shot. It'd not gotten to him, so afterwards when I was going through stuff -I- got it. Turns out Niko'd all but dared her to message the Chief and ask him to throw butterscotch at Niko again. Something about the way it smells being a really good thing. I told her I'd see what I could arrange for after he was well."
Clara just stares for a moment, then dissolves into laughter at that, leaning against a wall for a moment. "I -knew- there was a reason I like that girl," she manages between snickers, shaking her head. "Anya, you'd like her. She isn't afraid to tell old horror stories from Niko's youth. Actually, I've got him stashed on the fourth floor in her room if you end up needing him for anything. But...please, only you, Riley, Kramer, and I know that."
Anya nods, she knows -everything-. "Yeah, I know. Figure he's better off up there away from folks trying to pester. It's good you got the Chief out of there too finally." She muses quietly, "Maybe butterscotch cologne for his birthday, which is coming up and all."
Clara glances back, utterly amused, and nodding in mischievous agreement. "For both of them, actually. Either that or banana scented. Or banana vinyl scented. I honestly haven't a clue what to do for him, either."
Anya nods amiably, "Same day. There's got to be some kind of deeply scary meaning to that. The problem is, what -I- intended to get Niko, Riley already got him. Cheating I swear..."
Clara's eyes widen as she grins, tilting her head curiously. "What'd Riley get for him? Aside from siblinghood of course," she amends, obviously delighted with that aspect too. "But yeah, it's some sort of omen."
"A pair of those inline skates." Anya all but rolls her eyes, "I swear..."
Clara has to cover her mouth to avoid bursting into laughter, eyes closing against the mirth. "I swear, if he ends up -back- in Medbay with another broken leg. Isn't just one fluffheaded goofball giant on wheels frightening enough?"
Anya sighs, as if greatly put upon, "I guess not. I suppose we really -need- another lunatic on wheels to scare the wits out of passerby. There's probably a quota we haven't filled or something."
Clara wrinkles her nose, glancing back towards the bed and noting in a dry undertone, "We could always get them hockey sticks to go along with them?"
Anya makes a soft acking sound, snickering. "Great, not just lunatics on wheels...lunatics on wheels with potential weapons. Lexington would keel over from heart failure."
Clara waves a hand dismissively, trying to look innocent. "And that's bad how? I mean, aside from the fact that he'd be in my clutches for four weeks recovering?" She smirks and shakes her head, then manages an apologetic look. "Are you going to hold up over there for four weeks without Riley? I'd really like him out for a full month."
Anya hmphs softly in amusement at the first but just nods to the latter. "We can hold it together as long as we need to. It's a far sight better to have to go a little nuts with him being out a month, than to have something happen because he didn't take enough time off and to have to do without him altogether."
Clara nods hesitantly, then snort out a soft laugh. "And I felt so horribly guilty for pulling him off duty for twenty four hours. God, that was nothing." She looks up, serious now. "Do you think you could manage maybe an extra day or two after he gets well? I'd like to haul him away from the Complex. Not long...just for a little bit."
Anya nods, "Hey, if you can make him take a vacation, you are more than welcome to the time. Getting the Chief to stop working though... I'm not sure how you intend to get him to stay put for a month honestly."
Clara exhales a sigh, nodding vehemently. "Tell me about it. That's something I haven't exactly figured out yet either. I'm not quite as good at giving orders to him as Hon-..." Her words drift off, an idea lighting in her eyes. "Honalee. That's a thought."
Anya nods, "If you could get her on the comm, or here or something, he'd listen. Although like as not he'd listen to you as well. It's just key to keep him distracted is all. Point him at something else, something that won't require him to need too much energy."
Clara links her fingers at her waist, peering back at the subject of discussion thoughtfully. "He told me he's never really been sailing. I was thinking of maybe chartering a small craft and hauling him out for a day or two. Nothing major, somewhere with calm weather. Quiet and relaxing." She glances back with a wistful grin. "And lots of motion sickness medicine, given where he was raised."
Anya nods her approval, although she snickers at the rider. "True enough. Sailing's different, although he's clocked enough low-g time, and well...never let him drive a skimmer you're in, check? He shouldn't be too bad off."
Clara taps at her brow lazily, snickering. "Low-g isn't -quite- like sailing, but close enough, yeah. Is he really that bad a driver? I knew there was a reason every time we've left the Complex, we walked."
"He's not a -bad- driver, per se. He's a -scary- driver." Anya elucidates, "He's never had so much as too close a call as I know it, but I think somewhere deep inside he wishes he'd gone Air Force so he could fly things. If you've ever wondered what the top speed or maneuverability ratio is on any given skimmer model, you can find out within having been in one with him for about three minutes. He will have demonstrated it. Hence why he walks mostly."
Clara manages not to choke. Not too much, at least. Her arms tighten a bit about herself as a look of horrified amusement covers her face. "I'm driving. I'll cry, I'll fret, I'll make it a medical override if I have to, but flying isn't a goodness," she notes emphatically. "There's a good reason I went Infantry. Okay, this is good to know, definitely." She hesitates, then bites her lip. "Has Honalee called Security looking for him yet?"
Anya looks a bit sheepish. "Twice," she admits. "I wasn't exactly sure what to say. Pretended not to be in. I wasn't sure what the official policy was."
Clara sighs heavily, shaking her head as she pushes her hair back yet again. "No, it's all right. I appreciate what you did, greatly. I...I couldn't talk to her until I knew for certain he'd pull through. I suppose I ought to comm her and let her know the situation before she hops a liner and shows up to haul both you and I on the carpet." She quirks a brow, grinning. "She would, too."
"You're not just whistling Dixie, there." Anya agrees with a nod. "We'd get the riot act two or three times over, with footnotes. She may not be as quick to be heading back here as she'd thought she'd be, she's probably enjoying it someplace less political... But if she thought there was something wrong with the Chief and nobody was telling her..."
Clara looks utterly discomfited, imagining the scenario, then grimaces. "I should call her. Today. This afternoon. Before she comes and thumps us both." She hesitates, then adds impishly, "Besides, I have to tell her the way he got me to fall for him was by drugging my food, tying me up and forcing me to watch bad impersonations."
Okay, that gets a pause, "He did what??" Anya looks immediately chagrined, glancing towards Riley as he stirs. As the Chief stills again she asks more quietly, "Tied you up?"
Clara shakes her head quickly, holding back a snicker and lowering her voice. "It's a -joke- Anya. He didn't, no. Perfect gentleman, all that whatnot. But the look on Honalee's face?"
"You are an evil woman," Anya decides. She shakes her head, "I need to go through, have him sign those when he comes around?"
Clara inclines her head in the acknowledgement of both. "Thank you, I try." She glances back at the paperwork, controlling her reaction and turning back with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Anya. I'll tell him you were here, and get him to sign."
Anya nods her thanks, slipping quietly out.
Your communit crackles to life and says "Clara? Ma'am, I hate to interrupt, but Niko seems to be in some pain." in Elasia's voice.
Clara comes back around to check the monitors again, then pauses at mid check to peer at her comm with dismay. She purses her lips, adjusts the IV slightly, then hurries for her sweater and heads for the door.
You say "On my way." into the communit.
[travel spam snipped]
Ela's voice replies, "Come on in."
You unlock the door and go into room E16.
Room E16
This oasis of practical comfort may not be as large as other suites on this floor, but it is organized to make the most of the available space. The furnishings are tastefully bland, but they are standard equipment. A long sofa wraps around the bulk of the small living room, and a low pine colored coffee table is perched in front of it. The floor is of a substance that looks just like hardwood, but does not quite make the same echoing sound underfoot. A rug of rich royal blue covers the floor in front of the comm and holounit, and is a decided splash of color amidst the sea of tans and creams. The walls are a soft cream, but they've been liberally littered with bright photographs of friends and family, as well as the occasional framed print of Hellenic scenery. A nearly non-descript screen of taupe cloth conceals the exceedingly comfortable sleeping area, and a small door leads off into a bathroom of creams and tans. The one point of size in the room is the dining unit, it would appear more at home in one of the larger suites down the hall.
Elasia looks more than a bit relieved at Clara's entrance, "He's hurting, but he's being too male to own up to it properly."
Niko is sitting somewhat upright, looking more annoyed than anything else. "Because I'm -fine-." Oh, yeah. He's a guy. "Clara, you didn't have to come all the way up here."
Clara hurries in, her medkit in her hands since wearing around her leg would be a little unladylike at the moment. "Naturally," she offers with a soothing smile at Ela. "We'll fix him up. Niko? Fess up. What's going on. Tell me, or I drag you back down to Medbay."
Niko grimaces at the threat. "It's not a big deal," he mutters. "I just laughed, and it hurt, that's all."
Elasia nods her thanks to the other woman, moving back off the bed and sitting against the back of the couch to watch. Poor Niko, he got saddled with a woman who may be silly and all, but she's also used to dealing with diplomats all day and can be impossible to budge.
Clara sits down on the edge of the bed without further ado and clicks open her medkit in her lap, pulling out a portable scanner. "Hold still," she orders, and promptly unsnaps the shirt top without much decorum, running the scanner over the bandage at the abdomen before peering up at Niko with irritation. "Nothing. Nothing?" She snorts and rolls her eyes. "Lay down, Casymed. Now."
Niko looks for a moment like he's going to refuse, then realizes that this is an evil sneaky wench mediclady he's dealing with here, and quietly acquiesces. "Nothing," he mutters.
Not to mention he'd have to take Elasia on as well, who is not only bigger than Clara, but she knows...the chicken story.
Aieeeee!
Clara tugs a scalpel from her kit and starts to slice through the bandages. "Elasia, you may want to look the other way," she notes without looking up from her work. See, she doesn't know the chicken story, so she's keeping a straight face. A hypo comes from the kit to press at the edges of the plasma burn before she sends a probe into it from the scanner. "Infection. Damn. Niko, this isn't nothing, mister. How long has it been hurting?"
Elasia doesn't look away. This is Niko, she's not about to not watch. She watches and all, really. (She also tosses in laundry, and hence idles a bit.)
Niko closes his eyes, so he won't accidentally see the infection. "Yesterday," he says indistinctly. "Clara, I -thought- it was nothing."
Clara glances up to note Niko's closed eyes, approval in her own before she starts to assemble a bit of tubage into a syringe to drain said infection. "This shouldn't be hurting right now, since I gave you a local. And when it comes to a plasma burn, please don't think? I'll let you think when it comes to chemistry, you let me think when it comes to your innards."
Niko mumbles a sheepish affirmative. "Don't think. I can handle that, I th--uh. Bad phrase."
Elasia looks worried, which is not unexpected, and more than a bit guilty. She doesn't however say anything, simply hanging back out of the way and waiting.
Clara chuckles softly, all sorts of interesting sounds occurring at Niko's midsection that her player won't detail. This is good for lots of reasons, not the least of which that she hasn't a clue. Another hypo gets pressed into a muscle at Niko's side. "A stronger antibiotic. Stick to a bland diet for tonight, okay?"
Niko bobs his head in a short nod. "Okay." One eye cracks open, to see if peeking is safe yet.
"Close your eyes," Clara warns gently, not looking up as she starts to remove the tubing and does a quick inspection inside the wound, then sighs. She plucks another instrument from the kit, shining a laser into the wound, leaving behind a lovely sound. *crackle* "You're not going to want to sit up tonight, either. Ela, can you keep him from doing that?"
Elasia looks a bit relieved, Clara hasn't mentioned hauling Niko back downstairs. "Yes," she affirms, "I sure can. If I have to go down to maintenance for rope I'll do it." And she would too, from the sound of it.
Niko's eyes snap shut, and he grimaces just a bit at the crackling sound. "I won't sit up. No need to get the rope."
Clara clears her throat, hiding a flash of amusement even though her back's to Ela. "I have straps for difficult patients in Medbay if you need them. Giani knows where they are," she notes calmly, then trades the cauterizer for a resonator, starting to reseal the wound. "You sure, Niko? It's no trouble."
"Straps, I'll have to remember that. Giani." Elasia repeats the name so as to memorize it, "If he should attempt to misbehave I'll be right on it."
Niko shakes his head quite firmly at that. "Won't be necessary." He pauses a beat, then notes, voice somehow both disturbed and amused, "You two are -scary- when you're in the same room."
Elasia seems to find that somehow amusing and chuckles, although the sound is more laced with worry than humor. "I think that might be a compliment."
Clara lifts a hand absently to ruffle Niko's hair while the other continues to seal the wound. "Thank you, thank you. I'm taking it as such, definitely," she agrees with Elasia. "Okay, good," she mutters, and starts more gauze over the wound.
Niko shakes his head. "I'm doomed," he mumbles. "Anya -and- these two. I don't have a chance."
"Nope," Elasia agrees softly, "You're simply going to have to get better to escape."
Clara snickers and finishes rebandaging, then even goes so far as to snap Niko's shirt shut. She's nice today. She tugs the blanket back into place, then rises to start adjusting the IV. "Do you -really- want to escape?" she asks, glancing down wryly.
Niko takes the sounds of the snaps being closed as a sign that he can open his eyes. "Well, no. I just want to get better." He casts a look at the monitors, then grins towards Ela, a hint of mirth in his eyes.
"Better is key," Elasia agrees, missing the look which is good because she'd be hard pressed not to poke Niko and snicker most likely. As it is she's just trying not to look too worried.
"The prosecution rests its case, your honor," Clara notes with a fond smile, making the final adjustment, then checking the monitor before she starts to reassemble her kit. "There now. All better. Niko, if you hurt again, listen to Ela. Do not try to think on your own, got it?" Still, she's grinning as she says this. "Ela? He's going to be fine. Beat him regularly about the head and shoulders, then call me in the morning."
Elasia starts to make a reply, discards it, starts another and gives it up as no good as well. Niko's words however tear it, and she can't help but snicker softly. "Beat him, call you in the morning, check."
Clara snaps her kit shut and straightens the rest of the way, exhaling a deep breath. "Okay, emergency averted. Anything else I can do for you two? Anything you need?"
Niko shifts the position of the pillow under his head, but does not, it may be noted, try to sit up. He wouldn't do that with Clara in the -room-. "You could make Ela go eat," he suggests, though without much fervor. "Uh... how's Riley?"
And if he tries it with just Ela in the room, he's likely to meet with as much success. "I ate earlier, goodness. I was up long before you Niko, after all."
Clara glances over at the young woman with raised brows inclining her head. "Just don't forget to eat," she admonishes, then smiles down at Niko warmly. "Sleeping, but he was awake most of the morning. Glad you're up here," she notes evenly, looking up to include Ela in the smile.
Niko flickers a smile towards Ela as well. "Well, that makes two of us. Can I come down and see him sometime? Maybe? I won't stay long, I just... word of mouth isn't the same."
Clara considers this, lips thinning for a moment before she nods slowly. "Tomorrow, I think. Not tonight. I want you flat on your back until morning to let that incision rest. I moved him to a private room, too."
Elasia nods amiably to Clara, "I shall endeavor not to do so." There's a grin in the tone. She listens quietly to the rest.
Niko nods quickly at Clara's words. "I won't move unless I have to," he assures her. "And it's good that he's out of STC. Very busy place. Not the best for recovery."
Clara shakes her head slowly, a faintly troubled look coming into her eyes. "Not good at all," she agrees, then moves over to Ela and lowers her voice to a murmur that won't carry...hopefully. "There's a group of bounty hunters after the shooter...and want to interrogate Riley and Niko both. I tossed them out of Medbay last night...and they don't know where Niko is now. If they find out, comm me, please?"
Elasia's eyes widen a bit but she nods, "I'll keep the door locked and all and comm you and Anya if they show, suits?"
Niko catches fragments of the muttering, and his brows lift. "What's up, ladies?"
Clara inclines her head calmly, then pushes back her hair again. "Very satisfactory. Anya knows what's been happening," she adds, then flashes a grin and crosses back to ruffle Niko's hair again. "Nothing for you to worry about, tiger. You just get well, okay? If there's nothing else, I'm going to go grab a few things from my room and head back down..."
Niko shifts up on one elbow, the better to peer between Ela and Clara. "The easiest way to get me to worry about something," he notes, "Is to tell me it's nothing to worry about."
Elasia nods to Clara with a grateful smile, "Check." She erks softly at the elbow getting up onning, moving that way, although Clara's closer. "Nobody's going to tell you anything if you don't take to behaving. I'll tell your mother on you..."
Clara's smile fades. "Lieutenant, lay -down-," she snaps, then sighs and lets a faint, apologetic smile return. "Valentine and DeMario want to badger your brain. I told them they weren't to bother my patients, in no uncertain terms. Okay?"
Niko stays upright a moment longer, enough to make his point, then settles back once more. "Don't tell -Mom-," he mumbles. At Clara's words, however, he looks confused. "Valentine and DeMario? Why?"
Elasia settles down half cross-legged on the bed by Niko, ready to stand guard over any further up getting attempts.
Clara's expression hardens only for a moment in stubbornness as she deftly clicks open her kit again and preps another hypo, then holds it out to Ela. "Sedative. Press it against his neck if he acts up." She shrugs at Niko, then. "They're on retainer to find Guido."
Elasia accepts the hypo with a brisk nod, tucking it lightly into the pocket of her vest with a nod of acknowledgement.
Niko starts to protest the exchange of that hypo, then shakes his head, apparently finding it wiser not to complain. "Valentine and DeMario," he murmurs. "I guess that makes sense. Why shouldn't they talk to me, though? I can see keeping 'em away from Riley, but I'm not that bad off."
Clara folds her arms and peers down at Niko thoughtfully. "I'll leave that up to you," she says finally, but doesn't seem happy about it. "No more than a half hour, though," she adds, glancing up at Ela.
Elasia just nods, rather expressionless at that particular allowance. She's not thrilled either.
Niko lifts his head--but not the rest of him--high enough to grin. "Can we work out some code word, Ela? That way, if they get obnoxious, we can kick them out." He chuckles guardedly, then adds, "Seriously. If I can help them bring back Guido, I want to do it."
Clara glances at her comm briefly, then sighs. "If you insist, Niko. I'm not happy about the idea, and you know the restriction, though." She hesitates, then grins slightly. "Tell 'em the whole story in Hellenic," she suggests.
Elasia nods to Niko, still obviously less than thrilled. "Code word, sure, can be done." She hmphs softly at Clara, amused. "That would be worth it for the confused looks alone."
Niko nods agreeably. "It's worth a shot," he says cheerfully. "For the beginning, at least. Would kind of defeat the purpose if I never actually spoke Standard, after all." He doesn't seem to notice all this less-than-thrilled-ness. "And I'll do whatever you want, Clara. Want to get better, after all." He mumbles something about getting rid of the monitors.
Clara simply looks thoroughly amused by that mutter, and shakes her head, vaguely poking at the monitor. "Oh, no. Gotta keep this another six weeks," she notes innocently, then winks. "Two. Tops. But if the two of you will excuse me? I need to grab some things from my room and go make sure my other patient's still out cold."
Elasia nods quickly to Clara, "Thank you for coming up so quickly. I appreciate it."
Niko makes a muffled acking noise at 'six weeks', then relaxes. "Evil," he murmurs good-naturedly. "Yeah, thanks, Clara. Say hi to him for me, if he makes an appearance again?"
Clara reaches down to poke at Niko's good shoulder lightly. "Heartrate 85," she mutters then nods. "Will do. Hopefully I'll be able to get some real food into him tonight. Evening, folks," she offers with another grin, then turns to head for the door, skirt swirling slightly.
[more travel spam snipped]
You unlock the door and go into room 0.
Riley is not exactly awake, but nor is he precisely asleep either. He's half curled into a ball, beneath the blankets, at last able the flip off dignity and get comfortable, something he couldn't do in short term care. His words are heavily slurred however, as if he were drunk. "Hey'love. When'iss'it?"
Clara lets herself into the room quietly, a small duffel over her shoulder. At the words, her eyes snap guiltily up to the bed, and she hurries over, dropping the duffel onto the foot of the bed. "Riley? Are you okay? Oh, I'm sorry...Ela and Niko needed me. When's what?"
"When's'now. D'n'b'sorry. 'Vrythin's fine. S'Ni'o'kay?" Riley doesn't move much, apart from the occasional brief shudder. He's not very together or coherent.
Clara's fingers fly over one of the monitors, brow furrows in worry as she checks various readings. "Niko's fine," she replies absently. "He sends his best and wants to come visit. Ela's taking good care of him. You're in pain, Riley," she accuses, horrified.
Riley murmurs something rather vague, shivering again in fits and starts. "S'good. Fine, n'prob." It's not entirely clear though what he's responding to, but he does move some, to curl up a bit more. "Didn'..."
"Irritant homme," Clara mutters, terrified out of Standard briefly, leaning down slightly to start to check the monitor on the IV drip, then gasps in dismay. "The cortrazime is -off-...dear lord. Riley, did you do this?" she asks, rapidly dialing the painkiller back up to a proper level.
Riley continues just to lie there a few minutes, he doesn't look real coherent still, but the shivering leaves off. "Didn' touch... Promise. Just woke up."
Clara straightens, eyes afire as she stares at the door, then snaps up her comm to contact Anya, evidently reporting the situation and requisition armed guard posted outside the door, then hurries around to crawl up onto the bed to see your face, her own pale with worry as she glances back over the monitors again, then slips an arm over your shoulders. "Hush, love...it'll stop hurting in a moment. It's okay, really. God, I'm so sorry. So sorry..."
With one last shudder Riley edges a bit closer to you, his eyes sagging shut with relief. "Y'didn'do it." He's still a bit too far gone to care who did, as he tries to stifle a coughing fit. "Thanks."
Clara is by now shaking slightly as well as she sets her forehead to yours, sliding down on one side in the attempt to offer her own warmth, heedless of the electrodes this once. At the coughing, she pulls away just enough to bring a hand to your chest above the wound and rub lightly. "Hush, love...I shouldn't have left you without guard. It won't happen again. The pain starting to fade?"
Riley nods, although the gesture's still a bit vague in that haze brought on by the sudden lessening of the pain. "Lots, almost back down to background again." He doesn't however look in the least bit like he wants you to move anywhere, shifting one arm up by force of will to drape it over you protectively.
Clara lets out a soft sigh of relief, not all that inclined to move away either, and rather looking as if your pain had nearly hit her between the eyes. "I brought you a penguin," she notes softly, close enough not to do much more than whisper. "And Anya brought all that paperwork over."
While Riley comprehends penguins right off, the paperwork takes a moment longer to comprehend. When it hits however, he sighs quietly. "Gotta sign that." He doesn't move yet however, despite the urgency of the situation in his mind. He's steeling up the energy to do so. "Penguins are good."
"Later," Clara urges gently, slipping a hand around to rub lightly at your back. "You're not moving for right now, Addison. If I have to lay here and hold you for the next hour, you're not moving. I know exactly how badly that hurt, and I'll doubt you could even hold a pen right now."
Riley relaxes back a bit, giving up on the gathering of energy. "Hour can't matter, can't... Hope not." He eases in a bit closer, heedless of electrodes and tubes and all. Resting his head against your shoulder, he fights off another spate of coughing. "Not moving."
Clara bites back a sound of dismay at the cough, and simply circles her hand on your upper back, resting her cheek against your hair. "Not moving," she agrees softly. "I don't think even a day will matter," she notes soothingly, then tilts her head to kiss your hair lightly. "Feeling better? Any warmer? I can up the dosage again..."
"Better, here with you. Drugs're kicking in. But a day'd matter. I've got a feeling Guido didn' run far." Riley's quiet a while, just concentrating on breathing properly, "N'if Anya brought it, it'll all be done but for me signing my name twice. Don't think that'll be too hard."
"She had it all filled out and was just waiting for me to call," Clara agrees softly, perhaps more relieved by the lack of slurring than anything else, for all that she doesn't loosen her hold on you a bit, but continues to run her hand over your back. "She and I had a good talk. Riley...love, I'd like to put you on four week's med leave."
Riley goes into another fit of quiet coughing, but regains composure and breathing. "A month?" He questions quietly, sounding almost like a kid who's been told he can't have a puppy. "A whole month?" Then there's a pause, as he considers how long it's likely to take before he could conceivably do real work anyhow. There's another pause, "I kinda' wanna argue that. But on the other hand, getting into an argument when I'm curled up with you, and I want to stay that way, seems like pretty bad planning." He pauses, "If it'll get you to spend the night in this bed with me, and you get some real sleep in a real bed tonight, I won't try'n file protest or anything."
"A whole month," Clara agrees solemnly. "And that's cutting it fine. I already discussed it with Anya, and they can survive that long without you, even if they won't enjoy it. I also have clearance to take you for a short vacation. Just a day or two. Two, if I have my way," she explains, then smothers a smile in chocolate brown curls. "If you won't argue, I'll certainly spend the night with you, yes sir."
"Vacation?" Riley questions, the sound of a chuckle in the reply although he doesn't actually do so. "Don't know if I know what that one means. S'that one of your fancy Terran words?" He takes another measured breath, "No argument here."
Clara smirks vaguely, a measure of amusement rippling through her own voice. "Not in my family, darling. We call it either holiday or vacances. Besides, you don't even have to dress up. I'm taking you sailing," she notes in tones that brook no argument. "I mean...if you'd want to go, that is."
"Sailing sounds nice." Riley murmurs softly, "Nice and warm, nobody yelling, nothing being crazy. Away from the Complex. Can't believe I want out of the place. S'my home. Happy here. But wouldn't mind a couple of days out." He breaks off to cough again before adding, "Off alone with you'd be heaven."
Clara's lips quirk in more than a small amount of relief as she allows her eyes to close. "I suppose if you can trust me," she murmurs with a hint of teasing. "That was my thought. Warm, quiet, and relaxing. And just because you like home doesn't mean a break isn't nice." Her fingers work at a tensed muscle along one scapula as she sighs. "The coughing is normal," she notes gently. "I expected it a little later than this, but the lack of anesthetic must have brought it on. It'll fade soon enough."
Riley drowses a bit, warm and content to be where and when he is. "Normal's good. Fading's better." He takes more even draughts of air, so as to try and keep from coughing. "Just you'n me and the middle of nowhere. And a boat Denner doesn't try turning over."
Clara stifles a hint of a laugh, actually relaxing as well as she rests her face against your hair again. "Can't turn a boat that size over," she murmurs. "Not without lots of effort. I can push you over the edge, though. Hope you swim good," she adds, then ventures a ghost of a kiss at your hair as she relaxes several more notches...likely for the first time in days.
"Can swim pretty well. Learned the hard way." Riley murmurs, his words not slurring, but somewhat softer. "And then went and learned how to do it right. Which was good after the Aslan." He pauses, "Why doncha' get some sleep?"
Clara murmurs something about teaching you to swim, letting her hand drift along your back a final time. "Just for a bit," she agrees, not slurring, although her accent's picked up. "You too, love," she suggests...or seems to before days of waking at every monitor beep finally take their toll, and she's fast asleep.
Riley looks a bit relieved as you drift off, and is very careful indeed to stifle the urge to cough, or even so much as twitch, lest he disturb you. Eventually he too drifts off.