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Clara is curled up on the bed beside you, puzzling over a book of some sort. The room's comm goes off and she reaches for the headset without looking, then murmurs a response into it. Surprise infiltrates her expression as she mutters, "Hold on. I'll check. Riley?" That last is whispered as she leans over. "Are you awake?"
Blink, blink, blink. Riley blinks blearily. "Not really," he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "But perhaps a reasonable facsimile thereof. Who is it?"
"Niles," Clara replies, obviously baffled. "And he wants to talk to you, not me. Shall I take a message?"
Riley levers himself more or less upright, still rather unsteady just yet. He does however attempt to force himself to some alertness, running a careful hand through his recently trimmed curls. "Uh, no, I can take it. Wouldn't want to be rude."
Clara hands over the headset, then politely climbs off the bed and heads over to the kitchen area to plunk the book on the counter while setting water on to boil. In oversized t-shirt and unbound hair at odds with the sunlight filtering into the room, she could likely pass for about eighteen.
Riley accepts the headset with a nod of thanks, propping himself up against the headboard before slipping it on. "Good greetings, sir." He even manages to sound alert, "My apologies for the delay."
The somewhat static ridden image of the Family's butler looks severely intent, far at odds with his rather paternal amusement from the day before. "Thank goodness you're back on Linnae safe and sound, lad. No apologies, indeed. My regrets for having bothered you."
"No regret is necessary, when no difficulty has occurred." Yes, Riley is still more than a little out of it, he's depending on prior education. He does however sound a bit puzzled. "The trip back was perhaps not entirely pleasant, but no great risk was involved. I think you however for your care."
"Splendid, splendid. I'll admit Marie and I were somewhat worried," offers Niles, deep furrows appearing in his forehead from concern. "Marie thought there was no need for concern, but perhaps I'm a suspicious old man. You see, I received the oddest communication last night. Some gentleman contacted our household wishing to know in detail what you'd discussed with us."
There's a beat-long pause, one a hair longer than the distance of the call could account for. Riley's expression goes from half-awake to rather alert in jig time. "My apologies that you were so inconvenienced. May I beg a further inconvenience, sir? Could you describe the individual who so contacted you?"
Niles hand appears on the screen, almost at his own hairline level. "Black hair, olive skinned. Human, from what I could tell. Perhaps Mediterranean extraction? One never can be sure, really. A hint of an accent, too." The elder man's head tips forward in thought. "He had a scar along his left cheekbone...not all that old, either. One of those that's well healed, but not faded with the years."
There's a slow nod, and a half thoughtful expression crosses Riley's face as he commits that to memory. "I appreciate the heads up, thank you, sir. And my deepest apologies for having brought this situation upon you."
A gruffly fond expression infects a headshake as Niles grimaces. "Ah, lad, it's no problem at all. But there was one more thing...I did convince Marie to trace the call? Even though there was a couple second lag as if he were several systems away...it was fabricated through double bounce links on the satellites in orbit. We couldn't find the origination point," he adds apologetically, then hesitates. "You will keep any harm from Clara, yes?" Protective father type? Oh, yeah.
Riley nods slowly to the first information, and at the last his expression firms into resolve. "Sir, I would die before letting harm come to her if I could."
"Well," grumps Niles, blowing air through his lips in a dismissive sound, "let's not have it come to that, shall we?" The elder man's expression relaxes a hint. "We enjoyed meeting you yesterday, Admiral. Do come back and visit when you've the chance, and drag along our girl if you can. I'll let you return to your rest now."
"I would indeed enjoy that. Then you could tell me the -other- half of the embarrassing stories and I could watch her turn many festive hues of red instead of simply imagining it," Riley says with a devilish expression. "My thanks again, fare you well."
Now -that- gets a decidedly amused look from Niles, who is well conversant with Clara's ability to blush. "I may just have to talk Marie onto a shuttle, then, just to see such a thing." He inclines his head pleasantly. "A good day to you, Admiral." His image is replaced by the quiet static of a closed connection.
Riley reaches up to switch off the headset, tugging it off and at last giving vent to the yawn that had been arguing to exist. "Not one thing, it's another."
Clara glances back, not really having been listening while you were in formal mode, but distracted from her book and tea by the shift. "What is is, love? Did you forget something in Kingston?"
Riley shakes his head slightly, shifting his legs off the side of the bed and climbing somewhat less than steadily to his feet. "No. Someone commed up your family after I left, wanting to know what had been discussed."
Clara's face goes blank for a moment before she turns away to pull a second cup from the cabinet and set about preparing tea in it. Finally she holds out said cup, frowning. "Whatever for? Wasn't your review done and over by the time you met up with my family?"
Riley accepts the tea with an exceptionally thankful look and a murmured thank you. "Yeah," oh my, doesn't he sound guilty. "I don't know for certain what it was, but it doesn't sound official. Or much like any good."
Clara leans back against the counter, arms folded over her midsection thoughtfully. "That's just beyond odd. Someone checking up on you...through my family." Her eyes come up to peer at you with patent concern. "Maybe I was right to be worried about you making it home safely."
Riley sips at the tea, looking decidedly more coherent as he does so. It's not just the caffeine, it's the familiarity. "Well, if that was the intention of our mysterious individual then he..." There's a pause. "Huh, I wonder if that explains the whole traffic anomaly. A would-be attempt at...something or another."
Clara shakes her head, lips paling in a thin line. "I knew there was something wrong," she murmurs, although this simply seems to be female intuition. "Did the person who commed, did he say who he was? What did Niles say?" She hesitates, something dawning to present a suspicious expression framed by riotous red. "Maybe the attempt was to keep you in hyper so long..."
Riley settles his tea aside, moving to gather up the bed into the wall with the slowness enforced by the aforementioned overexposure to hyper. "He didn't give a name, although Niles was able to provide a description. Black hair, olive skin, something of an accent, and a relatively new scar along his left cheek. Well healed, but not yet faded with age."
Clara doesn't move to help, although it rather looks as though she'd like to. Still, the minor exercise is to your benefit, so she stays put, running a hand through her hair absently. "Sound like anyone you know? Or would have reason to know you? I don't think the family knows anyone like that. Not even the lawyers."
Riley finishes tucking the bed away, looking perhaps a bit pleased with himself with having managed the feat with no difficulty. He heads to the couch, picking up his tea again before he seats himself. "It could be any of a number of people I've passing familiarity with, well, except the scar, which rings no bells for me. I honestly couldn't say."
Clara wrinkles her nose in concerned puzzlement. "Bother," she mutters firmly. Her eyes flicker to the counter for a moment before she peers back with a faint grin. "Hungry?"
Riley glances briefly at the time, nodding rather sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I oughta' scare up a sandwich or something. You?"
Clara tilts her head up with a hint of professional pride, completely at odds with her still sleep-fuzzed appearance. "Starving. Stay right there and don't move." She moves to rummage in the refrigerator, which somehow got stocked partially while you were gone, and pulls out bread, eggs, bacon...breakfast things, all uncooked.
Riley looks somewhat confused admittedly, peering at the proceedings from his couchly vantage point. Something clicks and he queries in confusion, "You're going to cook?"
The one good thing about being a doctor is that Clara memorizes instructions word for word. She pauses to think a moment, then snaps the oven on and rummages in a cabinet for a skillet. "Mm-hmm. Scared yet?" she asks, obviously amused.
"Urm, well not -scared-," Riley replies, sounding somewhat amused, "Startled perhaps. I thought you said you couldn't cook?"
"Awful at it," Clara agrees cheerfully, pausing every so often as her eyes go distant in the effort to remember precise instructions from a cookbook, then lays perhaps a half dozen slices of bacon in the pan. "We'll likely have to call Arthur when the place catches fire."
Okay, -now- Riley looks nervous, perhaps mentally reminding himself of the location of the fire extinguisher. "Uh..."
Clara locates a wooden spatula with only a small amount of difficulty, poking the bacon into submission before pulling down a plate and lining it with a towel. "Yes? Is there a problem, darling?" She's all but humming, thoroughly enjoying this evidently.
"Err, um, no... Pardon while I just fear this sudden cooking urge." Riley says quietly. That is of course until the smell of cooking bacon hits him. "Uh, edit that, make it enjoy. That smells nice."
Clara grins rather mischievously without turning and hunts up a second skillet to break the eggs into with a precision of a scientist testing for surface tension. Probably because it was only last night that she found out eggs had to be broken. Another moment of thought precedes a fork being taken to these with measured amounts of salt and pepper. "Fear is a better term. I thought doctors were evil and to be feared?"
"Well -yeah-," Riley agrees cheerfully, tugging his feet up to sit in a half curl, "But eggs and bacon are not to be feared. Even if they are wielded by devastatingly lovely, but evil, doctors."
Clara pokes at the eggs in an almost tentative manner, then beats them into submission before poking at the bacon concertedly a'la Ela's instructions. Another pause, and then several slices of bread get assaulted with butter and tucked into the oven. "Ah, but this doctor can't cook. At least, not until yesterday." She glances back with a wistful grin. "I have a lot to learn. -Lots-."
"What happened yesterday?" Riley questions, although that injunction to stay put is getting trickier and trickier as the happy smells continue. "If you can't cook, you seem to be not cooking well. It smells lovely."
Clara lets out a quiet yelp as the bacon splatters grease at her, then glares at the pan and pokes said slices a few more times. "Evil," she mutters, then stirs at the eggs. "Yesterday, Niko's dear and wonderful fiancee gave me a cooking lesson. I guess Niko got the results for lunch. And he's still living...not poisoned."
Riley erks softly at the yelp, "Are you all right love?" He knows the evil of bacon splattering. "A cooking lesson, oh my. Did you have fun?" He still seems more than a little unclear on some things, "Any particular reason?"
"Mm-hmm," Clara replies absently, finally scooping the eggs onto a pair of plates. "Fine. It just got my shirt." The bacon joins the eggs shortly before she checks on the bread. "We had a wonderful time until I got called to surgery." The final question gets a fond smile. "Darling, if we're spending decades together, I'm not going to make you do all the cooking. And I don't see us ever hiring a cook. So it's logical that I learn too, right?"
Riley chuckles softly, taking another sip of his tea. "Not that I cook much, either. The time is often short for that. I'm not complaining in the slightest, it just kinda' startled me is all."
Clara considers this while attempting to take the toast from the oven bare-handed, and rapidly discovers this is a bad thing with a small gasp. Instead, she finds a fork to scoot each slice onto a small plate, then turns both stove and oven off before starting to transport dishes to the table. "Startled will do. I was going for surprised, but that's close enough. I didn't know what kind of jam you liked, so I got both grape and strawberry. Will one of those work?"
"I think you managed surprised as well," Riley replies, looking somewhat chagrined. "Can I move now?" He nods fluffily, "Strawberry jam is one of the finest things in life."
Clara can't stifle a laugh, running both pans under hot water before setting them in the dishwasher. "You may, and especially if you'll snag said jam out of the refrigerator? It's in the door," she adds.
Riley climbs to his feet, still slow moving, but more or less steady. He moves to the fridge, removing the jam jars as well as a carton of juice, bringing the containers to the table. "I think I have died and gone to heaven."
Clara takes note of said juice and snags a pair of glasses from the cabinet on her way to slide into a chair, setting each before a plate. Then sighs and gets right back up again to go hunt up silverware. "Nope, you survived and went to Linnae. Is that close enough?" she asks, curls obscuring her face as she pecks through the drawer.
Riley slides into his chair, deftly opening the juice container and filling first your glass and then his own. "Close enough for government work, certainly. You're here, and nearer heaven I need not ever be than that."
Clara finally returns with the silverware and napkins and deposits them accordingly. "Oh, I'd say we could get nearer, but it'd require flying, and I'll pass, thanks," she offers with a wink, experimentally poking at the eggs with a fork. "Please don't be poisoned," she half-incants at them.
Riley nods his thanks for the silverware, taking up a fork and scooping up a bite of eggage with none of your trepidation. He's trusting, see. You're Clara, you're perfect, and besides, he watched and saw you didn't add anything scary. Munching he looks rather pleased indeed. After finishing off the bite he nods, "S'good love. Now you know you're doomed, I'm gonna lock you in a closet and torment you into scrambling eggs all the time."
Clara watches the first bite with trepidation indeed, bordering on downright panic, then relaxes significantly. You're still alive. This wasn't poisoned either. She anoints her own toast, snickering. "See, if you lock me in a closet, Conley will be -ticked-. And he'll hunt you down and yell, since I'll be AWOL. Do I get to keep you in the closet with me?"
Riley nods cheerfully to the last question, snagging a bite of bacon as well. "Of course, see cause you'll have the food in there."
Clara snickers cheerfully, polishing off a portion of the eggs since you so kindly proved they're edible. "Ah, but there's nothing to cook with in the closet. Very hard to scramble eggs on a uniform."
"I'll find a bigger closet," Riley replies simply, adding jam to his own toast with precise care. "One with a biiiiig bed too."
Clara tilts her head over her juice glass, eyes dancing. "You just described our quarters, dear. Why don't you just lock me up in here? I can grow my hair -reaaally- long, and then Niko can come climb it to free me. Except he doesn't get to marry me. He has to marry Ela," she adds thoughtfully.
With a sigh, Riley shakes his head, "This is getting complicated." He considers as he munches on toast, "How about I don't lock you up, but instead grovel at your feet for food?"
"No groveling," Clara replies promptly, waving a piece of bacon like a mini-sword. "Or I dump a pitcher of water on your head. You know, you can always just -ask-. I'm supposed to get more cooking lessons from Ela anyway so Niko can eat the results."
Riley shakes his head with a chuckle, "Awww, but I like groveling to you." He munches some more. "Speaking of Nick and Ela, Nick sent me a message, he wants to yammer at me. He said when I got back."
Clara's brows scoot up in surprise before she nods affably around making the bacon-sword disappear. "Did he say why?" she asks finally. "Maybe you should head down after lunch and invade Security. Let them know you still live."
Riley shakes his head, snagging another several bites of bacon. "No, he didn't. Just said he'd been trying to track me down."
Clara shrugs, tearing a piece of strawberry-laden toast in two and making short work of one half. "I saw him last night, but then I guess Kathlyn and Kya and I were too busy torturing him. I had to go to Security of all places to find someone who knew how in the world eggs could be folded."
Riley is -not- laughing, really he isn't. He's eating, honest. "Somebody helped you out I take it?"
Clara nods, smirking at you vaguely. "Yes, they helped me, evil man. How was I supposed to know you could fold eggs? Or that you had to break them open, for that matter," she exclaims, then snickers. "Kind of like the lemon, though. Gotta squeeze them for the juice to come out. Shaking doesn't work."
Riley all but chokes on a bite of bacon, stifling a laugh. "No," he manages gravely. "Shaking doesn't work."
Clara waves her juice glass before taking a drink, vastly amused. "Oh, go ahead and laugh before you hurt yourself," she suggests with a grin. "I -told- you I couldn't cook. I slice chicken very well, though, thank you. After I found out who julienne was."
Riley does indeed have to laugh, although he keeps it mercifully short. "I'm sorry love, I should not laugh, but the mental image of you shaking lemons at things is somewhat amusing."
Clara is snickering right along with you though, shaking her head. "Ela was pretty amused too. I thought the blasted thing was broken, to be honest."
Riley just shakes his head, polishing off his food. Obviously Rileyan eating patterns do not apply to real food. "Still, if you'd never known...That was terribly good. I'd've never guessed you were a novice from the taste."
Clara blushes, a half slice of toast still on her plate, but she seems more inclined to just sip at the juice. "Recipes. I memorized probably a dozen or so yesterday. I guess I had a little nervous energy going what with surgery, you double jumping to Earth, meeting my family, all that stuff."
"I'm sorry I contributed to the jumpiness factor, though I'm not about to bemoan the result. Food is a wonderful thing." Riley regards you in a bemusedly sappy fashion. "I am glad to be home, for all that I was not gone long."
Clara manages to blush even further although the resultant smile she returns is excessively fond. "It's the distance. I could tell you were gone," she muses, rising to collect the plates. "I did have something that made me wonder, though. Is your review board all Navy? Or a mix?"
"Navy," Riley replies, blinking as you get the plates. "Let me get those, you cooked, I should manage dishes."
Clara fixes you with a -look-, not relinquishing the plates. "No, but you're still recovering from hyperjump hell. Dishes I can do, anyway. Every cadet gets all sorts of fun KP duty."
Riley resists a quiet sigh, but does not protest beyond that, instead staying in his seat. "I guess," he says after a pause, "I should see about Nick. Maybe radio him first..."
Clara dutifully rinses off the dishes before surrendering them to the dishwasher, flashing an adoring smile back at you. "Might not be a bad idea. I'm surprised he hasn't trumped me up on kidnapping charges by now." Pause. "Although that's an idea..."
Riley chuckles quietly, folding his arms across the table, "I would not object overmuch to being kidnapped."
Clara sets the dishwasher to running quietly and finishes setting the kitchen to order before circling the table to lean against it at your side and grin down. "Not much, hmm? Whither should I kidnap you, oh admiral?"
"I dunno, someplace nice and warm, and away from all this lunacy," Riley replies amiably, one hand to his ear.
Clara falls quiet to let you use the radio, but makes an utter pest of herself by reaching out to further disarray sleep-mussed curls one at a time.
Riley's brows furrow slightly at whatever he's hearing, although he does not seem to object to the tormenting of his hair.
Clara grimaces slightly at your expression, worry creeping over her own. Doesn't stop her from tormenting your hair, fingers brushing through it contentedly.
Riley shakes his head sadly, "I swear, Nick's worse than I am."
Clara stops fussing with your hair and tilts her head, brow furrowed. "He's been doing himself in at work, hasn't he?" She sighs and rubs at her face with both hands. "What's up?"
Riley nods to the first, crossing his arms on the table and looking decidedly guilty. "Yeah, he has." He shakes his head. "No idea yet, he said he'd meet me after dinner."
Clara pushes away from the table, only to step around and attempt to wrap her arms about you from behind. "It'll work out all right, love. Maybe he just needs a few days off? Like you did? I told him he could take the Peregrine out whenever he wanted..."
Riley nods to that suggestion, brightening slightly, "That's a thought. Getting him out of the building a while."
"Him -and- Ela," Clara corrects, hugging briefly before heading towards the closet. "Sailing alone is nice, but it gets boring after about five minutes." *ka-zing* Now why are there foam discs shooting out of the closet?
Riley nods to that, ducking fruitlessly with a chuckle. "Him and Ela, yeah. Out of here. He's been very unhappy lately it seems. Every time I run into him he's rather dark of mood."
The discs stop shooting out, and a moment later Clara emerges in slightly more clothing. "Kya thinks he's homesick, actually. Did he mention his sister had her baby? Like two days ago or something. You know how important family is to him...even extended family."
Riley ahhs quietly, nodding as he clambers up from his chair with careful balance. "Maybe he should go home for a couple of days instead."
Clara shrugs slightly, stepping into the bathroom but leaving the door open as she starts to work knots from her hair with a comb. "I really couldn't say, love. That'd be my prescription professionally, yeah. And he's been here a full year now...has he accrued enough vacation time to pull it off?"
"If he hasn't, I can arrange him some. I owe the man that much." Riley heads to the closet, tugging out a uniform.
The sound of running water splashes in the bathroom a moment, then silence before a mascara-wand wielding hand waggles around the door frame at you. "Not owing, love. Just priorities. Everyone needs some time off, and forty-eight hours to find out why your genetics are off does not a vacation make," Clara decides. Fortunately, the mascara retreats.
Which is a good thing. A be-mascara'ed Riley would be scary. "The trick will be getting him to take it. I'd rather not order it. He's peeved enough with me at the moment anyhow."
Clara peeks out from the bathroom, one hand holding up her hair as another nudges a hairpin in place, puzzled. "He's annoyed with you? I can make it a medical suggestion if you like? Tell him I suggest it for his mental overlay?"
"I pestered him to leave Security, it was long past his shift, and he was just doing paperwork. Nothing vital..." Riley leans against the wall near the bathroom. "I do not think he appreciated that."
Clara makes a rude noise as she finishes putting up her hair, then does a fast swipe of lipstick before exiting and swiping a kiss along the way. "So you marry him and Ela, toss 'em out on the Peregrine for a day or two, then ship them both home to Hellas for a few days. Instant honeymoon."
Riley returns the kiss, ducking into the bathroom. "It certainly sounds like a good idea. Get the poor guy out and about."
Clara retrieves her medical belt and lab coat from the closet, donning both. Well, one after the other...she's not quite -that- talented. "Suggest it to him, love. And I'll tell Ela next time I see her. Are you going to try to pull a full shift this evening?"
Riley returns from the bathroom in uniform, having more or less combed his hair to rights. "It depends on how much there is to do, to be honest. I don't want to really, heck, I'd rather not go down at all. But I figured after I talked to Nick..."
Clara rolls her eyes, not bothering to button her lab coat as she stuffs her hands in her pockets and smirks. "You figured you'd see if you could knock out some of the paperwork, right? You're both incorrigible."
Riley shakes his head, looking rather sheepish. "Actually, I'm getting terrible in my old age, I figured I'd go in so Anya doesn't have to come up here and haul me in. I'm not yet looking forward to paperwork."
"And you're soooo old," Clara fusses, trying not to grin as she runs a finger over the nametape on your uniform. "Anya would not come looking for you the day after you did a double bounce to Terra and back, and you know it. Walk me down to work, at least?"
Riley shakes his head, looking amused, "She would at that. Two days I've been gone now." He nods, moving to bow for you to precede him. "Anything for you my love."
Clara holds up three fingers to indicate just how long you've been off duty, distinctly amused, then steps in to steal a final kiss before heading out the door. "Be careful what you offer, Greg," she suggests in a low, cheerful voice.
You walk towards the Third Floor Elevator Lounge.