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Niko is finding his way to a seat at the otherwise-empty round table, with some of his standard monochromatic food and a blue can. He spots you and lifts the aforementioned can in greeting, before opening it.
Clara makes her way in somewhat distractedly, a few folders under one arm, although at least she appears to have slept recently. The waving blue can gets her attention though, and she flashes a smile of acknowledgement before snagging her own lunch and heading over towards the round table. "Can you spare a seat, mister Security officer, sir?"
Niko nods amiably. "Sure, plenty of seats. Armor's not required at the round table. Arthur's upstairs, so we're slacking off." He snickers quietly at that, indicating a nearby seat with a wave of his fork. "Help yourself."
Clara sinks into the seat with a melodramatic sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. Arthur's still shooting dagger glares at me every time I cross his path, and I left my armor upstairs. In a box. Where it belongs," she adds with a grin. "How's the wedding planning going?"
Niko shakes his head. "It's not," he says, with a grimace. "When I'm not working, Ela is--she's had a lot of presentations to do, lately. Hopefully, her schedule'll ease off soon."
Clara grimaces sympathetically, picking up a knife to slice her sandwich in two and shaking her head. "Poor thing. I do hope it does, if only for her sake. Working nonstop's never much fun." She glance briefly towards the door. "How're you doing otherwise?"
Niko's head bobs in a brief nod as he spears some of his pasta. "Not bad, not bad. My two youngest sisters have informed me that they want to come out for a visit, after Ela and I visit." He shakes his head, with a rueful little grin. "Should be entertaining, if they convince Mom and Dad."
Clara pauses after a few bites of the sandwich, brows quirking up. "To Linnae? Do they speak Standard yet, or is that going to be a problem?"
Niko tips a hand back and forth. "To Linnae, yeah. And Zoey speaks Standard, fairly well. Losi has some more problems, and both of them have the accent--lots thicker than mine. It'd be an adventure, if it works out."
Clara grins faintly, nudging at a pickle spear without really noticing it. "They'll have a wonderful time. Just keep them locked in their rooms the whole time, and life will be good," she teases. "How old are they?"
Niko rolls his eyes at that. "I'm considering it, trust me. Losi's thirteen, and Zoey just turned sixteen, four days ago. She's really excited at the prospect of seeing the Maestro again."
Clara thinks that over, reaching for her coffee cup. "Oh, Einstein! Of course, from the ball. Your sister knows him?" she asks, somewhat puzzled. "I hadn't realized he was from Hellas. He reminds me someone's grandfather."
Niko nods at that, with an amused grin. "Einstein, yeah, that's him. He was her teacher for a while--not from Hellas, but he was there for a while. He's a really great guy, even if he has kind of a fondness for my first name." His shudder is a trifle overdone, and he grins as he works on his food a bit more.
Clara makes a derisive sound, although it's obviously more amused than anything else. "You do realize the only reason I don't use it is because I can't pronounce it, right?" she asks with a grin. "He looks like a nice man, although I've only seen him the once. Was he your teacher as well or just your sister's?"
Niko waves a piece of rotini at you in amused mock-threat. "Well, don't practice it, eh? It's a frightening, disturbing name." With a grin, he adds, "Just Zoey's. I don't have the hands for piano, made small children cry when I tried, that sort of thing."
"Eeeek! Be still, my heart! And while you're at it, pasta salt?" Clara asks with a supremely innocent smile before returning to her sandwich. "You realize when you're done with therapy, you'd likely be able to pick up an instrument again, don't you?"
Niko munches on the rotini, with a muffled groan. "Couldn't play one before I messed up my hand," he observes. "Somehow, I don't think that disturbing-looking device is mystically going to teach me to play the piano. And I don't really have time to learn, now. It's better to do it while you're young, all that."
Clara wrinkles her nose at you, waving a potato chip. "You're not exactly old, my friend. Besides, I'm still taking lessons once a week. I'll bet you could pull it off if you wanted to," she wheedles, then grin. "Although I imagine you'll be busy being a newlywed for a while. You do know how to sail a double masted kestrel class, yes?"
Niko intones, with a grin, "Old as the hills, that's me. And I can manage the sailing, yeah, sure. Dad has one about that size, though I'm not really sure how it'd translate, class-wise. As long as the weather doesn't get insane, I'd be fine."
Clara waves a hand dismissively, munching on the chip. "She's an onboard electric motor anyway. That's what I use to get her clear of the harbor. There's a full comm below with a weather link. Is there anything you think you'll need?"
Niko mumbles something about newfangled technology not belonging on sailboats, though he looks a bit amused, and is clearly imitating somebody else. "Nah, we should be fine. The time alone is going to be the best thing."
Clara looks about to counter that, then decides better and just grins, shaking her head as she finishes off half of the sandwich. "You'll have a wonderful time. I'll get you the coordinates we stopped at before. It's only five klicks off shore, but we saw some dolphins, and it's out of the shipping channels. Very secluded."
Niko grins cheerfully at that. "That'd be wonderful, I'd appreciate it. I've tried to get a look at some of the charts of the area, but, well, time and all." He pauses a beat. "Speaking of, I'd best get back upstairs, lunch break's about over."
Clara glances at her comm and sighs, nodding. "I've got another fifteen minutes to inhale this myself. I'll send those coordinates to your computer in Security. Give everyone my regard, yes?"
Niko nods as he gets to his feet, after polishing off the last of his monochromatic food. "Sure, can do. Same for me and the folks in medbay--except Vryce," he adds, grinning roguishly as he disposes of his dishes.
Clara laughs ruefully, shaking another potato chip at you but not arguing before she turns back to finishing her own food at top speed.
Niko just grins as he heads out of the facility.
[Later, back in Medbay...]
Riley wanders in, decked out in his dress uniform and carrying several file folders.
Clara is just handing a chocolate bar to a small child, then ruffles the boys hair and tells his mother, "Just make sure he stays away from almonds, from now on. He should be fine. Bring him back if there's any problems." The mother offers agreement and thanks, then ushers the lad out as Clara turns to smile at you in surprise. "You venture into Medbay of your own free will? Did you want chocolate too?"
Riley perks up at the suggestion, brows lifting, "Chocolate? Hey, that's a bribe that'd work in my book." He shakes his head, offering the folder. "Nah, just figured you might want your budget."
Clara turns to coax another chocolate bar from a drawer recessed in the bioscan, then holds it out. "I'll trade you? Although honestly, I think you're getting the better end of the deal. How bad's the damage?"
Riley seems more than willing to trade, offering over the file and then leaning back against something convenient and tucking the candy bar in a pocket. "Not too bad. There was a lot of arguing, but all this year's chaos helped as far as getting some concessions."
Clara leafs open the beginning of the file and scans it for a moment, nodding approvingly. "Excellent. Very nice indeed." She pauses, eyes coming back up with widened surprise. "I was approved for another nurse? Riley, however you did that, remind me to nominate you for sainthood. What about yours? Did it turn out all right?"
Riley nods to that, although he steps back enough to abduct one of the chairs. "Mine came out about as well. I -finally- got a decent number of radios. And honestly, it's not any of my doing, other than I pointed out the thickness of this years incident record."
Clara moves over to perch on the edge of a desk, utterly ignored by the occupant who happens to be Kramer aside from the man looking up to grin at Riley over his glasses. "Afternoon, Chief," he calls, then returns to his work. Clara continues to leaf through the file, half grinning. "I can imagine. Just the 4th Fleet incident alone was a joy to behold."
Riley offers a wave to Kramer and a murmured 'Afternoon' by way of reply. He nods to Clara, "Certainly proof we get a lot of mileage out of what they give us, and could certainly use a bit more. It's not like what we ask for is even a drop in the bucket considering what gets spent here. Pocket change compared to what some of these folks make, or spend on decorating."
Clara mutters something about lowering the ceilings, nose wrinkling in a faint sigh. "Seriously. Even the decor of the offices downstairs could eat our budgets for lunch. So you're done with the meeting for the day then? Or do you have more?" she asks, waving a hand at your uniform.
Riley nods amiably to the first question, "Done with the evil meetings. They were kind and okay'd this one, I was worrying we'd have to do it over again for a bit. But I got upstairs and there was a message it was set through."
Clara flips the cover on the file closed and settles it under one arm, tilting her head to regard the uniform with undisguised appreciation. "You're still in dress, then? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's a particularly -nice- uniform." Behind her, Kramer snorts derisively. He's not a fan of dress uniforms of any sort.
Riley nods to Kramer, half-grinning, obviously he agrees with the derisive sound. He taps at the sleeve of the uniform, answering, "I just haven't had a chance to go change."
"Darn," Clara responds utterly facetiously before raspberrying at Kramer and getting a very dignified monster face in return. Medbay is just so mature. "How're you feeling?" she asks, turning back about and lowering her voice in concern. "Better than yesterday?"
Riley holds out a hand, tilting it back and forth. "I live, although during that meeting I wasn't sure if I wanted to." He chuckles ruefully, "Politicians...I swear."
Clara waves a hand dismissively, smirking. "Are enough to make -anyone- queasy at times, not to worry. Which reminds me that I promised to do a housecall to one of the Linnaean delegation's wives this evening. Not really work, but the 'put on a dress and go have tea with the ladies of society' type thing. I am so enthused." The last sentence is said as if read from a cue card.
Riley stifles a quiet laugh, leaning back in the chair. "Do you have calling cards to take? Are they going to let you sit in the parlor?"
Clara murmurs a quiet apology to Kramer as she steals a sheet of blank paper from his desk, then wads it up and tosses it Riley-wards. "I haven't a clue, but I promise I know how to behave, you evil man," she explains, amused. "I was thinking that can-can dress from the ball might be appropriate..." she muses, eyes dancing.
Riley ducks the ball half-heartedly, chuckling. "Aww, none of those cool little sandwiches with no crusts?" His brows perk up, "Ooh, -that- dress? Can I come too? I'll hide in your purse."
Clara can't help but laugh, snitching a pen from Kramer's desk...or at least trying to before it gets snatched right back without the nurse ever looking up. "I don't have any purses that big, silly. Actually, I thought I'd wear that red velvet one I have. I haven't worn it in...well, just once, really. You'd be bored silly, though. It's a ladies only function," she explains, the last three words steeped in a snobby British accent.
Riley sniffs, attempting to look sad, but perhaps a bit too bleary to pull it off. "Awww, but if you're gonna dress up all pretty, I can just go and drool the whole time. That'd make a -great- impression. We could tell them I'm a potted plant or something, not a guy."
"What this? Oh, no. That's not the Admiral, whatever gave you that idea? That's just...a tree. It's sap, really, not drool." Clara finally vacates Kramer's desk, still sublimely ignored, and traipses over to drop into a seat beside Riley. "You know, if you'd ask me out one of these days, I'd dress up for you, too," she notes casually.
Riley grins rather sheepishly, ducking his head. "When's there been time before? Considering when we usually get around to seeing each other it's morning."
Clara rubs at her forehead and grimaces while nodding. "Tell me about it. What time are you off work today, anyway? Has Security even noticed you're not in your office yet?"
Riley taps lightly at his radio, "If they have, I haven't heard any comment on it. Still, I guess I'd better head back over there."
Clara's eyes widen into a puppy-doggish wistfulness. "I suppose if you must," she sighs, then grins and squeezes one dress be-uniformed forearm. "I'm off in an hour and a half, thank goodness, and yes, I'll be good and go home. Do you want me to snag dinner and put in the warmer for you for when you get home?"
"An hour and a half?" Riley sounds rather wistful at that. "That's okay. Food and I are still having argumentation."
Clara leaves her hand where it is, smile fading to concern as she peers up at you. "Is something wrong, Riley? What is it? Should I stay later? I've always got more I can do..."
Riley shakes his head, chuckling, "No, no, no, you should go home. I'd just rather like to skeedle in an hour and a half as well. It sounds nice."
Clara quirks a brow, grinning vaguely. "So why don't you? What time did you get to work this morning? I know it had to be close to when I did at oh-dark-hundred. Surely no one's going to hound you for only putting in eight or nine hours."
Riley looks rather sheepishly guilty, shaking his head. "Probably not for that matter. Especially not after the budget. Still, I should at least go order those radios."
Clara shifts in her chair to sit up straight and peer at you and ask dryly, "And this takes more than an hour and a half? Scoot. Go on. Go get your radios ordered, I'll do my counseling session in a bit, and we'll go grab an early dinner when you're done."
Riley levers himself to his feet, nodding. "Will do, love. Will do. Have fun."
Clara rises as well, straightening her lab coat and slipping her hands into the pockets. "Woohoo. Enjoy ordering radios. I'll catch you in a few," she adds with an excessively fond smile.
Riley chuckles quietly, leaning over to attempt to make off with a kiss before heading for the door with the hopes of escaping retribution.
Retribution? Not hardly, unless you count a purely contented sigh as such. Clara does shake her head with a wry grin though before turning to head for her office. Yes, Kramer's smirking. But at least he's theoretically watching his monitor.
Riley heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
You walk towards the Chief Aleron's Office.
SECURITY> Niko gives the comm headset a rather disgusted look as he tucks it back atop his monitor. "Whine, whine, whine," he mumbles. He spots you, then, and offers a grin and a lifted hand. "Hey, if you need anybody to kick diplomats, can I volunteer?"
SECURITY> Riley pads in, waving absently, looking cheerful, but quite bleary. "If it comes up, sure. Right now I'm not too into kicking them. They handed over a better budget."
SECURITY> Niko perks up at that. "Excellent. Good. Better budgets are great. Okay, I'll hold off on kicking them for a while." He peers at you, then. "Go away. Go home. You're still sick, go away."
SECURITY> Riley half-smiles sheepishly at that, gesturing to his office. "I intend to, as soon as I order those new radios. We've waited too long as it is, and that won't take long."
SECURITY> Niko rolls his eyes just a bit. "Look, I can fill out the forms and bring them up for you to sign, or ask Clara to bring them up, or something. I'm perfectly capable of ordering new radios, really."
SECURITY> Armageddon must be nigh, Riley doesn't contest it, instead rummaging on a shelf for a stack of catalog order forms. Snagging a pen he simply signs the bottoms. Yep, this is trust. "Thanks Nick, I'd appreciate it. Don't want to wait any longer on these."
SECURITY> Niko nods as he reaches to take the forms, brows arching just a hair. "No problem. How many will the budget let us have?"
SECURITY> Actually, Niko's brows probably arch more than a hair. That's a lotta eyebrows.
SECURITY> Riley tugs a folder from his mailbox, offering it. "It's all in there. Or the total is. Just rummage through and see how many decent ones you can get for what they allotted us." He's oblivious to brow raising, he's just out of it.
SECURITY> Niko takes the folder and starts to flip through it. "Check, thanks," he murmurs, skimming the first page of figures. Then he looks up with a faint grin. "I've got it under control, and I'll get the order out this afternoon. Go home, rest, all that good stuff."
SECURITY> Riley nods to that, offering a half-salute. "Thanks Nick, I owe you one." Tucking hands into his pockets he heads back out.
SECURITY> Riley heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
[Some time later…]
You walk towards the Medical Bay.
"Aaaack!" This would be the sound made by Clara upon exiting her office only to be pelted by a roll of gauze from Kramer. Predictably, she holds her hands over her head, and pelts out the door, laughing.
You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
You walk towards the Spiraling Stairway.
Corian walks here from the Fourth Floor Elevator Lounge.
Tarrant walks here from the Fourth Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara nods affably in passing on her way up the stairs. "Afternoon, folks."
Corian shakes her head to Tarrant, who is following her, apparently. "Of course not, cha'trez. It would--" She pauses a beat, with a rather surprised smile. "Clara, hello."
Tarrant is indeed following along, although rather quietly, as he's barefoot. He's done that a lot lately. Spotting Clara as well he doffs his non-existant hat with an amused smile, "Afternoon Miz Clara."
Clara continues on up a few stairs to get past, inclining her head with a grin. "You two have a good afternoon. If you'll excuse me? Home calleth," she explains rather cheerfully.
You walk towards the Third Floor Elevator Lounge.
You unlock the door and go into room Z13.
Riley is sprawled on the bed, still in his dress uniform and mostly asleep. As you enter he offers something wavish, "H'lo love. Things okay?"
Clara lets herself in the door before setting her keys to one side on the table and lifts her brows at you in worry as she tugs off her lab coat. Crossing over to sit on the edge of the bed, she lifts her hand to your forehead again. "Fine, sure. Are you feeling worse, love?"
"Feeling rough. But Nick said he'd order the radios. Everything's all done." Riley is doing his dangdest to make sense.
Clara sighs faintly and rises to go fetch her medical bag from the closet before taking it to the kitchen to quietly prep a pair of hypos. She returns to administer both solemnly, then smooths back a few of your curls. "Nutrients and something to help dispel the nausea. Why don't you sleep, hmm?"
"I'm fine, really," Riley shifts an elbow up to start to sit up. "Besides, weren't we going to head out when you got home?"
Clara rolls her eyes at that, attempting to push you back down gently. "We're not doing a thing, love. You don't feel well. Just rest, all right? I don't want you any sicker than you are," she explains with quiet imploring.
Riley shifts back down, not seeming to mind the ridiculous outfit this once, instead just lying still. "I'm resting, I'm resting, honest. I just don't wanna spoil the evening."
Clara runs a hand down your arm to your cuffs, carefully attempting to unbutton them, shaking her head slowly. "There's nothing to spoil, Riley. You're not well. These things are fate. You were fated to live with a doctor."
"Much as I love you, that does complicate things sometimes," Riley murmurs softly, not really being of much help with the cuffs, he's too good at being still. "Very hard to fake being fine so you'll let me take you out to dinner."
Clara half smiles at that, voice carefully comforting. "Well now, don't you worry about that. I'm a big girl and can manage to feed myself, hmm? I'm not hungry anyway," she adds, leaning over cautiously to work at the other cuff.
"It's not the food. It's the getting out of the building," Riely attempts to explain, his words accented, and inertia his friend. "You need to get to get out some. We oughta' be normal people."
"But we're not, Riley," Clara maintains quietly, moving from the loosened cuffs to your tie and collar. "We're department heads, and you're a very ill department head right now. So you should rest."
Riley shivers lightly, although he shifts a hand towards you, resting it against your leg. "Department heads should be normal sometimes. N'I am resting. Not moving, not going anywhere..."
Clara's brow furrows significantly as she lifts a hand to your hair, stifling a sigh before she reaches beyond you to tug the comforter over gently. "You're not getting better," she murmurs. "We'll be normal someday," she adds distractedly, fishing for her scanner.
"After Nick's wedding. A couple days of being normal." Riley shifts down beneath the comforter, actually moving. "Not like normal for good. Just once in a while would be nice."
Clara clicks on the scanner and runs it over your form, regarding the readout with a visible dampening of reaction. "Once in a while, sure," she agrees somewhat vaguely. "Sounds good, love."
Riley seems to notice a bit of your vagueness, despite his own vagueness. He is however confused as to the reason, and pats absently at your leg. "Don't have to be normal if you don't want to."
"Hmm? Oh, being normal's nice. Very good, yes," Clara agrees absently, then sighs and shuts off the scanner to replace it in her belt. "I don't understand this," she mutters, glancing upwards as if for inspiration. She returns to the kitchen for another hypo, then comes back to your side. "Tilt your head and let me get a sample, love? This may be a nasty virus that I'm missing."
Riley shifts his head obligingly, although not without the echo of a wince. "Yes m'lovely vampire. S'nice when the people want to steal your blood are gorgeous redheads."
Clara actually smiles at that, taking the sample deftly before hurrying it back to her medical kit to insert into her portable, which she then links to the room's main computer. She taps in the commands to log into the mainframe in Medbay, then lets it go before returning to you. "Talk to me darling. Is it still your stomach? You're burning up, too..."
"My stomach's okay, pretty much. I don't think I want hot wings, but I don't hate food. Things are just a little on the spinning side." Riley replies quietly, shuddering again slightly. "Can't really get a deep breath."
Clara gives in and rises to fetch her entire medical bag to the bedside, hauling the stethoscope from it to warm the disc before deftly unbuttoning your vest and shirt. "Sorry, love. Don't mean to be overfamiliar," she explains, already trying to listen. "No congestion...but the air's not moving right."
Riley does make some quiet objection to being randomly undressed, he's cold, he liked the vest and jacket. He does add quietly however, "Hey, you randomly taking off my clothing's a good thing. Besides, you're my a'trezla. Not possible to be overfamiliar."
"Maybe someday I'll get to do it for reasons other than medical," Clara jests, although somewhat flatly as she abruptly tucks the stethoscope around the back of her neck and mutters into her comm quietly. "Jones...pulmonary distress. Yes, I know...hypoventilation...monitor, thanks."
Riley blinks several times at the commed conversation, or what snatches he heard, and what of that he even remotely understood. He squeezes your leg gently with the hand resting on it. "Just not at work. Anya'd take a picture."
Clara finally does laugh at that wistfully, resuming her work in removing your clothing from the waist up. "I know you're cold, but we'll pile the blankets on, love. Jones is bringing up a snapscrub shirt for you. And I don't want Anya to take pictures of that. I'd die of embarrassment."
Riley's brows lower rather decidedly at this piece of news, confused, "Scrubs? Jones?" There's a brief pause, "Blankets are good. Anya taking pictures is not. She posts them."
Clara leans down briefly to brush a kiss on your forehead before hurrying to the closet for another few blankets and returns to shake them out and tuck them in about you. "I don't know what's going on yet, Riley, but whatever this is, your body temperature is dropping, your lungs are at 60% efficiency, and you've a dangerously high temperature." Before she can say more, there's a knock at the door and she goes to let Jones in.
Riley just curls down beneath the blanketage, not seeming altogether overconcerned by all this, or rather he's out of it enough not to seem so. "Oh," he replies quietly, blinking a few more times. "Sorry."
Clara leads Jones over to the bed, discussing the various symptoms with him quietly. "And then the respiratory distress started in, along with the mild hypothermia. I've got the pathology report running. If you'll watch his vitals on the ventilator, I'll find out what this is," she adds
Jones nods several times silently before crouching down by the bed. "Heya, Chief. Hear some bug bit you hard."
Riley nods to this somewhat absently, still rather out of it. "I must've offended some bug deity. Maybe I haven't been leaving enough crumbs beneath my desk."
"I'll getcha some special crumbs from Jeanette's meatloaf, hey? Can you sit up a bit so we can get this snap shirt on you?" Jones asks, as always, polite and affable. Clara, in the mean time, has returned to the computer, leaning her hands on the desk as she regards the beginning readout intently.
Riley moves aside several of the blankets carefully, shifting to sit upright, perhaps less than steadily, but he manages it after a pause. "Sure, sure, can be done. Sorry about all this."
"Aaah, not a problem, Chief," Jones offers, assisting with the shirt and undoing a few of the snaps to start attaching electrodes. "Now, Doc says you're having problems breathing?" he asks, starting to undo some tubing from the side of the machine he'd brought in. Clara's still studying, and from the set of her shoulders to anyone who knows her, is utterly livid.
Riley blinks briefly Clara-ward, looking a bit worriedly chagrined, he's in trouble, yup. He half nods to Jones, getting an arm back in an attempt to prop himself up. "Yeah, can't get a deep breath."
"Hey, just lay down, sir," Jones admonishes affably, finally undraping the tubing and clicking on a section of the monitor to start the oxygen flow. "Lets just get this under your nose, and you should be fine for now, hmm?"
"Damn blast it!" Clara finally mutters, slapping a hand on the desk. "I should have known."
Riley shifts back down to lie down, more than willing to do so, and not objecting to oxygen being introduced. Clara's outburst however garners a startled glance. "D'I get to hide behind you?" He asks Jones quietly.
Jones smirks affably and moves to settle in front of Riley, just enough to the side so he doesn't hinder the view of Clara turning about with an expression about as darkly angry as she gets, although controlling it nicely. "We have another case of poisoning on our hands," she explains in a dangerously sweet tone.
Riley offers Jones a vaguely thankful if half-sheepish look. He does blink however at Clara, looking rather puzzled. "Not sick then?"
Clara reaches back to unhook her portable and bring it over to the bedside, sinking to the edge beside where Jones is crouched and showing him the results. "You are sick, darling, but someone spiked you with cyanatic hypothalidrine." She reaches a hand up to take one of yours while Jones scans the portable. "Doc? You do know...?"
Riley carefully interlaces his fingers through yours, although it's a fumblefingered attempt at best. "That was terribly rude of them," he half-muses, still sounding rather understandably out of it. "Terribly rude indeed." He blinks generally Jones-wards at the cut off question.
Clara gives Jones a rather pensive nod, eyes closing for a moment. The larger doctor rises to his feet and squeezes her shoulder briefly before leaving the room, quiet for a man his size. "Terribly rude, love. Did you go anywhere but the meeting today?"
"My rounds," Riley replies quietly, blinking a few more times as Jones exits. He shifts closer to you. "All around the building. Not easy, sorry."
Clara seems rather grateful to have you closer, lifting her free hand to brush the backs of her fingers along your jaw. "Doesn't matter now," she murmurs, searching your face. "See...Greg, there's no antidote for cyanatic hypothalidrine."
There's a rather bleary pause at that, and it takes Riley a moment to process the information. "That's not a good thing," he finally says, sounding perhaps a bit startled.
Clara's lips quirk, although she can't seem to manage a smile as her hand moves up past the tubing into your hair. "No. No, it's a bad thing. Still, if we can pull you through the next hour and keep you awake..." She leans forward to attempt a gentle kiss. "I love you, Greg. You'll be fine."
Riley returns the kiss as best he can, offering a half-chuckle. "Hey, if you're gonna keep handing out kisses, you think I'm going to sleep?" He shifts a hand up less than steadily to your leg again, seeking the contact.
Clara ventures a wan smile at that, scooting a bit farther onto the bed to rest flush against you, still brushing fingers through your hair. "As many kisses as you want, my love. Forever and ever, certainly. If it'll keep you awake. Of course, there's always that helmetful of cold water..."
Riley's eyes do however try to edge close, although he forces them back open. "Think I'll give that a skip if I can avoid it. I've already got cold down. Besides, it'd get the bed soggy."
Clara tenses at the near eye closing, and decides that the tactics used before worked well enough, so she kisses you again. "Riley, stay awake, love. Don't go, please. Stay," she urges emphatically. "I won't toss water on you. Not when we've been getting along so swimmingly," she adds, eyes wide with innocence.
Riley returns the kiss, once again rather clumsily, shifting all the closer to you. "I'm awake, honest, sorry...Just so very tired. But I'm awake." There's a half groan, "Bad pun, -bad- pun..."
Clara can't quite look as smug as she usually does after a pun, but does at least smile down at you, leaning down slightly to be all the closer. "I know you're tired, darling. The drug tightens down your lungs, keeping you from getting air, and then encourages a chain reaction in your system. Still, if you'll just stay an hour, your kidneys can start filtering it harmlessly."
"Quite exceptionally rude of whoever. Really rude, they need to be kicked." Riley muses softly, "Feels better now though with the oxygen. Jones is nicer than Vryce."
"Yeah," Clara agrees, half laughing through the word as she continued to run her fingers through various chocolate colored curls. "Jones is a dear. Can you think of anyone you came in close contact with today? What did you eat or drink?"
Riley considers this a moment, "I had coffee in the dining hall. How close is close?" He squeezes at your leg again, somewhat weakly.
Clara leans down a bit more to venture another kiss, half smiling. "Maybe not quite this close, but close enough to touch, to tag you with a minihypo. Did you get your coffee from the vending machine? Or were you with someone?"
Clara grimaces slightly, fighting the temptation to rest her head on your chest and continuing to toy with your hair. "Forty-five minutes," she murmurs, then sighs. "Then there's no fast way to tell. Maybe you can investigate it when you're better, hmm?"
"Sounds good, after I'm better and get a nap. I do get to nap -eventually-, right?" Riley's tone is half-heartedly teasing. "Cause otherwise this could get kinda silly."
Clara does lean an elbow on your chest lightly, resting her head in that hand and giving you a highly amused look. "No, dear. You have to stay awake for all eternity. Yes you get to take a nap, silly." She flickers a glance over at the monitor. "How did you sleep last night?"
"Like normal for lately, I think. I don't remember offhand." Riley half smiles at you, bringing up a half-shaking arm to wrap around you. "Hey, fancy meeting you in a place like this."
Clara looks faintly dismayed, but leaves the puzzle of poor sleep alone before laughing and leaning her head to one side to nuzzle your arm. "Imagine that," she murmurs, then suddenly tenses. "Lady Harriston! I have to call her and cancel tonight!"
Riley shakes his head lightly, gesturing, "Nah, s'okay, go, I'll be fine. I'm wide awake."
Clara raises a brow at you, then rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she pulls away and moves to tap in a combination to the comm. For several moments, she converses quietly, giving regrets and that sort of thing before returning. "Done. No arguments, Addison. I get to stay home and torture you."
Riley looks perhaps a bit relieved at that, reshifting his arm around you and holding you as tightly as he can manage. "Torture away, though this seems to be bad timing as well as rude."
"Bad timing?" Clara replies, somewhat surprised as she resumes her position half across your chest. She's keeping you warm, really. "Is there ever a good time to be poisoned? Hello, Assassins-R-Us? Yes, I'd like to make an appointment for late summer? Oh, yes, that's just fine. Ta-ta!"
"Yeah, but the thing, you were s'posed to go to the thing." Riley doesn't seem to object to you providing warmth, he seems to be quite fond of the idea in fact. "This isn't something I could've gotten into by accident?"
Clara exhales a soft sigh, running her fingers along the neckline of the snapshirt. "No, love. It's not exactly a common substance, and it only has one purpose...and that's malicious. Ages ago, it was used as a pesticide on the initial colonies, and no one could figure out why the mortality rate was so high at first. Check your list of controlled substances when you get well. It'll be there."
"S'a -long- list," Riley says softly, shivering somewhat. "Yeah, will look later...yeah. Tons of tons of tons of things..."
Clara purses her lips, glancing briefly at her chrono. "It's been an hour," she says softly, and looks back to you with sudden fear firmly clamped down as she tucks the blankets more firmly about your arms. "Just relax, love. I'll keep you warm. You'll be fine, I know you will."
"An hour, see, and I'm still here, I'm fine, no worries." Riley replies quietly, not looking likely to object to the blankets. "I can nap now?"
Clara is quiet for several long moments, watching you guardedly before she nods and brushes a hand up over your forehead and through your hair. "Yes, love. You can sleep now," she replies quietly.
Riley sighs in decided relief, his eyes sinking slowly shut and curling closer to you. "Thanks love. See, everything's just fine, just fine. M'not going anywhere."
Clara slips her hand back down behind one ear to rest gently against your neck, unobtrusively keeping monitor on your pulse by touch. "Of course you're not," she agrees placidly, keeping near panic walled up with architecture plans from Fort Knox. "Just rest. I will be here when you wake."
Riley curls in close to you for warmth before falling still to sleep solidly.
Clara does a tap routine to "Fascinating Rhythm". Ah, but you're asleep, and miss the whole thing. ;)
Riley always misses all the good stuff. Yeesh.
Time passes, it has a way of doing that, if it didn't, well... We'd be really confused wouldn't we? Riley stirs absently, brushing at the tubing across his face. "Wouldn't go anywhere..."
Clara wasn't sleeping, but she was caught in a rather unpleasant circling of fairly frightening thoughts. At your words, her eyes focus and widen as she utters a half-choked laugh and leans to rest her head on your chest and hug. "I know you won't," she murmurs.
Riley attempts to return the hug, linking his arms around you. "Mine," he murmurs quietly. "Just in case anybody tries to claim otherwise."
Clara rubs her cheekbone lightly on your chest, eyes closed delightedly at the returned hug. "Yours. Only one that'll put up with me. Poor man," she replies, relief in every syllable.
"I think you've got that twisted around, love. I'm the pain." Riley's still slightly shaking hand is brought up the brush gently at your curls, smoothing them. "I feel less scruffy though."
"Not a pain. Wonderful, glorious, perfect man," Clara counters rather firmly, lifting her head to peer up at you thoughtfully. "I didn't think you'd wake up," she admits quietly. "I was frightened."
"Told you I wouldn't go anywhere, and I meant it," Riley says softly, shifting enough to kiss you gently atop the head.
Clara closes her eyes again for a moment, sighing softly. "You did. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you," she offers contritely, then attempts to return this kiss, albeit a bit more directly. "Let me up? I'd like to get my scanner."
Riley does release you, all though somewhat reluctantly, "I'm hard to kill, see. I love you too much."
Clara crouches by the side of the bed to recover her scanner, then pauses to lean her folded arms on the edge and tilt her head at you thoughtfully. "This is three times you've pulled through, do you realize that? Do you really think it's because of love?"
"Couldn't go anywhere without you. So's only logical." Riley's eyes half-close, although he still makes an attempt to watch you. "Wouldn't want to be anywhere without you."
Clara shakes her head faintly, bemused, but certainly still thrilled that you can even talk. She shifts back up to sit beside you and fire up her scanner. "And that would be one place I couldn't follow you," she agrees quietly.
"So see, I can't go off and die. It wouldn't work." Riley seems to think this makes perfect sense, half-grinning at you.
Clara actually grins at that, shaking her head an flickering a glance up at the ceiling before resuming the scan. "Silly man. No, you can't go off and die. A part of me would die with you," she explains gently. "My a'trez," she adds, eyes on the readout.
"So no worries, everything turns out in the end." Riley does still seem disinclined to move, just working with inertia as a base concept. "So do I still have all my body parts or did I misplace some at random?"
Clara pauses in the scanning to lift up the blanket and peer underneath somewhat upside downly, then drops it again and resumes scanning. "They seem to all be there, at least. Do you -think- you left a few somewhere? I don't -remember- seeing any random Riley-bits about today."
Riley snickers softly, moving a hand enough to gesture to the scanner. "I figured you and the wonder-gadget might know."
Clara laughs easily, snapping off the gadget in question before setting it to one side and resting a hand on your chest. "The wonder gadget says you're all in one bit. Me, I'll wait till you're feeling better to find out. How's your chest? Breathing easier?"
Riley half nods to that, "Feels better than before, yeah." His brows half furrow a moment. "Have to remember to thank Jones."
"Later love," Clara suggests, rising easily to remove her medical belt on the way to the closet. "Feel like eating at all tonight? Or do you think you'd rather just rest?" she calls from within there.
"I'm not hungry, but I'm not un-hungry either, if that makes any sense. M'happy either way." Riley shifts to watch you as best he can.
Clara takes a few moments to change out of her uniform before starting to remove hairpins while quietly murmuring into her comm. She finally comes out in sweats and t-shirt, hair loose about her shoulders and grinning. "How about you try a glass of water, I dose you up with another glucose hypo, and then cuddle up next to you?"
"This sounds like a wonderful plan to me," Riley replies, absently tugging at a blanket. "Cuddling's good."
Clara takes a moment to retrieve said glass of water and returns to offer it to you before rummaging in her bag to prep another hypo. "That's because you're a romantic sap. I, for one, am immensely glad, too."
Riley shifts up, accepting the glass and sipping from it. "Hey, sappy's good. I like being sappy, I was designed that way I guess."
Clara reaches up to administer the hypo, then curls her hand to brush the back of it at your jaw, smiling fondly. "Sappy, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome. Some women have all the luck. Do you think you can drink the whole glass?"
"Sappy, yeah, I think I'll have to pass on the others. Scarcely either of those." Riley sips from the glass again, considering, "I can surely try."
Clara hmpfs softly, tucking the spent hypo away before crawling over to the other side of the bed. "I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. Are you criticizing my taste in men?" she queries in mock-loftiness.
"Yes," Riley replies teasingly, snickering quietly as he makes an attempt at glass drainage. "I am."
Clara waggles her fingers at your ribs, but doesn't connect, since she'd rather see the water in you instead of spluttered all over the comforter. She crawls under the blankets easily, snickering. "Hey, I have better taste than you do."
Riley hmphs at that, settling the now empty glass aside to sink down into the bed again with a yawn. "Not even... -I- have a wonderfully beautiful punny reheadedly beautiful sweet Clara." His accent has thickened, making the vowels long.
Clara takes advantage of this to snuggle in at your side, one arm resting possessively across your chest. "Evil, tormenting, stubborn doctor, you mean," she corrects with amusement. Yes, she's in a -far- better mood now.
Riley snuggles in closer, tugging the blankets up to a comfortable level. "That too. And wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. So good to me."
"Mmm. Need to isolate the compliment factor in that drug," Clara decides, wriggling into a more comfortable position half sprawled across you. "I could get really spoiled by this."
"Not the drug. S'you," Riley shifts his arms around you as best he can manage, already have drowsing.
Clara tilts her chin up to venture a gentle kiss at your jawline before settling back in again, eyes drifting closed easily. "Much nicer than a tea party. In my Greg's arms, and he's going to be all right. But now he should sleep," she murmurs.
"Sleep's good," Riley murmurs, catching on to at least that much, words heavily slurred. "Warm Clara..." And with that he drifts off with alacrity.
"S'what I'm here for," is Clara's faint whisper before she too falls silent, perhaps not sleeping at first, but certainly immobile with waves of relief dragging her down towards a nap as well.