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[In the library]
Corian arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Corian, absorbed in whatever is on her datapad, and murmuring in a rather liquid-sounding language, makes her way to one of the shelves. Apparently, it's a work-related trip to the library.
Clara is seated at one edge of a couch against one wall and painstakingly reading a datareader, a line creased between her brows in concentration. Her legs are tucked up beneath her, civilian clothing broken out for the day.
Corian finds whatever it is she came to get, apparently, as she claims a text from the shelf and heads over to the--oh, no, that couch is occupied. She watches you for a moment, then decides not to interrupt, instead perching on the other edge of the couch to page through the text.
The movement is caught out of the corner of Clara's eyes and she blinks up owlishly from the datareader before a warm smile appears. "Afternoon, Corian," she offers quietly. "Working?" she asks, nodding at the text.
Corian inclines her head, looking up from her work with a smile. "I am, yes--a translation for the Asanian delegation. And you?"
Clara wrinkles her nose down at the datapad, although there's a decidedly fond glint to her eyes. "Not exactly. More Kashidian," she explains, gesturing with the reader. "I imagine my brain will be tofu in a half hour or so."
Corian chuckles very quietly, a certain understanding look in her eyes. "Is there anything that I can do to assist? In the Kashidian, I mean. I have no skills at turning brains to tofu."
Clara gives the datapad a considering look while grinning. "No, turning brains to tofu is my job. Or maybe that's helping them turn from tofu back to something else." She turns the reader toward you and taps at one line. "Actually, yes. Is this a separable verb? And does the prefix go a the end of the sentence in use?"
Corian glances at the indicated line. "Unfortunately," she says, with a quick smile, "This is one of those times where regional grammar comes into play. Where the family is--which is, I assume, the particular variety of grammar which you would prefer to learn--the prefix goes just after the noun, except in a few special cases that most people in that region prefer to ignore. And it is a separable verb, yes."
Clara returns to peering at the word, then carefully uses it in a sentence of the 'my pencil is blue and named Barbara' type before glancing up questioningly. "Is the 'tr' combination right? Or is it softer? Riley's generally so tired when he uses it, it's hard for me to tell..."
Corian repeats the sentence, with a subtle correction in the pronunciation. "And again, there are individual variations, because of geography, and of personal preference."
Clara watches intently at the correction, then repeats it again softly, then half grins. "I appreciate this. It's hard to keep my native accent out of normal speech, let alone this...but Riley doesn't seem to mind me learning." She exhales a gust of air upwards, bangs blowing up lightly, then grins. "But I'm keeping you from your work...and you'll want to get it done and get home to that husband of yours ASAP, I'm sure."
Corian nods her understanding of the accent difficulties, murmuring, "That takes time--and I would be very surprised if Riley minded." She pauses a beat, looking wistful and lonely and all sorts of missing-one's-husband kind of things for a moment. "Actually, Tarrant had to go off-planet again," she says quietly, glancing back to her text.
"Oh, Corian...I'm so sorry," Clara offers with true sympathy. "He'll be home soon, I hope?" she adds, tilting her head in concern.
Corian nods once more, with a faint smile. "It should be only three days," she replies. "Though I have to say that it seems like three days too long."
Clara can't help but smile understandingly at that, nodding. "When it was time for Riley's review, twelve hours was too long. I think it must be the distance, since it's often for us to go days and only see the other asleep." She pauses, then lowers her voice in vast amusement. "Did you hide the book?"
Corian nods emphatically, with a quiet chuckle. "Ah, yes, I most certainly did--though that is only because Xalin and Tirisa came over this afternoon, and it is hardly something their mother would like for them to see. Tarrant saw the book," she adds, with a blush. "It was... well, very explicit."
Clara's eyes widen as she nods with a wry, quiet laugh. "Not something for children, certainly not." She lifts her brows at the explanation, almost thoughtful. "And did he turn nearly as red as you are?" she asks, teasing, but in a kindly way.
Corian nods, with the quietest of laughs. "My husband is very gifted as far as blushing goes," she replies. "In fact, he turned more red than I am now. Some of those pictures," she adds, voice hushed, "Looked -awfully- uncomfortable. And some of them -must- have been taken in null-g."
Clara blinks owlishly at this, brow starting to furrow slightly as she actually tries to bend her imagination in that direction, and ends up turning herself a rather nice shade of dark reddish copper. "It would be quiet an...environment for such. Goodness. Then again, just allowing pictures taken would be, er, disquieting?"
Corian nods firmly to that, her own blush speaking her embarrassment more clearly than words ever could. "Goodness, yes. I can't imagine anyone else even -seeing- that, let alone taking pictures of it. It is -private-."
Clara adds her own rather definite nod to that, then pauses in thought before choosing her words carefully, voice quiet around a small smile. "The...experiment...was successful, then? I ask both as a doctor and as a friend," she adds reassuringly.
Corian considers her response for a long moment. "I think," she says finally, "That it will take a few more times for me to appreciate it fully. But the closeness of it... that was wonderful." And her smile is content, and decidedly wistful as well. Yes, she misses him, very much. She shakes her head, then, with a quiet chuckle. "And there is part of me that is just relieved that it has been done, though I know tht Hona will now tease me for details."
Clara joins in the quiet laughter, completely sympathetic and nodding down at her reader without really looking at it. "If it will help at all...I don't think practice makes perfect in this situation. It simply makes it better consistently throughout time." She flashes a sheepish grin. "I still need to call her. Not tonight...perhaps tomorrow though."
Corian nods to your advice, expression thoughtful. "It does not need to be perfect," she replies, with a smile. "It is us. That is enough." There is another nod for your final statement. "And the offer of the use of my comm is always open, of course, for when you ask her about Riley's youth. If you wish to combine the two," she adds, with a quiet chuckle, "I can just hide for that part."
Clara traces a line over the top of the datareader, a small smile of insanely sappy contentment in place for a moment as she nods at the assessment, likely infusing the poor walls with sugar. She inhales a fond sigh that breaks into a laugh. "Somehow I get the feeling this is going to be a conversation we'll need to stock up on iced tea and popcorn for."
Corian leans back in her chair, amusement replacing her own rather plaintively wistful look. "I do believe that you are right about that," she agrees, with a short laugh. "I do hope that Hona will assist us with this--though I honestly do not see why she would not."
Clara unfolds her legs from off to one side, only to resettle tailor fashion to rest her elbows on her knees and grin. "You know what's so odd? Yes, I'm looking forward to just how hilarious I think this is going to be, but...I'm also really looking forward to learning more about Riley."
Corian shakes her head at that, with a warm smile. "Clara, it is not odd at all, in my opinion. I have been promised similar stories about Tarrant when we go to visit his family, and I feel exactly the same way about it. There is that which they would not think to tell us, but that we would find fascinating."
"That's it exactly, yes," Clara agrees, almost gratefully. "I could find out little things like...oh, maybe Riley smeared blueberry yogurt all over the kitchen when he was two. That would be just so precious to know, but it's hardly something he'd tell me."
Corian nods her agreement to that, with a quick smile. "And this is why it is best that we ask -Honalee- about him," she adds. "After all, she has spent far more time with him than I have."
Clara chuckles affably, clicking off the datareader. "Not to mention, she'd be more likely to remember if he even -liked- blueberry yogurt at the age of two." She pauses, then laughs. "For that matter, I have no clue if he likes it now. Either way, I'd best get home for a bit. I need to put a comm through to Earth." She rises and smiles down affably. "Good luck with the work," she offers.
Corian nods amiably, offering a quick smile. "Thank you. And enjoy your evening."
Clara offers a quick wave of the datareader holding hand and a smile, then hurries out the door, boots silent on the carpeted floor.
You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.