|
|
Your communit crackles to life and announces "Clara? Do you have a moment or two? I just have a few questions, and they can wait, of course." in Corian's voice.
You say "Hmm? Oh...just a sec." A short pause. "Yes, I'm free. Just got off shift, actually." Somewhat muffled is her voice saying 'Afternoon Vryce. You look like you're feeling better' before she comes back. "What's up, mon ami?"" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and announces "I am sorry, you very likely explained this, but... well, why did that happen, last night? My memories of what happened are somewhat scattered, yet." in Corian's voice.
You say "I'm not surprised in the slightest. Have you eaten yet? If not, perhaps we can discuss it over lunch?" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and announces "I have, yes--that much, I did remember. But I could keep you company while you eat, if you like? I can always have some tea--one can never have too much tea." in Corian's voice.
You say "Tea is an essential fact of life," is the cheerful agreement. "Would you care to meet in the dining hall, then?" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "Of course, that sounds splendid. Just give me a moment to change clothing, and I will be there." in Corian's voice.
You say "I'll see you down there, then." into the communit.
[Travel from Medbay to Dining Hall snipped]
Corian arrives from the Central Atrium.
Clara is coming away from one of the lines with a tray, and she shifts it to one arm to give a quick wave to the taller woman. "Corian...there's a table over there," she calls, heading for a smallish table and sliding into a seat.
Corian pauses long enough to claim a mug of herbal tea, then follows after Clara to sit across from her at the smallish table. "Thank you for coming up last night," she says, looking rather sheepish. "I do appreciate it."
Aliana arrives from the Central Atrium.
Clara pokes her fork at the oddish looking oblong dish, mixing up the various cheeses and seafood bits while smiling warmly. "Not to worry, not a bit. Are you feeling better then?"
Aliana pauses at the doorway...moving to her tiptoes as she tries to peer about. Giving up after a moment, she hops onto a chair and peers. Even then she does not see whom she is looking for, but she does see some people she recognizes and offers a cheery wave before she hops down.
Corian nods to that, fingers curling lightly around her mug. "Much better, yes, thank you. That was somewhat... disconcerting." She hated the treatment, though, horrible awful stuff. Ordinarily she'd return Aliana's cheery wave with a smile, of course, but she's not seated at an angle to see her well.
Clara glances up from the etoufee to nod amiably at Aliana then tilts her head at Corian sympathetically. "I can imagine so. I hope the...suggested treatment wasn't taken amiss?" she offers sheepishly. "It just seemed easiest..."
Corian shakes her head at that, her expression taking on a hint of amusement. "It certainly was not taken amiss, no." After a brief pause, she adds, smile holding some reassurance, "That is not quite the first time we have intentionally slept so, Clara." Yeah. It was the second.
Aliana pads a bit closer, mostly to see if she would be an interruption...overhearing a bit of the conversation she decides to settle at a nearby table with a view to the doorway. She mutters softly to herself.
Clara glances up from her lunch, brows quirking up, although the expression is decidedly pleased. "Oh, thank goodness. Very good then. I felt so bad about suggesting a situation that might be uncomfortable." She takes a bite to quell the thought. "Now, you had some questions?"
Corian's cheeks color just the slightest bit. "That aspect of it was certainly not uncomfortable, no," she murmurs, with a smile. "And I had questions, yes. Why did it happen? I do not believe this has happened to me in the past, and I would rather like to prevent it in the future."
Aliana pulls out a small packet from her pack, opening it to reveal several stuffed mushrooms. Her attention seems focused on the door, occasionally she does glance at the other table, but she seems to be making an effort not to eavesdrop.
Clara ahs softly and sets her fork down to gesture with her hands as if to describe an arc. "Given your genetic heritage, like your brother, you've already an excessive metabolic rate. Now, normally the ev'lis merely provides the extra alertness needed. It combines with the glucose in the system to push extra oxygen to the rest of the system. But without food to counteract it, there's an overproduction of insulin in the system, causing jitteriness, inability to sleep, hypothermia. A hypoglycemic reaction, in other words."
Corian nods slowly to that, expression thoughtful. "So it is the combination of the two that I should avoid, yes," she murmurs. "If I had known that I was going to go to Edor, though," she adds, with a faint grimace, "I likely would have avoided the ev'lis. I still do need to discuss that with the Jansites. Such a lack of warning hardly seems proper, especially as they know my eating habits."
Clara nods sympathetically, taking another bite of her lunch. "I'd have to agree. At least to let you know enough to pack something to take with you to eat. The jumps through hyper were probably the catalysts, by the way, making your body work even harder."
Aliana carefully cuts up one of the mushrooms, only the thoughtful expression on her face betrays the fact that she may be actually listening...that and an occasionally glance that way, or perhaps she is just looking out the window.
"I had thought," Corian says, with a grimace and a nod, "That we were going to Jansi, which is close enough that going through hyper would not be required." The brief look at the diplomatic facility suggests that things will not go well for the Jansites when Corian has this particular discussion. She does spot Aliana as she does the looking, though, and offers a brief smile before turning back to Clara. "The experience was, for the most part, quite unpleasant."
Aliana's smile is warm, despite the rather guilty look on her face as she returns Corian's. Attention returns to the doorway with an impatient sigh.
Clara shakes her head with a soft sigh, brushing back her bangs lightly after a smile at Aliana as well. "Why in the name of purple peanut butter did they reroute you then? Was there actually an assignment for you on Edor?"
Corian's brows lift. "Purple peanut butter," she murmurs. "The children would prefer that, to be sure." But then she gets back on track, and nods. "Oh, of course. Their Premier's meeting had been on Edor all along. The Edori k'lenest does not speak either Standard or Jansite, though, and they did not trust the Edori translators. But none of their people speak Edori, either. So they asked me for this favor, implying that the meeting would be on Jansi."
Clara rolls her eyes with a frustrated exhalation of sigh. "Naturally. These are the reasons I hide in my nice, safe Medbay, to avoid red tape and bureaucracy. Perhaps you could keep a kit of non-perishable vegetarian food ready with your travel bag? C-rations or protein bars. Not pleasant, but certainly better than the options..."
Corian nods thoughtfully to that. "An excellent suggestion, yes, thank you. I used to do that, back when I traveled more frequently, but have gotten out of the habit these last several months." She rubs lightly at her eyes for a moment, then, after sipping at her tea, observes, "Though I should have pressed for more details--should have known better than to go only on implications."
"Maybe they were worried you wouldn't come otherwise?" Ali asks quietly. Opps, so much for not eavesdropping.
Clara munches a cheese sauced bit of onion and scallop, giving Ali a faint grin as if to say she hasn't been fooled a bit the whole time. "She has a point, Corian. Politicians are sneaky hyperworms, prone to getting their way."
Corian casts a brief smile to Aliana. "That is a possibility, of course--though the favor was more of a deal--I do this for them, they do something for me." She shakes her head fractionally. "It is entirely possible that they did not believe I would go to Edor. Of course, asking me would be far too straightforward."
Aliana offers them both a grateful smile, turning to make conversation easier...yet still keeping an eye on the doorway. 'I don't think diplomats like to do anything the straightforward way.'
Clara scrapes up the last of her lunch, then reaches for her coffee and nods thoughtfully, regarding the Edreeni woman. "The appointment?" she asks quietly, a soft smile in place. "Did you get it, then?"
Corian nods to Aliana's words. "Some of them do, one cannot generalize, but I do have to say that, as a rule, those are few and far between." At Clara's inquiry, she shakes her head, a brief look of frustration crossing her face. "Not yet. They did not mention it after the meeting yesterday, and I was... aware that I should probably get home, and so did not press the issue."
Aliana glances back at her mushrooms consideringly for a few moments as if debating if she wants anymore...apparently the answer is yes, for she carefully cuts up another of them.
Corian's communit crackles to life and blares "... I... the... you... doin'." in Tarrant's voice.
Aliana glances at Corian as she hears a voice, then her gaze moves back to the doorway with an impatient frown.
Corian sets aside her tea mug and fumbles for her comm-unit.
Corian says "Did everything go well, cha'trez? And I do hope you did not go back to my quarters, as I am not there. I am in the dining facility, keeping Clara company while she eats--and I am feeling much better, thank you." into her communit.
Clara glances up as well, brows lifting at the comm. "Sounds like someone's missing you," she notes quietly.
Corian glances back to Clara with a quick, restrained-from-being-sappy smile. "He had to leave suddenly, earlier, you see."
Corian's communit crackles to life and says "... had the chance yet." Gee,... cheerful... a... of... "Just... were... had to... of there..." in Tarrant's voice.
Clara's smile brightens significantly as she sips at her coffee, eyes dancing. "It's always difficult to...leave such a situation," she agrees, not -quite- as restrained, of course. No, more in the realm of tweeting birds.
Aliana glances between the two, eyes dancing as her own expression brightens at the thought of someone.
Corian says "I am doing just fine, cha'trez, and thank you for asking. I understand about the haste, of course." into her communit.
Corian's communit crackles to life and blares "... well..." in Tarrant's voice.
Corian casts a brief, fond look upwards. No, she's not suddenly gotten religious, she's looking in the general direction of Tarrant's quarters. Turning her attention back to the others, she simply nods, taking up her tea. Her expression grows rather thoughtful.
Aliana finally can no longer restrain her curiosity and she turns to Clara and asks, 'How was your picnic the other day?'
Oh, dear. Now -there's- a question to up the sappiness quotient in the room. Clara leans back in her chair, exhaling a contented sigh about a purely insipid smile. "Absolutely lovely. Perfect. Gorgeous. The food was spectacular too."
Corian inquires, gaze shifting between the other two, "Picnic?"
Aliana just beams at that, 'Rhys gets all the credit for that, I was in Barrister.' She pauses to sigh happily, 'He likes doing those kinds of things.'
Clara's smile, if anything, brightens as she beams at Aliana. "I have the dishes from it up in our room, all packed back in the basket and clean. Rhys does amazing things to pasta." Corian gets a lazy, delighted nod. "Rhys and Julie plotted to get Riley and I racing down to the lakeside for an emergency. We get there, and there's a tablecloth on that rock we sat on the other day, candles, wine, pasta, and sunset."
Corian ohs softly, a warm smile crossing her face. "That must have been wonderful for the two of you. How thoughtful!"
"Rhys does many amazing things." Ali notes softly, chin resting on the palm of her hand as she looks in the direction of the spaceport.
Clara laces her fingers about her mug, still lost in a lovestricken fog. Is it any wonder nearby diplomats are edging away? "He's a great cook. I threatened to see if I could marry him too," she adds with a grin, obviously joking.
Aliana giggles softly, 'I think Riley might object to that one...But I am sure he wouldn't mind giving you cooking lessons.'
Corian starts to say something, but then her comm snags her attention, and continues to do so for however long it takes to make the super cheese sauce.
Clara can't help but echo the laugh, shaking her head contentedly. "Nah, he asked if he made pasta if I'd marry him. Silly man. Still, I might at least get a manicotti dinner out of it."
Aliana chuckles softly, "Perhaps you and Riley could come for dinner one night?'
This seems to drag Clara a bit closer to reality as she offers an almost wistful nod. "I'd like that. Hopefully our schedules would agree to it. It's not often that we have time off at the same time."
Aliana pauses for a moment, a frown crossing her face. "Perhaps you should make time...are your jobs your whole life?'
Clara considers that for a long moment over another sip of coffee, then shrugs. "Not exactly. The Fleet is, to an extent. It not really that it's everything, but rather that we pull long hours. Hopefully that's changing, though."
Aliana leans forward slightly, considering the Doctor thoughtfully. "I am perhaps the last person to speak of duty...I know about Riley and his oaths of honour...But you each have a duty to each other, a duty that is just as important as the one you have to your jobs." She pauses to settle back in her chair...watching the doctor carefully.
Clara actually flashes up a grin at that, nose wrinkling. "You're preaching to the choir, my friend. I know this, already. And we do spend time together, I promise."
Aliana chuckles softly, 'Sleeping doesn't count.'
Clara snickers softly, shaking her head. "I meant other than sleeping. Goodness. Life will likely settle a bit after Niko and Ela return from their honeymoon."
Long distance to Kris: Clara grins. I had way too much time on my hands.
Aliana smiles, 'Good.' She notes before finishing off her mushroom, "Have they decided where they would like to go?'
Corian takes her attention finally from her comm-unit with a sigh and a vaguely annoyed look, though her attention is caught by Aliana's question.
Clara gestures with her coffee in an inexact direction. "They're taking the Peregrine out for a time, then going back to Hellas, to my knowledge."
Aliana sighs mistily, 'That does sound nice.' She pauses for a moment, 'Any chance of you and Riley escaping after they get back?'
Clara shrugs vaguely at the question, draining the last of her coffee. "Honestly? I haven't a clue. We had a vacation recently, so I don't know if it's an option." She tilts her head sympathetically at Corian. "Work being evil?"
Aliana ducks her head in apology, 'I hadn't realized...Shows you how much I keep up with things on the second floor.'
Corian inquires curiously, taking up her lukewarm tea, "The Peregrine? And... rather, yes, but it is nothing I cannot ignore."
Clara offers Aliana a kindly smile. "Ah, not to worry. It was..." She thinks a moment. "Almost five months ago, so an easily lost time." She nods affably at Corian. "Our boat. Double master, forty-two foot kestral class." The affection for the craft is unmistakable in her voice.
Aliana oohhs, 'G'Ben was telling me about that...He wants to learn to sail.'
Corian ahhs softly, her expression clearing. "The boat. Yes, Riley mentioned it. But 'almost five months ago' hardly counts as just having a vacation, not in my book."
Clara beams at the mention of the boy. "I'd be more than glad to teach him, certainly," she decides, then blinks at Corian in surprise. "It doesn't?" She really is surprised. Who needs a vacation more than once every year or two?
A complex functionary comes strolling in. Pausing at the door he yells out, 'ALIANA!' To which Ali jumps to her feet and waves, 'Be right there!' She calls back. Turning to the other two, "I have a delivery to one of the Steadings...if you will excuse me?'
Corian shakes her head. "The trip only lasted a few days, yes? A few days out of five months does not, no." She blinks at the bellowing functionary, murmuring something about rudeness, then nods to the Bonded. "Of course, and do enjoy the trip."
Clara furrows her brows at the bellow, but nods to Ali. "Certainly. My best to Islien, Ali. Good day." She tilts her head thoughtfully, then nods. "We went for two days. Poor Niko, he'd just been made XO. Goodness, it was hard enough for him without Riley there."
Aliana grins as she pads off, taking the packet carefully before sprinting off...apparently it is needed.
Aliana heads towards the Central Atrium.
Corian nods to that, sympathetic enough. "But it has been five months, as you say. He is much more used to the job, now." After a moment of consideration, she says, "You took two days of five months for vacation. That is just over one percent of the time. I do believe you should attempt another." Her smile is quick. "You see, before I took up the job just before this one, five months was a bit over my average stay on each planet. And I tried to take at least a few days each trip to sightsee."
Clara taps at the rim of her coffee cup thoughtfully, almost wistful. "We had a really, really wonderful time last time," she notes tentatively. "And he did mention spending some time on the beach. I just figured he was half asleep when he mentioned it though."
Corian suggests, with an amused smile, "Ask him again sometime, perhaps, when he is awake?"
"Maybe," Clara capitulates, still thinking. "I might. I'm fine, actually. He's the one who could probably do with some time off." Hello kettle. "Still, last night was sort of like a vacation," she explains, grin returning. "We even got to see the sunset. I'd almost forgotten that it does that on a regular basis."
Corian just looks at you for a moment. "Of course, Clara," she says blandly. "You have absolutely no need of a vacation. Would Riley say the same about himself?" She shakes her head slowly, setting down her tea mug. "Perhaps stubbornness is a requirement for admission into the Complex."
Clara waves a hand, grinning slightly. "I go hide in the park on a regular basis. It's therapeutic," Clara counters. "Stubborn? Who's stubborn. I'm not stubborn. I'm...steadfast," she decides after a moment of thought and a snicker.
"Stubborn," Corian repeats, albeit with a smile. "Most of the time, that is not a negative thing." She leans forward, resting lightly against the table. "Sometimes, though, it is."
"Are you trying to say I'm being stubborn?" Clara doesn't seem bothered by this, but rather quite amused. "I've been told that before. I can't imagine why. Still, vacation is an odd critter. Days off are nice, but then those take place here in the Complex. Vacation implies going somewhere, being unavailable in case of emergency."
Corian inquires, "But do you not have additional help, now? And Niko seems capable enough in his job." With a shake of her head, she adds, "If you do not want a vacation, though, it is hardly my place to attempt to persuade you to do so."
Clara grimaces at her mug for a moment, then looks up uncertainly. "Honestly, I just don't know, Corian. Would you suggest another vacation so soon to him if you were me?"
Corian considers the question for a long moment. "It could be that he is waiting until Corvil's wedding--though, I am afraid to say, I am not altogether certain when that is going to be."
Clara's brows quirk up at the mention of the other wedding with interest. "Are he and his fiancee closer to actually setting a date then? That would be good. Surely Riley would be able to get time off-planet to attend that."
Corian makes a vague gesture of uncertainty. "I have been shamefully remiss in my contact with that particular branch of the family," she says, rather sheepishly. "At this point, your guess would likely be somewhat better than mine."
Clara laughs quietly, shaking her head. "Not a clue, actually. I've never even spoken with any of his family aside from you, Honalee, and Jay. I've just heard stories. Well that and how the couch was grounds for battle."
Corian nods to that, eyes glinting with amusement. "I did not even try, when I visited. It was rather entertaining to watch them, though."
Clara grins, lifting her mug. "Smart, smart woman. I think I'd be hiding in a corner, myself. Actually, I'd probably try to do that if I had to get within a lightyear of his mother. Have you met her? Major Addison, I mean. Not the mother the two of you share."
Corian's head inclines in a brief nod. "Of course," she says, with a quick smile. "She is... a fascinating woman." She's hardly going to mention that she was scared of this woman when she was a kid.
Clara would likely be afraid of her now, let alone as a child. She nods thoughtfully, then smiles wryly. "And a father. That right there's an odd enough concept. Ah, well. Takes all different types of families, and that's a good thing." She flickers a glance upwards, then lowers her voice considerably. "What about you? A family in the future, maybe?"
Corian murmurs softly, with a brief smile, "Two fathers." She considers the question for a long moment, then, with perhaps a hint of regret, shakes her head. "It would hardly be fair."
Clara can't help but smile as she repeats the correction. "Two fathers, of course." Leaning back in her chair, she nods someway ruefully in agreement. "I know the feeling. Ah, well. I suppose that's what other people's children are for. Spoil them, give them back."
Corian nods thoughtfully to that, considering her tea for a moment. "I suppose that is, at least in part, why I am friends with Ximena--though, of course, we would be friends even if she did not have enough children for three of me."
Clara laughs easily at that, gesturing a hand at the door. "And the family together has enough children for easily ten women. I doubt I could ever be that brave." She glances upwards again. "Was Tarrant's knee all right after I left? Do you know how that's coming along?"
Corian nods, after a brief pause. "I believe it was all right, yes. It seemed so, at least--he had a bit of difficulty getting up when his comm sounded, and he is still limping somewhat. Should he still have been?"
Clara exhales a sigh, nodding ruefully. "Unfortunately, yes. The damage was just too extensive for us to fully repair. But I think, I hope that he'll be in less pain when it fully heals. And that was the point really, to provide relief from the pain."
Corian nods to that. "At least he will have some relief, yes. Do you know how long it will take to heal fully?"
"Two weeks," is Clara's prompt reply. "Well, two weeks from the procedure. He just needs to be careful until then, and take the pain pills when he needs them," she adds, rolling her eyes in faint amusement. "Why is it men are always more willing to be in pain than a little incoherent?"
Corian shakes her head, her own amusement touched with a hint of guilt. "Well, I can understand why he did not once I arrived home," she admits. "But I really do not see why he did not take them earlier. After all, I was uncertain as to my arrival time; he could hardly have known."
Clara sets aside her empty mug, waggling her brows approvingly. "Well, yeah, that's true. Having someone coherent enough to take care of you when you don't feel well is really nice."
Corian nods her agreement to that, smile turning only a bit sappy. "It was nice, yes," she murmurs. "Very, very... nice." She blinks, then, realizing that last was out loud, and coughs quietly. "Mm. Yes. There is that which I should do, before I... discuss the situation with the Jansites."
Clara, to her credit, doesn't laugh, but she does grin broadly in full understanding before glancing at her wrist and blinking. "Oh, good heavens," she mutters. "I'd no idea it was so late. Thank you for keeping me company through lunch," she offers, settling all her dishes on the tray for disposal.
Corian suggests, getting to her feet and taking up her mug, "It was a late lunch, perhaps." Yeah, it didn't last several hours. "And you are most welcome, of course. Thank you for the conversation. I enjoyed it very much."
Clara rises to her feet as well. "Late and extended," she replies apologetically. "Thank you as well. Give Tarrant my best. I'll comm him later for a checkup on his status." She moves to set her tray in the appropriate place, then tugs at her lab coat. "Have a good evening, Corian. Good luck with the Jansites."
Corian disposes of her tray, and murmurs a thank you, with a faint grimace. "Thank you. I do hope that I will not need the luck, but the well-wishing is appreciated. I will pass on your greetings to Tarrant--please give mine to Riley?"
Clara nods affably, starting for the door at a stroll. "Of course I will. He should be off work...well, sometime this evening," she ventures with a laugh. "I'm not really sure when he went in this morning. Evening, Corian," she concludes at the doorway with a grin, then heads off towards the stairs.
[Travel to Riley and Clara's quarters snipped]
Riley is currently inhabiting the kitchen area, all but -covered- in flour and carefully doing something very complicated involving varieties of cheese. The flour demons must have attacked. So intent is he in fact, that he does not seem to notice you've entered.
Clara stands in the door for a long moment, jaw dropped slightly as she watches the be-floured demon-attacked man in the kitchen. Still agog, she lets the door shut as quietly as possible and leans against it to continue watching. "Do we get to bake you when this is all over? Or is this just the prelude to chocolate sauce?"
Riley does not -quite- jump, but he does look obviously startled, turning sheepishly to wave. "No, I uh, well this takes a long time. I had to make the pasta. And the bag...well, it made a daring move and -leapt- at me. I swear, honest, it had a revenge motive."
Clara folds her arms, heat tilting to regard you with fond amazement. "You're really making pasta?" She tugs off her lab coat and drapes it over a chair before coming around the table to stand just behind and to one side of you. "Why would a bag of flour need to take revenge on you?"
"Well, see, I promised manicotti..." Riley rummages in the fridge for a tray of just said substance, obviously homemade, the lines aren't exactly straight. He settles it on the counter, then setting about stuffing the tubes with various substances, only taking time out to nudge the spoon through the sauce. "Cause it knew I was coming to raid it, and abuse it terribly."
Clara leans an elbow on the counter, sneaking out a hand to steal a bit of mozzarella and peering up at you innocently. "You're making manicotti," she murmurs, obviously rather shocked still. "You're really...wow. Wow, a lot. Riley, you are truly the most amazing man I know." Which doesn't keep her from taking a pinch of flour from the counter and tossing it at you.
Riley stifles a flour induced sneeze as the stuff is tossed, snickering. Snagging a dishtowel he brushes at his hair with it. "I swear, I look like I've been shocked gray after this. What, I said I would...Rhys's is probably a lot better. But I figured I could dang well try. I took the afternoon off and set the sauce on." Setting down the dishtowel he resumes stuffing different ones with different fillings. "And I snagged some bread from the Pavillion when they had the good folks by at dawn, for garlic toast."
Clara shakes her head bemusedly, eyes still wide at the various preparations. "You look like a ghost, actually. A big one. You took the afternoon off," she repeats quietly, stunned out of original speech before she slips up behind you to attempt to wrap her arms about your waist from behind, heedless of the flour. "I love you. Can I help?"
Riley shifts an arm back, in an awkward half-hug, "That's okay, I've got it. This is supposed to be a bribe, remember? How can I properly bribe you if you help?" He snickers softly, "Boo?"
Clara comes back around to lean on the end of the counter again, brushing random flour off of her shirt and grinning up at you. "Eeep. Be still my poor heart." She leans forward to snag another piece of cheese, still half-grinning. "I remember," she replies quietly. "I didn't think you were serious."
Riley flicks some more flour your way, grinning, "Hey, no swiping all the ingredients." He settles the stuffed pasta shells back into the fridge. "They have to rest." He regards you with bemused wistfulness, "Love, for you, anything's worth it. You said you'd marry me eventually, I owe manicotti." He regards the bubbling sauce a moment, before adding some mysterious substance.
Clara wrinkles her nose as the dusting of flour nearly obscures her freckles, snickering. "Yessir," she replies with a laugh, and promptly steals another bit of cheese. "Riley, you didn't -have- to do this, honest. I'll marry you without it. This just makes me want to marry you all the sooner," she explains with a wistful laugh. She gives the mysterious substance a curious look. "Should I fear what all's in that sauce? A potion to make a woman helpless to your whims and wishes?"
"But I love you. And you -deserve- this. Besides," Riley explains with a sheepish smile, "I don't get the chance to make it often. It takes all day. I figured I'd better do it now, while I could." He shakes his head, looking amused and solemn. "Sorry love, there are some secrets that are not meant to be known." He winks, gesturing with the container. "Actually it's just dr'ian. Kind of like oregano, but with a different aftertaste. There's a lot of different stuff in there. I had a time tracking down everything I needed. I didn't have a quarter of it here."
Clara gives the saucepot another dubious look, one brow raised. "Mm-hmm. I still say it's a potion that may do evil things," she decides, then peers past you at the refrigerator. "I can't say I'm going to object to this, certainly. Even just what's done smells amazing, and you can never have too much cheese. Why do the manicottis have to rest? Are they tired?"
"-Hopefully-, it will cause you to fall head over heels in love with me," Riley says in an amused tone. "So that you'll never escape my evil clutches. More likely though, it'll make you crave take-out." Riley looks rather sheepish, stirring the sauce. "I have no idea why they have to rest. But Dad always said they did, so I let them rest. It has to do with no air bubbles or something."
"Maybe they get the bends if you dump sauce on them too fast and they haven't rested," Clara ventures in wide-eyed innocence that fades into an adoring smile as she slips in close again to swipe another hug. "Don't need the sauce, darling. I'm already head over heels in love with you. If you feed me, though, you have to keep me. It's an unwritten rule. We'll have take-out tomorrow."
Riley returns the hug, but not without a poke for the bends comment. "Take-out if this doesn't turn out..." He chuckles, "Oh, oh no, having to keep you...The misery. See my pain? Ow. Ow."
Clara yelps lightly, the sound dissolving into laughter as she sneaks a hand out over the one you're stirring with, not really helping, just idly drawing her fingers over the back of it. "Poooor abused man. I am so frightfully cruel to you." She peeks around at the sauce and notes reasonably, "If it tastes half as good as it smells, I'm never going to want take-out again. You're spoiling me, love."
Riley chuckles sheepishly, looking almost nervous. "I don't know how it'll turn out. It's been five years or more since I've made this stuff." Shifting around he attempts to swipe a kiss as he heads to the fridge to pull out the tray of manicotti.
Clara does her best to delay your trip to the refrigerator before behaving and reclaiming her place leaning against the far end of the counter. "I'm sure it's going to be wonderful," she assures, completely confident. "Everything you do is wonderful already. This won't be any different." A faintly wicked smile touches her face. "What, do you only make this when you're trying to get someone to marry you?"
Riley stifles a quiet laugh as he pours the sauce carefully over the pasta, then adding even more cheese before sliding the whole mass into the oven. After a brief phrase in Kashidian, almost a prayer, he straightens and goes to pull out the bread. "Nope, just for special occasions usually. I'd never thought of using it as a bribe before."
Clara for once doesn't pester for a translation, but rather just enjoys the unfamiliar syllables in addition to enjoying letting her eyes track your movements. "Actually, we're sort of close to a quasi-special occasion," she notes after a moment with quiet contentment.
Riley sets about melting butter and adding garlic to the mix, getting it boiling and clarifying the butter. He looks up, brows lifting in curiosity, "Are we? Things've been so chaotic lately..."
"Mm-hmm. A week from now, actually," Clara replies, leaning both elbows on the counter to regard you almost in awe. "It'll be a year that we've been together." Her grin widens slightly as she glances off to one side. "Let me rephrase that. A Terran year. Sorry, I still count time in my head from home."
Riley grins at that, looking pleased. "Wow, a whole year...Well give or take a month. Here years are another month long of course. Dang...we oughta do something special then." He drizzles the garlic sauce on the bread before tucking it in a separate compartment of the heating unit. Then he goes to rummage in the brown sack on the counter, tugging out a tablecloth and candle be-decked bottle. Whistling softly he goes to arrange the table.
Clara shifts to lean against the wall, just shaking her head with a phenomenally pleased smile. "In a month, love, in a month. No need to go celebrating early just because I can't remember what planet I'm on. Of course, we could always do this again next month," she muses, fluttering her lashes up at the ceiling guilelessly.
"Maybe we could get out for a while?" Riley suggests as he settles the table and then ducks into the closet. "This is a bribe. It's different. For that maybe we could escape, overnight maybe?"
Clara stays put, although she does reach up to start tugging down hairpins idly while looking undisguisedly hopeful. "Do you mean it, Riley? Really...? Maybe...two or three nights? I know it's a lot to ask, but, well. Some time off would be really good for you, love."
Riley returns from the closet in jeans and flannel, and using a towel to dust the powder from his hair. "I'd love to take a couple days. Just didn't think you'd take it. I'm not the only one who needs a break, hon."
Clara inhales a soft, appreciative breath at the change, although it makes her all the more aware of her own decidedly unfeminine fatigues. Pushing away from the wall to intercept you in the attempt to steal a kiss, she grins up before breaking away to move to the closet. "Corian said the same thing, you evil man. She said to say hello, by the way."
Riley tugs plates and such down, setting the table. Instead of wine however, he tugs cans of soda from the fridge, setting the whole thing up, sans the actual food. "How's she doing today? Feeling any better? Kath keeps going on about how she's shacking up, her words, not mine, with the guy with all the z's. I have no idea what's going on anymore."
"I'd hardly call it shacking up," comes Clara's voice from the closet, highly amused. "Kathlyn would put it that way. She's fine though," she adds, coming out of the closet in a skirt and sweater and flashing a quick grin at the soda as she perches on the arm of the couch. "I believe she may have reached an understanding with Mr. Czolgosz. Really not my place to gossip about it, though. Well, that and I -like- the man. I don't want mean old big brother going down and whalloping him."
"What if I promise not to whallop him?" Riley questions in an amused fashion as he rummages the bread out and snags a hotpad for the pasta. He whistles softly, grinning, "You look nice, hon." He hefts the food towards the table, "After all, I -won't-, unless he makes her unhappy. Then his little interior department hide is paste. This is, after all, my job."
The compliment garners a purely delighted grin from Clara as she notes, "Just trying to keep up with you, sailor. You sure I can't help?" she asks, then laughs easily, shaking her head. "To my knowledge, he's been very, very kind to her. I do know that he adores her implicitly, which is really nice to see." She pauses, then asks wryly, "Your job is to grind people's hides into paste?"
Shaking his head Riley grins, "Nah, you just sit down and let's see if this is even remotely edible." Dropping off the food he returns to the fridge for a small plastic tub of honest to goodness parmesan, shredded. "Not all people. Just anybody who makes any of my sisters unhappy. It's a brother thing. A site good thing for me you've not got any."
Clara pushes away from the couch to cross over and lower into her chair at the table, adjusting the skirt modestly while laughing. "Now you don't know that for sure, love. I haven't seen my father in twenty-six years. It's entirely possible that I have a couple siblings running about out there. But no, they're not likely to worry about my love life. Be at ease, m'dear. Your sister is being properly adored and set on a pedestal."
Riley snaps his fingers lightly, somehow summoning up flame between them to light the candle. With a sheepish grin at the silliness he settles the oddly twisted matches down to the table. Nope, no neat tricks, just ingenuity. "I hope this is edible." He gestures that you should serve yourself, looking rather nervous.
Clara gasps faintly at the trick, then quirks her lips in a grin at the matches. "Sneaky," she murmurs, and does as instructed, carefully fishing out a pair of the pasta tubes onto her plate before snagging a slice of the bread. "It still smells good," she comments while doing so. "Maybe it's a potion to keep me from hounding you about annual physicals."
Riley snags food himself, slicing a piece of the manicotti off worriedly. "Hey, if I thought -that- would work... Well, we'd be eating this annually at least. Although the last one wasn't so bad, considering the altered circumstances."
"Oh, so -that's- why you taunted me into your clutches, hmm?" Clara counters with mock-affrontedness. "So I could give you your physicals in...no. That sounds bad. On the bed. Oh, heck, you know what I mean, you were there," she splutters, and abruptly slices off a bit and pops it in her mouth, eyes widening slightly before closing.
Riley snickers sheepishly a moment, "Now I hadn't thought of that...although it is a danged pleasant by..." He trails off at the look, half-wincing, "It didn't come out right, did it?"
Clara utters a soft sigh, leaning back in her chair as a serene smile touches at her face. A moment later her eyes open, alight with appreciation. "Spectacular," she murmurs, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. "It is a potion. I think I just fell head over heels in love with you again, this time for your cooking."
Riley looks exceptionally relieved. He all but flops back against the back of his chair as overtense muscles relax. He snags a bite of his own meal, considering. "Not as good as Dad's," he decides. "So remind me not to let him cook for you. I'd really rather not say my a'trezla left me for my father."
Clara can't stifle a laugh at that, resuming working on the meal rather enthusiastically. "Which father? Mr. Addison or Mr. Treston? Although honestly, I'm about as likely to leave you for one of your fathers as you are to leave me for my mother." She pauses, then arches a brow in mock-suspicion. "You're not going to leave me for my mother, are you?"
"Addison," Riley replies, sipping his soda with an amused look. "And no, I hate to say this my love, but your mom frightened me when she hit on me. I almost hid behind Niles."
Clara has to put down her fork as she dissolves into laughter, covering her eyes with one hand. "Oh, good heavens. Niles would have simply collapsed laughing. Well, after he got home at least. He probably did anyway." She reclaims the fork and another bite before offering, "I really am sorry about Mother, dear. She really is just being friendly. It's just, when she's friendly, she's -friendly-."
Riley looks rather sheepish, but amused. "He just seemed as if he would be a very good person to hide behind." He munches a moment as he nods, "Very friendly, yup. If I'd been more awake, I'd've probably been less scared. And I was having the weirdest sensations, hyper effects I guess."
Clara munches part of the bread thoughtfully before asking, "Weird sensations? Like what, love? Can you explain them to me?" She's trying to hide any concern, and nearly is succeeding, but she's still vastly worried over the effects of that trip.
"Almost like echoes, but of what I was thinking instead of what I was hearing. It stopped after that second jump." Riley continues work on his meal. "Almost like those dreams in flavor. But not the same."
"Ah," is Clara's only answer before she continues eating, expression thoughtful, the gears upstairs almost visibly turning. "And you're still having the dreams?" she queries absently.
Riley nods to the question as he snags another bite, half-shrugging. "Yeah, but I'm getting used to them I think."
Clara reaches for her soda before sinking back in her seat to sip at it, eyes distant as she mulls over the information. Finally, she sighs gustily and sets it back down to resume eating. "I'm flummoxed, love. It could be any number of things. I have ways of finding out, none of which you'd care for. Still, if you're actually getting sleep, I suppose I can't complain."
"These ways involve you not being in the bed I take it?" Riley questions wryly as he sets down his fork.
Clara smirks slightly as she finishes off a bit of manicotti, nodding in amusement. "Most of them do, yes. Told you you wouldn't like them," she adds.
Riley hmphs softly, sipping at his soda. "I'll live with a little sleep deprivation rather than Clara deprivation. B'sides, I don't have em when you're not here, I know that. We've slept apart enough..."
Clara gestures with her fork reasonably. "Then that tells us you don't have the dreams when you're alone. What it doesn't tell us is if you have the dreams when I'm with you or when anyone is with you. These dreams...can you make out any words in the echoes?"
"Not really words, nope, it's just an un-nerving sensation more than a real echo. And nope, sleeping with somebody else'd seem to be right out." Riley says with a decided blush.
Clara actually grins at the blush, leaning forward carefully so as not to get pasta sauce on her sweater, but also to be able to touch your face. "I'm not suggesting that it be anything intimate, darling. I'll admit I'd be rather heartbroken if it were. If you won't agree to someone in the same bed, what about someone in the same room?"
Riley looks rather sheepish, "I, uh, it's not that I mind sleeping with somebody in the same room. I shared a room until I got my Captain's stripes. It's just, well, this is kind of embarrassing, eh? A man my age having nightmares and not being able to sleep?"
Clara purses her lips and leans back in her chair, legs crossing as she reaches for her soda and sips while regarding you. After a moment, she nods slowly. "I can see your point, although I don't agree with it. What about another doctor, love? There's no need to be embarrassed in front of my staff." She pauses and smiles faintly. "I'd make sure it wasn't Vryce."
"Half the building'd find out anyhow, somehow," Riley replies sheepishly, settling napkin on plate. "It always seems to happen that way."
Clara continues to sip at her soda, eyes going distant in thought again. "What about Corian, then? Or even Mr. Czolgosz? Well, maybe not him. But Corian, or even Niko? Siblings could be a trusted option."
Talk about potential MPD moments. Riley just shrugs, "I dunno, if somehow the whole building wouldn't end up knowing...I'd do it. Sure."
Clara tilts her head at you in faint confusion. "Riley, what is it? Is it really that you don't want anyone to know? It...it seems like there's something else," she suggests quietly.
Riley shakes his head, looking rueful. "That's it, I swear. It's just...well, I don't know. It's hard to face the idea of having to command folks with something like that being bandied about."
Clara spreads her hands slightly, extensively apologetic. "I'm sorry, love, there just aren't many more options. I suppose I could put a monitor on you tonight, but that would just tell me that you are dreaming. We already know that," she adds. "Just not what the dreams are or what's causing them. Think back, love. Were you having these before the trip to Earth?"
Riley climbs to his feet to begin gathering the dishes. He shakes his head absently, "Not that I can recall. I'm pretty sure they started afterwards."
Clara rises as well to start helping, grimacing slightly. "And you were having the same symptoms while awake actually on the planet. Did you have this problem when you were stationed on Terra?"
Riley tucks leftovers in the fridge, plates in the washer, this kind of thing. "Nope, not as I can recall. Although as little time as I slept back then...That was hectic."
Clara does her part in ferrying the dishes to you, quiet all the while. Finally she sinks into the chair you'd been using and reaches for the candle and scoots it across the tablecloth slowly before looking up with an almost lost expression. "I just don't know what to do, Riley. I'm so, so sorry..."
Riley pads over in bare feet to kneel and offer a hug, "Love, it's okay, there's nothing that -needs- doing. I'm fine, don't worry about it."
Clara leans forward into the embrace, burying her face at your neck gratefully, murmuring quietly, "More research...find out why. Make it better..." before pulling away slightly to regard you seriously. "Dinner was splendid, and you are the most wonderful man in the galaxy."
Riley shakes his head, "Love, please, let it lie. I can live with it." He shakes his head, "You must not've met a great many men."
Clara hesitates before responding, then nods solemnly. And just as solemnly, she holds out a hand in indication that you should stay exactly where you are, don't move, and rises to move to the kitchen.
Riley holds still, as indicated, looking rather bewildered.
Clara still makes absolutely no sound as she pulls a glass from the cabinet and fills it with water. Poker-faced, she returns to resume her seat in front of you and very carefully, methodically, and very much on purpose upends the glass over your head, eyes dancing as she tries desperately not to grin.
Water and flour make glue. But more specifically, water and Riley makes a damp and confused Riley. "Bwlack?" He reaches in to poke you in the ribs, snickering, "What'd you do -that- for?"
Clara finally dissolves into laughter, trying to lean back in the chair to unsuccessfully avoid the poking. "Because it needed to be done," she explains with as much innocence as she can muster. Not a lot, in other words. "It just needed to be done. Your yearly dousing."
Riley drips.
Well, and snickers. He ends up sitting cross-legged on the floor and damp. "Greeeeaaaat. Well, I guess yearly baptism's hardly going to hurt me any."
Clara leans an arm over the back of the chair to sit sideways in it and grin down at you. "Not a bit. I'm afraid I'm hardly qualified to do baptisms, though. Dousing's my level." She waits for a moment, then sniffs and climbs to her feet, picking the glass up from the table. "And no retaliation. Vive le evilness."
Of course, what Riley's been waiting for, is for you to stand up. In a single moment he extends to his feet, attempting to scoop you up into his arms.
Good thing the floor is carpeted, because that's where the glass bounces to harmlessly as Clara goes the opposite direction, squeaking at her usual dolphinish pitch of surprise before laughing. "Uh-oh? I'm in trouble?"
"Hey, you're the one who was touting evil..." And with a decidedly evil grin, Riley heads off with you. Uh, to the bathroom. Umm, run away?
"Hey...hey!" Clara exclaims, realizing the bed is not getting any closer, and neither is the couch. "Riley Addison, what are you doing?" she demands in between increasing laughter and arms tightening about your neck slightly.
Riley shifts to support your weight with one arm, holding you close as he fumbles with the other one to turn on the shower. He's kind, it's on warm, neither hot nor cold. Attempting to step into it with you, he points out, "I can douse back."
Clara is indeed squirming fitfully, but nowhere near as strong as you are, and most of it's for show anyway. "Evil! Evil man!" she declares before getting a faceful of water and bursting into laughter again. "This is slightly more drastic than a glass of water," she finally decides.
Riley leans in to offer a kiss by way of apology as he gently lowers you so you can gain your feet. He snickers quietly, "Well -yeah-, but it was the best I could come up with on short notice."
Your communit crackles to life and announces "Clara? Do you have a moment, or should we comm down to medbay?" in Corian's voice.
Clara seems entirely willing to return the kiss, then groans and settles her head on your shoulder. "Your sister has the -worst- timing," she explains, and backs just enough out of the water to respond.
You say "Er, that depends?" Oddly enough, the doctor sounds frightfully sheepish against a background sound of running water. "What's up?" into the communit.
Riley mutters something about it being genetic, as Nick's is almost as bad. He turns the water off, chuckling softly. He pulls off his overshirt, wringing it into the drain with a chuckle.
Your communit crackles to life and announces "Oh, dear. I did not catch you in the bathroom, did I? It is Tarrant--his knee is hurting. He said that the pain is burning, I did not think that sounded particularly good." in Corian's voice.
Clara snickers softly and attempts to steal the overshirt away before blinking at the comm and sighing softly. "Riley...I have to go," she explains with extreme reluctance, stepping in for a quick kiss and trying to tug off both sweaters and talk on her comm simultaneously as she slips out of the shower and towards the closet.
You say "Uh, no. No, it's all right. Just give me a moment to change clothing and I'll be right there. It won't take more than a moment." into the communit.
Riley returns the kiss, although he offers a quiet murmur, "I'll get de-floured while you're gone." He pauses, "That sounds -bad-..."
Your communit crackles to life and says "Thank you--I do very much appreciate it, and I hope this was not a bad time. I... er, I will have words with his knee, and instruct it to act up during the day, if it is to do so again." And then it'll sing Pisco Bandito at her." in Corian's voice.
Clara pauses to poke her head back in the bathroom, noting rather amusedly, "I thought you said that happened years ago," she comments, then immediately makes tracks towards the closet to change at top speed and grab her medical bag before sprinting out the door.
[Start the Keystone Cops music! Clara dashes up to the 4th floor and knocks at Corian's door. No answer.]
You say "*sounding desperate* Where are you? No one's answering the door!" into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "Oh, dear! I am so sorry, I should have mentioned that. We are in Tarrant's room--G11, on the second floor." in Corian's voice.
[More music! Clara dashes down to the 2nd floor...]
You knock on a door.
Corian calls, "Come in!"
Clara must have been a sight running through the halls and up, then down the stairs at top speed. Jeans and t-shirt cling somewhat awkwardly to still-damp skin, and all she's managed to do is tug rather wet hair into a knot at the back of her neck. Still, the prerequisite medical bag is over her shoulder. "Okay," she breathes with an apologetic grin. "Found you."
Corian somehow manages to look relieved and worried all at once. She's perched on the couch, next to Tarrant. She takes in Clara's appearance with a hint of dismay, murmuring, "I am sorry for calling so late, Clara."
Tarrant is sprawled into a corner of the couch, mostly dozing with his bad leg propped up onto the coffee table. He murmurs a vague greeting of sorts, proof he's at least not entirely asleep. "Hiding..."
Clara waves a hand dismissively, all but skidding to her knees next to Tarrant's knee and looking phenomenally distracted. "No, that's all right. I meant it when I said you could call at anytime," she explains, already tugging her scanner out with one hand while gently probing at the knee with the other. "Tarrant, Tarrant, wake up."
Tarrant doesn't really require the words, as the hand probing the knee startles him quite awake indeed with a bitten back phrase that probably would have been quite creative and not at all polite. "Awake, I'm awake, don't do that again."
Corian remains silent as she glances between doctor and patient, wincing visibly at his reaction. She reaches for his hand, with a quiet murmur of something vague and soothing-sounding.
Clara snaps on the scanner, eyes on the readout intently before she glances up with utter abashment. "I'm so sorry," she offers, blinking, then turns back to her scanner. Maybe the wonder-gadget can scour up some information without causing pain. "When did it start to burn?"
"When I got up for water," Tarrant explains, taking Corian's hand. Thankfully he explains when that was, instead of assuming Clara just knows such things. "A few minutes ago."
Corian does not say that she told Tarrant he should not have gotten up, but instead just gives his hand a gentle squeeze.
Clara's lips move rapidly as her eyes fly over the readout before she sits back on her heels with a heavy sigh. "Give me a minute to comm home," she says quietly, stuffing the scanner back into her bag and resealing it.
"Knew she'd be mad..." Tarrant murmurs in an attempted aside to Corian, sounding decidedly mournful.
You say "Love? Don't wait up. I don't know when I'll be home tonight. *pause* Dinner really was wonderful, though. G'night, Greg." into the communit.
Corian shakes her head. "She does not seem mad, cha'trez," she reassures quietly, though there's more than a little bit of worry in her gray eyes. She glances back to Clara, not asking, just waiting.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "Love you hon." in Riley's voice.
Clara reshoulders the medical bag and climbs to her feet with a warm smile, shaking her head. "I'm not mad, I promise." The comm still gets a wistful look before she puts aside that thought and glances about. "Is the wheelchair up in your quarters, Corian? You're going back into surgery, Tarrant."
Corian nods, giving Tarrant's hand a quick squeeze before she gets to her feet. "It is there, yes. I can get it, it will take but a moment."
Tarrant blinks several times, rubbing at one eye in an attempt to wake up some more. "Surgery again? Oh boy...can we gag me this time?"
Clara shakes her head once, thinking for a moment, then asking, "Can you help me get him to Medbay? It's just down the hall, no reason to get a wheelchair really. Can you put weight on your good leg?" she adds to Tarrant, then grins. "No. No gags. Just take your chances."
Corian nods at Clara's question to her, murmuring, "Of course, yes. Of course." She pauses a beat at the mention of a gag, confusion very briefly replacing worry.
Tarrant nods to the question, carefully levering his leg off the table, using the couch to attempt to gain his feet. "Was walking on it just a couple minutes ago. It'll take my weight. Just doesn't enjoy it." He shakes his head, "Last time was embarrassing enough, with me yammering away."
Clara slips in to lever herself under Tarrant's arm and nods for Corian to do the same on the other side before starting for the door. "It's a part of surgery, my friend. I've heard all sorts of stuff in that room, you needn't worry. Very little is surprise, and nothing leaves the confines."
Corian moves to support Tarrant's other side, offering him a quick smile before she ducks under his other arm. "She did not breathe a word of it to me, cha'trez." Though her player did have asparagus for dinner...
Tarrant falls silent as his energy is turned to travel, although he nods absently. Eyes are on the ground, keeping an eye on his own stumbling steps.
[Off to Medbay...]
Clara hesitates a moment, then tilts her head towards the hallway. "Think you can get yourself into snapscrubs, Tarrant? Or do you need help?" she asks, already mentally racing in preparation.
>>OOC: Corian says "Ooh, ooh, suggest that Corian help, then watch all the pretty colors. ;)"
Corian remains next to Tarrant, helping as she can, and generally looking worried. No, she's not helping with the clothing.
Tarrant is altogether pale from the trip, and half out of it. It takes him a moment to realize he's being addressed, but he murmurs, "Can manage it on my own. Thanks."
Clara struggles the door to the changing room open and helps lead the way, then reaches up into a cabinet for the appropriate clothing as soon as she can, nodding briskly. "Okay, good enough. Corian, if he has problems, you're more than welcome to help him. I'll be in my office for a moment to change into scrubs."
>>OOC: Clara sits back with popcorn and waits for the pretty colors. ;)
Corian pauses a beat at Clara's words, valiantly fighting back a blush. It doesn't work. Clara's got popcorn, she's -got- to blush. And it really does show up well on that very-pale skin of hers. "Mm. Yes, help. If he needs help, I will be certain to help him. Mm. Helpfully. Yes."
Tarrant is sadly a little too out of it for pretty colors, although Clara gets a -decidedly- horrified look as if she has just explained she beats up on chipmunks in her spare time. "I'll be fine, fine, yup, fine," he hastily covers as he stumbles into the other room, shifting to close the door.
Clara is already gone and disappeared into her office before anyone can suggest that she brutalizes people in furry brown costumes. Several minutes later, she re-emerges in a set of pristine white scrubs and an operating apron. She strides over to offer a spare mask to Corian. "I didn't know if you wanted to stay with him or not."
Corian, waiting outside the door to the changing room and looking as if she's really hoping that Tarrant does not need her assistance, nods to Clara. "I would prefer that, yes, if I may. I wasn't certain if that was allowed."
Tarrant is gone quite a while, although he does not at any point, it may be noted, ask for any help. Not that he's entirely adverse to the concept, but because he would permanently turn red if he did, under the circumstances. After a while, looking rather out of it, he limps from the room.
Clara nods affably at Corian, offering the mask. "Sure, just wear that over your mouth and nose and don't touch any of the instrument." She hurries into Surgery for a moment only to return wheeling out a table to intercept Tarrant. "No need to be walking farther than necessary. Up we go," she adds, moving to help.
Tarrant looks exceedingly relieved, and with the help, clambers up onto the table to lie flat. Eyes sinking shut for a moment, he just catches his breath. "Thanks."
Corian nods to Clara, then takes a moment to put on the mask, making certain that it's securely into place. She remains out of the way, watching Tarrant with no small amount of concern.
Clara slips her own mask into place and nods firmly as Tarrant settles into place before wheeling him through the double doors into the operating room. "This won't take as long as the other night, she explains, shaking out a sheet to cover the man with again except for the leg before tugging over a tray of instruments. "It's badly infected, and I need to clean it out."
Corian trails along after Clara and the amazing bewheeled Tarrant. She follows. Just to mention where she is.
Tarrant ahhs softly at the explanation, although he's a little out of it to care about anything beyond the fact that he's getting to lie down and that's all that matters to him. "Sure, gotcha'..."
"And I could tell you that your pants are on fire, and you'd say the same," Clara decides, vastly amused as she tacks the inhibitor on and sets it up back to work as a neural depressor. "He'll still be awake, but without inhibitions or pain. More like very, very drunk," she explains quietly to Corian, then turns back to snap on gloves and microgoggles before adding the laser scalpel glove.
"Sure, gotcha'," Tarrant murmurs again, certainly not -disproving- Clara's statement. As the inhibitor kicks in however he relaxes noticeably. "The owl boiling part. Are they spotted owls?"
Corian nods in answer to the explanation, taking up a spot near Tarrant's head. "We can paint the owls, cha'trez," she suggests. "You could make them paisley."
Clara is already slicing away the bandage, then back into the poor, abused knee. "Sozzled boiled paisley owls. You should paint owls on the treehouse," she suggests, little zaps and hisses coming up from her work.
"Alik would like paisley owls. He could blow them up," Tarrant murmurs, his words rather heavily slurred. "Would he blow the treehouse up then?"
Corian shakes her head, reaching as if to touch Tarrant's shoulder, then drawing back, apparently not quite sure what is allowed. "Alik will not blow up the treehouse, love," she replies softly. "I will not let him."
"Blowing up owls is generally a bad idea, anyway. Not much of a hoot at all," Clara muses, reaching for another instrument to begin cleaning out the infection bit by bit with extreme caution.
Tarrant murmurs his thanks to Corian, eyes tugging open briefly before they close again. "Just making puns that bad cause I'm too snozzed to throw something."
Corian muffles a groan at Clara's pun, lifting her gaze briefly to the doctor. "If you remember, Tarrant, perhaps you can throw something later."
"Wait a second, I get pulled out of a perfectly good shower with m-...out of a perfectly good shower, and I'm not allowed to make puns?" Clara protests with a laugh, still intent on her work though.
"Y'can make puns, if you won't be mad." Tarrant offers in a slurred tone. "Didn't want you to be mad. It's bad to make friends mad." He mrrhrms, "Later, will throw."
Corian glances up at Clara's words about the shower, apparently trying to decide whether to feel guilty or cringe in embarrassment. Riley's her brother after all, aiee, scary mental image.
And it was so perfectly innocent, too. Sheesh, Corian must be thinking something awful to cringe. Clara's blithely unaware, though, reaching for a final instrument that makes some pretty scary scraping noises, thankfully painless, though. "I'm not mad," she promises with a grin. "You can throw whatever you want at me as soon as you're well."
"S'long's you're not mad," Tarrant's words are very vague indeed. "Used to have a lot of friends. Then they made us move. We were all happy. It was rude. Even then was bad to make friends mad. Worse now with only a few."
Corian rests a hand lightly on Tarrant's head, smoothing his hair. She murmurs something vaguely reassuring, though she doesn't say anything beyond that.
Clara sets aside the various instruments and scoops up a hypo, administering it directly into an exposed muscle before beginning to reassemble bits and parts. She glances up at Corian, eyes monstrous under the goggles and imploring. "Talk to him," she murmurs, then turns her face back to the closing. "You'd be hard pressed to anger me, my friend. Certainly never by needing my help."
Tarrant's reply to Clara is so thickly accented and heavily slurred that it's entirely incomprehensible. It's brief, whatever it is.
My, what big eyes Clara has? If the thought crosses Corian's mind, she doesn't voice it. Instead, she just nods. "There, you see, cha'trez?" she inquires quietly. "Clara is not angry, only concerned about you, as I am."
Clara cautiously recloses the various incisions, resonating the various layers down as she works, then finally resonates the final dermal layer. A soft sigh can be heard from behind her mask as she sets the instrument aside and flips her goggles up to rest on her cap and starts to strip her gloves off. "Let me get a bandage, shoot him up with more anesthetic, a massive antibiotic, and he can go home."
"Not angry's good..." Tarrant muses absently, still exceptionally out of it. "Everything's fine, fine, yeah..."
Corian agrees quietly, to Tarrant, "Everything's all right, yes, everything's fine." Glancing back to Clara, she nods. "Of course, yes, thank you. Will he be all right?"
Clara moves to a counter to prep several hypos, then returns to inject three about the recently operated knee and another at Tarrant's neck. The spent hypos get disposed of before she nods vaguely, shutting down the depressor and carefully removing it. "He should be fine, yes. The antibiotics I gave him were both intramuscular and subcutaneous. A one-two punch." She moves to resnap the pants down after rebandaging the leg and settles the sheet over it. "Where are we going?" she asks softly of Corian.
Corian considers the question for a moment or two. "My quarters would likely be easiest," she says finally. "Though it's something of a longer trip."
Tarrant tugs his eyes open as the depressor's removed, although he allows them to sink shut again shortly thereafter. He doesn't seem to object to being talked about, rather than to, instead content to be half-aware.
Clara tugs up railings along either side of the table and half smiles, finally tugging down her mask. "No, it's fine. We'll wheel him up on this, then I'll bring it back down. Let's go," she suggests, taking just a moment to divest herself of goggles and red-tinged apron.
Corian nods agreeably enough to that, reminded by the visual cue of your mask-tugging to take off her own. "An excellent idea, yes," she agrees quietly. "It is late."
[Up, up, up to the heavyside, er, the 4th floor]
Clara continues to push the table, then pulls it to a stop to let Corian open the door.
Corian moves to unlock the proper door, holding it open.
Corian moves around to get the screen out of the way, so that there's nothing blocking access to the bed.
Tarrant doesn't seem to be aware of the trip at all, still altogether out of it and beyond noticing simple things like moving.
Clara pushes the table towards the bed, adjusting it up along side before crouching to adjust the controls to lower it to the same height as the bed itself. "Get the covers, Corian?" she asks softly, then peers down at Tarrant. "Hey, you're back at Corian's. Can you help me move you over onto the bed? It's just to your left."
Corian nods, heading around the bed to tug the covers down, absently taking up the extra ones as she does so, and tucking them somewhere for later putting away-age.
Tarrant manages to pull his eyes open to regard Clara blearily. He mrhrms, fumbling to move in the indicated direction.
Clara does her best to assist getting Tarrant settled before tugging the blankets over him gently and straightening. She taps the controls to raise the table to a pushable height and gives Corian a weary smile. "He'll likely sleep peacefully tonight. Is there anything else I can do?"
Corian shakes her head. "I think we should be fine, thank you. Hopefully," she adds, with a rather wry, tired smile, "We will not need to call you a third night in a row. I am very sorry about that, Clara."
Clara chuckles as she starts to back the table away from the bed. "Corian, if you need to call me, then do so. That's what I'm here for," she explains. "There's nothing to apologize. I'm glad to help." She nods at the man on the bed. "And please, any time, day or night, call me if he gets worse." She pauses at the door with another smile. "Goodnight, both of you."
Tarrant may very well already be asleep, or at the very least so out of it there's no appreciable difference. As soon as the blankets are pulled up he stills entirely, gone.
Corian murmurs a quiet thankyou, then adds, voice still at that low volume, "Good night, Clara. Sound sleep, dream sweetly."
Clara nods a silent response, smiled, and quietly wheels the table out the door.
You leave the room, pulling the door shut behind you.
[Back to Medbay...]
Clara wheels the operating table come gurney back into Medbay and hands it off to a nearby intern. "Get someone to scrub down OR, too," she asks quietly. "Call me if there's any problems. I'll be back in at 0600." With that, she turns to head back out the door.
[And, finally, back home again]
Riley has the bed tugged down, and the blankets pulled back. He's seated in a sprawl on it with a datareader as you enter. He sets aside the book, offering an oversized t-shirt.
Clara lets herself back in silently, wordlessly dragging the operating cap from her head as the door clicks shut. Her brows lift at the offering, a sniffle escaping before she quells it and smiles, crossing to take the shirt. "Thanks."
Riley climbs from the bed, reaching a hand out to you. "Is everything okay?" Concern laces his voice.
Clara slips her hand into yours, nodding solemnly as she steps close to lean her forehead against your chest for a moment. "How could I forget to administer a stronger antibiotic? I should have -known- it'd be needed..." she says, sounding rather lost.
Riley engulfs you carefully in his arms, holding you close. "Love," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing rumble. "Hindsight is 20/20...You can't know everything in advance."
Clara finally gives way to the shakes that she didn't dare even consider while operating, almost leaning against you for support. "Stupid, stupid mistake. Should be okay now, but still..." she murmurs. "So sorry, love. Didn't mean to spoil our evening."
Riley attempts to steer you over to sit on the bed, so that he can hold onto you better. "Love, you by no means ruined the evening. Shh, don't even think like that." He moves to offer as much support as he can. "Everything's okay now, it's all over, you're home, nothing's wrong."
Clara very nearly does allow herself to be pulled down, but steps back after a moment and plucks at the white shirt, a hint of reddish stain visible here and there. "I need to change, love. You don't wanna sleep with me like this," she explains sheepishly, and starts to turn to the closet, rubbing at her forehead with one wrist.
Riley stays seated on the bed, watching you. "Maybe a warm shower? Then come curl up?"
Clara laughs ruefully, vanishing into the closet. "I had a shower, remember?" she reminds from within there. "Besides, I scrubbed down before we took the patient home. It's just the scrubs that are still decorated." She returns a moment later in the shirt, hands behind her head to undo the tangled knot she'd twisted her hair into.
Riley crawls into the bed, holding back the covers. "Let's skip to the curling up then, poor love."
Clara sinks into the bed, still working cautiously at the twist in her hair. She pauses to lean over and brush a light kiss across your lips before sitting back up to resume untangling. "You're entirely too good to me, you know that? Must've really done something right to catch your eye."
Riley settles back simply waiting at watching. He shakes his head, "You were just you, love. And that's what I love. You."
Clara finally gets the knot untangled and slips down under the covers, hissing slightly as muscles held steady for surgery protest at relaxing. "And I love you," she murmurs finally, shifting slowly to her side to smile at you slightly. "I take it you got de-floured?"
Riley shifts up to sit up, moving around so that he can reach to your back to gently rub. "Yeah. Took a bit. That stuff turns to glue."
Clara melts. Well, not literally, but she does fall to her stomach, still-damp hair scattering across her face. "Most wonderful man ever. Feeds me, tosses me in the water, then gives backrubs. Should find all that paperwork sayin' I can marry you," she decides, words lilting slightly.
It's a good thing you can't see Riley's expression, as it's rather pathetically wistful. "You need a backrub," he explains. "Surgery's evil. Anyhing I can do to make you happy, I will."
"Don't ever leave," is Clara's quiet response, syncopated by a faintly pained sound as a series of rather extensive knots are found, rather resistant to release. "Surgery's not evil. Don' like fixing knees, though. So much to screw up...tedious."
"Knees?" Riley echoes softly, carefully working on the resistant knots, his hands gentle but persistent.
"Mm-hmm. Did corrective knee surgery th'other night on a patient," Clara explains quietly, trying to stifle soft whimpers at the pain shooting through her back. "Didn't give him the right antibiotic, I guess. Horribly, horribly infected. I had to open him back up, scrape it out, shoot him up with stronger stuff. Hope it works, this time."
Riley winces at the sounds, but knows that in the long run, this'll help. He uses the flats of his hands so as to try to avoid causing pain, but still un-knot the muscles. "I'm sure it will, everything'll be fine. You're an amazing doctor."
Clara seems to figure out that if she holds her breath, she can't make those annoying little noises. In between bouts of this, she shakes her head faintly against the pillow. "Not always. Can't help you, screwed up with Tarrant, misdiagnosed Corian..." She exhales softly, breath catching in a soft squeak. "Sorry. Annoying when people get depressed," she murmurs, amusement sounding through. "I'll be good. We have leftovers from dinner, right?"
Riley is all but about to whimper himself, as he cannot seem to get the knots undone. He clambers from the bed, going to rummage in the closet. "Love, compare those to -all- the times you've fixed everything amazingly."
Clara carefully shifts to her back, propping up on both elbows to watch you go curiously. "Happens to all doctors from time to time," she agrees, puzzled. "Whatcha doing, darling?"
Riley returns with a triple thick fuzzy blanket, which he proceeds to tuck around you before keying on something at the corner of it. The thing begins exuding fluffy, fresh from the dryer-esque, warmth. "Trying to relax out those knots."
Clara doesn't object, but rather watches the process curiously before sinking back at the sudden warmth, another faint whimper escaping. "Myitis," she murmurs, then sneaks an arm out of the blanket to reach up to you. "Smart man. Thank you, love."
"Myitis?" Riley echoes questioningly as he eases down to curl in close to you.
Clara nods vaguely, reaching for your hair carefully. "Mm-hmm. Swelling of the muscles lining the skeletal system due to injury. Well, infection, too. Prolly stress of overuse, in my case. It's an old injury, love. I'll get Julie to hook me up to the therapy unit tomorrow."
Riley snuggles in close, switching off the lights with a wave of his hand at the plate. "You going to be okay for the night?"
Clara doesn't bother to nod, rather letting closeness and the warmth of the blanket drag her toward relaxation. "'Less you tangle me, yup. Not gonna shoot me?"
"Nope, no shooting my a'trezla," Riley murmurs softly, cuddling close in an attempt to be comforting. "Sleep love, rest well."
"Yessir," is answered rather in muffled tones from the vicinity of your chest as Clara shudders slightly, then finally manages to untense. "Chiat'a bei kruzon, cha'trez," she murmurs, the words unfortunately infected with a British lilt, but she's asleep before she can be corrected.
And sadly before she can hear Riley's soft and -altogether- pleased sigh at the phrase. Carefully he adjusts the blanket, settling in close.