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4/24/99

Rhys looks up, and salutes, with an innocent smile. "Hiya, Clara."

Julie starts to reply, only to stop when she spots Clara, looking over the older doctor. She offers pleasantly, "Good afternoon, Clara."

Clara comes padding out of her office with slightly damp hair from a recent shower and a cup of coffee, still in that 'waking up' stage. The salute gets returned somewhat vaguely before she stifles a yawn. "Afternoon. Egads. My comm didn't wake me up," she says, peering at the offending device.

Julie's mouth quirks in vague amusement. "That's not especially surprising."

"If," Rhys murmurs, "it didn't, you needed the sleep more."

Clara peers from one officer to the other with a faint squint then gestures with her coffee mug with a wry grin. "Okay, who sent Central Comm the message to turn off my wakeup buzz? Anyhoo, don't let me interrupt, 'scuse me," she offers, and heads for the coffee pot.

Rhys looks innocent. For once, it may be true, but decades of practice have made his real innocent face look like his faking innocence face.

Julie coughs at Clara's question, blushing slightly.

Clara mutters jokingly something about assigning you both a couple dozen pushups before making her way to bend over Kramer's computer and tap up the daily reports.

Rhys grins at Julie. He mutters to Julie, "... on..."

Julie reaches over to her desk, punching the button to send the current reports she's working on to Kramer's computer. Rhys's comment earns a wan smile. "That's what everybody keeps telling me."

Clara blinks at the sudden influx of work, then swings Kramer's chair around to sit in it backwards while still tapping at the keyboard and alternately sipping coffee.

Rhys grins. "D'you tell me you went through the Academy without playing poker?"

Julie sends Clara an apologetic look, lifting her hands in a 'sorry' gesture. "Those just need you to countersign," she notes, then chuckles at Rhys. "I didn't have time to play poker. Way too much studying to do."

Rhys rolls his eyes bemusedly. "What is it with you medics," he gripes teasingly. "No idea of fun, sometimes."

Clara glances up with a still-sleepy grin, waving a hand dismissively. "Not to worry. It was just a surprise," she comments, then returns to typing. Tap. Tappity tap. "Poker's evil. You lose all sorts of things," she interjects rather absently.

Rhys' eyes dance. "Depends on whom one's playing with."

Julie chuckles, reaching for another stack of papers. "My idea of fun involves smokestacks, I'm afraid." She gives Clara a passing, curious glance. "Besides money?"

Clara mm-hmms vaguely, eyes still on the screen even during intermittant sips of coffee. "Clothing, so I hear. Never played it that way myself."

Not that this should surprise anyone.

Rhys brings back that innocent face. "I've heard that, too."

Clara looks up from her monitor at that to raise an eyebrow at Rhys. "Uh-huh," she says, in patent disbelief. "You forget I went to school with you, flyboy."

Rhys' eyes dance. "I should know better, I guess. In truth, I hadn't heard of it until you mentioned it. Alas, my innocent ears."

Clara splutters a sip of coffee and has to set the mug down as she dissolves into laughter. "Evil pilot," she finally manages, tapping a few more commands into the keyboard.

Julie laughs quietly. "I think I shall avoid playing poker with you, Captain."

Rhys awws. "Oh, well. I suppose as a soon to be married man, I /should/ abandon these habits anyway..."

Clara isn't saying a word. Not a word. Okay, one. "Smart man." Okay, that was two. Close enough. Taptaptap.

Julie's mouth quirks, and she glances over at Clara. "Oh, I dunno... Clara, did you abandon any 'habits' when you got together with the Chief?"

Clara pauses in typing to look up and somewhat into space blankly, obviously trying to think. "Er...I sleep more now?" Now isn't -that- a scary thought. "And I'm learning to cook. Sort of?"

Rhys laughs softly. "About time," he grins.

Julie slowly arches an eyebrow. "You sleep /more/ now? Heavens, woman, I'd hate to see what your schedule was like /before/."

Clara reaches casually for a sheet of paper, crumples it into a ball, and tosses it at Rhys before returning the typing. "I'll have you know I've only set the kitchen on fire once." She grins at Julie briefly. "I was a mobile medical unit surgeon before."

Julie ahhhs, turning back to her paperwork. "That explains it."

Aliana arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Aliana pads in, carrying a small parcel. She stops by the desk and carefully sets it down. "A delivery from Barrister...some sample, I believe."

Rhys smiles even before he looks up. "Hello, love."

Clara is seated backwards in a chair behind the nurse's station with her vital cup of coffee, and lifts her eyes to smile at Ali. "Afternoon, Ali. Oh, good," she replies, reaching for the parcel. "I was hoping this would come in soon. Thank you."

Aliana finally looks around, her face brightening, "Hello, love" Her smile extends to Clara and Julie, 'Good Afternoon.'

Rhys hops off the desk, crossing to Aliana's side. He kisses her cheek, then... He mutters to Aliana, "Julie... you've... some new..... show..."

Clara hides a faint smile at the muttering, absorbing herself in opening the parcel and carefully rising to take said sample to a storage refrigeration unit.

Aliana's smile turns slightly mischievous yet altogether too innocent as she responds, She mutters to Rhys, "... going... have..."

Rhys mutters to Aliana, "Do... time... got something I..."

Clara is busily taking care of the specimen. Don't mind her. She doesn't hear a thing, nope.

Aliana nods her head quickly, She mutters to Rhys, "... and... thing... my... for..."

Rhys slips his hand into Aliana's, with a smile to Julie and Clara. "If you two will excuse us...?"

Aliana turns to both doctors with a warm smile, "I will talk to you later?"

Clara glances back at the comments and smiles. "Of course. Catch you two later."

Rhys heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Aliana heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Julie glances over at Clara with a small smile. "So are you feeling a bit more chipper than last night?"

Clara nods rather emphatically, returning to the nurse's station. "More than a bit, actually." Even the accent is gone. "I feel like I could actually remember my own name right now, which is a fair sight better than where I was last night."

Julie chuckles. "I should say so. Has the Chief checked in?"

Clara mistypes something at the question, then carefully backspaces as she shakes her head. "I've not heard from him today."

Julie glances in the direction of Security. "Is he working at all? I mean, has he recovered from the cyanatic hypothalidrine?"

Clara nods slowly, still tapping at the various reports. "Hypothalidrine. Don't worry...it's not the most common of comp-..." She pauses, peering at the computer, then rolls her eyes, although a fond smile accompanies the gesture.

Julie's eyebrow rises at the peering. "Is the computer being amusing?"

Clara chuckles, shaking her head as the types. "No, our Chief of Security is talking to me. Well, typing at me, actually. He's amusing at times. Keeps me laughing."

Julie ahhhs softly. "That's rather sweet of him."

Clara sssshs briefly, shaking her head with a grin. "Good heavens, don't -tell- anyone. I think everyone is supposed to think he's mean as an ogre. Well, the diplomats at least."

Julie chuckles quietly, a gleam in her eyes. "I'd love to see him dealing with Delegate Al-Saydun."

Clara chuckles, shaking her head as she types something into the terminal. "To my knowledge, he deals with her exceptionally well. But then, she respects him as an authority figure, as far as I can tell."

Julie's mouth quirks. "And junior doctors aren't authority figures."

Clara smiles up from her terminal sympathetically. "Well, not as much as the base commander as big as an Edreeni. It's not you, Julie. Some of the diplomats are just...difficult."

Julie chuckles wryly. "Heavens preserve me from..." She cuts herself short as her comm unit goes off, listens for a moment, and makes a face. Jumping to her feet to grab her medical bag, she jerks her head toward the door. "We're needed."

Clara's brows shoot up in surprise although she's out of her chair like a shot. "What's the situation?" she asks, grabbing a medical bag off the shelf.

Julie shakes her head, heading quickly for the door. "Out at the lake. When Rhys sounds like /that/..."

[Travel to the Pavilion snipped]

Julie pauses. "Okay, where's this bloody lake?"

Clara is hard on the other doctor's heels, then pulls up short to jerk her head. "Follow me," she offers, then takes off again at a dead run.

[Running to the lakeside snipped]

Lakeside

Blue, blue, as far as the eye can see is blue. Well, there's some sandy-brown, too, at the far edge of the blue, but there's lots of blue. That would be because the lake is pretty big. Occasional ripples hint at fish. At the near edge of the lake, the sand is relatively rock-free, and decidedly kind to bare feet, with a weathered wooden dock. There are, however, several large rocks, perfect for sitting. Beyond the sand, trees grow gradually closer together, providing welcome shade and the occasional fruit, should one be able to climb high enough to reach the fruits. At the eastern end of the lakeside, the rocks increase, making a narrow, crevice-like path.

Contents:

Riley

Dining Table

Julie slows to a walk, finally allowing a smile to peek through. Giving Clara a slight bow, she murmurs, "Y'all have a nice dinner. Take your time coming back, okay?"

Riley is standing here, having just pelted in, and looking confused. Where, where's the trouble, something's up, right? As the medics show up he looks no more comprehending. At Julie's words he blinks a few more times in confusion.

Clara slows up, blinking several times as she catches her breath, utterly baffled. "What's going on? Where's the emergency? Rhys isn't here?" She peers up at Riley, then at Julie. "Who's hurt?"

Their dinner isn't confused, or baffled, or - alone on the beach - winded. It just waits patiently for the humans to get around to it. Inanimate objects are good at that.

Julie shakes her head. "Well, I suspect Ali and Rhys's feeling will be hurt if you set all their hard work to waste." She gestures toward the dinner et all.

Riley is not altogether as awake as he could be, taking a moment or two to simply pause and think instead of asking any more confused questions immediately. Instead he manages a rather bewildered, "But why did they..."

Clara sinks her forehead into her hand for a moment, shaking it slightly. She got sleep. She's coherent, at least. "They tricked us, Riley," she murmurs, then lifts her head with a smile for Julie. "Look, this is really nice and all, but we have duties..."

Both Clara and Riley's comm crackle to life at the same time. Rhys' bemused voice speaks, disembodied. "I guess you'll have found it by now... and I bet you're both trying to get out of it. Stop! We've arranged for you to be covered. Copper Hill will manage, and we'll comm you if we need you. Until then - eat the meal, or it'll get cold."

Julie folds her arms, leaning her shoulder against a boulder. In response to Riley, she states, "Because they're both grateful to you two, once for saving Ali's life when she had that reaction to gravy, and once for saving Rhys' life during the Fourth Fleet incident." She turns her head to return Clara's smile, then nods toward the comm units. "What he said. I've got medical covered, and Rhys said he was going to talk to Niko or Lt. Pendleton or somebody. Everything's covered. Take a couple of hours for yourself, have a romantic dinner, and forget about the rest of the world for a while."

Starting to say something, Riley simply grins at his comm unit instead murmuring to Clara. "We're surrounded, I think we'd best surrender."

Clara chuckles ruefully, stepping a bit closer to Riley's side and folding her arms to give her comm a quick mock-glare that extends to the other doctor. "Wicked wench. I should have known you took the same evil classes I did." She grins up at Riley. "I think you're right."

Julie grins, straightening up from her lean against the boulder, though she does breathe a faint sigh of relief. "Smart thinking. Have fun. Doctor's orders." With a wink, she slips away.

Riley shifts to offer a bow, indicating you should precede him to the makeshift table, grinning. "We know sneaky and conniving people."

"I think it's like to like," Clara decides, vastly amused, inclining her head smoothly at the bow and heading over to take a seat as gracefully as possible concerning the setting. She leans back to set the medical bag to one side. "Guess I don't need that." She looks back wryly. "I -hope- I don't need it."

Riley slides down to a seat himself, far less graceful, although he does at least make an attempt to finish doing up his uniform jacket. "Not unless they've added any bizarre substances to the food."

Clara laughs easily at that, conversely pulling her own Complex jacket off and tossing it atop the medical bag before leaning forward to uncover one of the dishes. "If Rhys or Ali made this, I doubt we have anything to fear. They can both cook without setting fires."

Riley uncovers his own plate, brows lifting in pleased delight. "Can we capture them and keep them? This looks wonderful." He shifts his plate however, closer to you, so he can move to sit on the same side of the rock as you.

There's food? Clara seems to forget it for a moment as she lifts a hand to your arm for a moment. "Not quite as wonderful as you," she murmurs fondly, then ducks her head to re-examine the food. "Pasta...must be Rhys. As long as I've known him, he could always work miracles with it."

Riley leans over in an attempt to steal a gentle kiss. "I'm glad they set this up though. Spending time together of late's been tricky." He nods, moving to take his glass. "All kinds of miracles." He is, after all, a saint.

Clara takes her time in letting the kiss be stolen, then leans her head on your shoulder a moment. "When was the last time we did without falling asleep?" she queries with a laugh. "And the weather couldn't be more perfect." She reaches for her own glass as well, glancing towards the water. "I wonder which side of the lake Niko and Ela are having their wedding on."

Riley shifts an arm half around you, sipping lightly from the glass. "I honestly don't know. This is the broader shore. And the view of the sunset's amazing."

Clara takes a small sip from her own glass before leaning in again easily, watching said sunset. "Isn't it, though? More watercolor than they are back home. Those are almost neon. I like this," she adds, glancing up at you. "How you holding up? Tired?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you what a sunset back home looks like." Riley shrugs the shoulder you're not leaned against, "Some, but it's worth it to be out here with you, on a glorious evening like this."

Clara exhales a soft, utterly lovestricken sigh, eyes closing contentedly for a moment. "You know, we really should eat before it gets cold," she murmurs. "Rhys's cooking isn't to be missed. I nearly married him for it at one point," she adds with a quick wink.

"Maybe I ought to cook more," Riley teases quietly, with an amused smile. He shifts forward a bit, settling aside his glass and taking up his fork. "It does smell amazing, and I'm starved."

Clara smirks vaguely, following suit to twirl several strands of pasta about the fork and sample a bit, eyes closing in delight. "Right up to his normal standards. Hmm, maybe Ali and I can -both- marry him," she muses, then grins over at you. "I'm kidding, of course. He never asked."

Riley takes a bite of pasta as well, eyes all but glazing for a moment as he gives it full attention. "Wonderful stuff." He pauses a moment, half-grinning, "If -I- made you pasta, would you marry me?"

Clara pauses in the midst of more fork twirling, then cants her head sideways to search your face with a half smile. "Maybe. What kind of pasta?" she adds airily, taking another bite before reaching for her glass. "Decent wine, even. Remind me to be nice to him on his next flight physical."

Riley considers this a long moment, munching on his dinner absently. He decides eventually, "Stuffed manicotti? I think that's the trickiest kind I know how to, I'm afraid. Usually quite messy too, but that's half the fun."

Clara can't help but laugh as she pokes at a small bit of...must be clam, evidently, then adds it to the fork as well. "Love, if you can pull that off, I want to borrow Anya's camera and take pictures. Particularly if you get messy. Do I get to help cook?"

"If you like, you're more than welcome to. I love having you around, and cooking with you would be around." Riley snags another bite of his own food, eyes on the plate.

Clara sets her fork on her plate for a moment to reach a hand over and rest on your forearm, offering quietly, "I really am sorry about last night, love. I just...I couldn't hardly move after surgery, then dealing with Delegate Al-Saydun..."

Riley shakes his head quickly, reaching a hand to cover yours. "No worries love, I was so out of it by then...And sleep was a good thing, no matter where you caught it."

"What's wrong then?" Clara asks, turning her hand to lace fingers through yours. "You look sad...or are you just finally winding down from all the excitement?"

Riley squeezes your hand gently, giving you an almost wistful smile and shaking his head in a brief negative. "Everything's fine, it's lovely out here, you're here, the food's wonderful, all's right with the world."

Clara tilts her head at you somewhat dubiously, then stretches up to steal a kiss of her own before turning back to attempt to finish dinner. Well, breakfast and lunch, too, in her case. "And it's not raining," she adds, quietly pleased. "You're sure, darling? You just seem...I don't know. Sad."

Shaking his head, Riley replies quietly, "Not sad, thoughtful I guess. It's a good night for it. I know you won't now, cause of well, a lot of things...But maybe one day, after we retire or whatever, would you marry me?"

Clara abandons the food as you start speaking, turning enough to watch carefully. After a long moment of just the sounds of the lake, she lifts a hand and brushes the backs of her fingers at your jaw. "You realize you've never asked me before? If we were civilians...." She cuts off, then leans in to try for another kiss. "Yes."

Riley returns the kiss with gentle intensity, looking altogether delighted, and still rather wistful. "I'm sorry I didn't ask, I...I had by my terms. Lifemating and all..." He looks rather sheepish, "I really have a lot to learn."

"And I don't?" Clara asks, quietly amused as she lets her hand drift down to rest on your knee. "Greg, it's not that I won't marry you now. Please, love, never think that. It's that I -can't-. I love you, but I love the Alliance, too. I don't even know how to be a civilian anymore."

Riley nods to that, "And I'd never ask that love. I just had thought there were ways is all. I'd never ask you to give up the AF. I know better."

Clara shrugs and turns away slightly to reclaim her glass and watch the water for a moment. "Sometimes I think it's selfish of me. Certainly not what a lady would do." She drops her eyes to her glass vaguely, unable to find further words.

Riley shakes his head quickly, shifting closer to you. "It isn't love, honest. Just because we're in love, doesn't mean we still don't have lives, and jobs and purposes."

In the sky, The humid air seems to hold you to the ground, as the breeze dies down.

Clara takes a slow sip from her glass, then sets it back onto the tablecloth, nodding slowly as she continues to watch the water. "Then again," she finally says after a moment of thought, "we also have something a lot of marriages never find. Trust me. I do enough marital counseling," she adds, glancing up a warm smile.

"What's that?" Riley queries quietly, carefully going back to munching on his meal.

Clara chuckles quietly and resumes finishing dinner, shaking her head. "Be damned if I know a name for it. I just know that you're as necessary a part of my life as air or water."

"I didn't know what to do when you were gone. When things got quiet...I...would kind of just sit and wish you were, and if I wished hard enough, I could almost manage to pretend you were somewhere around, and that's the only way I got through it." Riley's words are soft, barely carrying over the soft lap of the water.

Clara sets her fork gently on the empty plate, nodding thoughtfully as she scoots a hint closer. "I would stare at the comm unit for half the night, or just try to focus on the mental image I have of you. Publicity photos don't look like you," she murmurs.

Riley looks more than a little disturbed, "Publicity photos?" Settling aside his own plate, he shifts to move an arm around you.

Clara leans in against the arm, peering back and up at you with a faint nod. "Mm-hmm. I didn't have a picture of you. I tried downloading a pub photo of Complex staff...didn't do any good. It wasn't my Greg."

"The fact that publicity photos even exist simply scares me. Although it makes sense and all." Riley shakes his head with an amused chuckle. "Scaaaaary." He squeezes you in a half-hug, "We're together now."

Clara can't help but laugh as well, adjusting her arms to rest over yours. "It was a -bad- picture. 2D, and fuzzy as all get out. It must have been at least six or seven years old." Her hands tighten at the hug contentedly. "Together, awake, and not in the midst of a crisis. Has the world ended?"

"Oh have mercy, I think I even remember that now. Right after I got here, they ran me through the gambit. That must have been one of the host of flashing lights. I probably looked stunned and way too young." Riley shakes his head with a fond grin, "Nope, we just got corralled together by friends. Close enough."

"A -young- Admiral Addison?" Clara gasps melodramatically. "By all the saints, it isn't possible!" She stifles a snicker, gently running her fingers in an aimless pattern over the back of your hand. "I don't know whether to be irritated at the corralling or perfectly grateful. This was sweet of them, though."

Riley pokes you with the arm wrapped around you, snickering softly, "Just cause I'm old and gray haired -now-..." He nods with a fond grin, "It was indeed. And very much appreciated. Food, a nice place to be, and we only had to be tricked into it."

"Hey, watch where you're poking!" Clara exclaims in a laugh, squirming away from the half-tickle. "You're old, gray-haired, and devastatingly handsome. I think this may be the best emergency run I've gone on in ages."

Riley makes a great show of shifting to watch, and poking again with great solemnity. "Evil woman who needs to get her eyes checked I tell you."

Clara yelps this time, laughing out right as she wriggles to twist about and return a poke to your ribs. "I have perfectly good vision, thank you very much," she counters with a grin. "I'm not old yet."

Riley squirms from the return poke, snickering. He snags his glass, "Hey, I'm holding something, no fair poking." He shakes his head, "Nope, not old, but still evil."

Clara rolls her eyes at the glass, threatening with one hand to tickle while the other tries to close over the wrist of the hand with the glass. "All is fair in love and war, sailor, you know that!"

Riley pauses, freezing dead still in squirming and simply looking amused, as if in a mental time out. "Now, I'm going to admit, I was sorely -tempted- to nod to that comment and dump the contents of this," he gestures with the glass, "Over your head. I just wanted you to know I had resisted this urge." He then attempts to shift away again.

Clara blinks a few times, then slowly, cautiously removes her hands and scoots back a fraction, trying to look innocent. "Well," she comments conversationally, "I suppose that would be one way to buy a girl a drink."

Riley settles the glass aside, snickering before he scoots back in close. "I'm afraid sleep deprivation brings out the evil in me? Evvy has me brought up to cruelty I'm afraid, I need to be re-trained."

"Why?" Clara asks affably, pulling her knees into her chest and wrapping her arms about them. "I need regular doses of evil administered so I don't become even more unbearable than I am," she explains cheerfully. "I thought Evvy was younger than you, though."

Riley shifts his arms about you, snuggling in as close as you'll allow. "Awww, but I want to be nice to you. You're so amazingly wonderful, you need somebody to be nice to you." He mmhmms quietly, "She is, but she still manages to keep me trained. Remind me to show you her letters."

Clara isn't arguing being snuggled, leaning in with alacrity and sighing happily. "Who says you can't give equal time to evil and nice, hmm? Makes life interesting." She tilts her head back to peer up at you with a grin, then splutters as an errant breeze blows a strand of curls in her face. "Blech. Hairspray. What's the letters say?"

"Maybe evil that would be less likely to set laundry to headhunting. They're going to hate me after today as it is." Riley murmurs in an amused tone, sighing softly as he shifts in close. "Various things, usually updates as well as lengthy diatribes on my shortcomings. She's a riot."

"Oh, -no-. Not more pudding, Riley, please? What'd you do that's going to make laundry even more unhappy?" Clara asks with a faint wince, then taps a light kiss on your shoulder. "You don't have shortcomings. You're too tall."

"Oil, some grease, make that a lot of grease, dirt, grime, some other indeterminant stains," Riley explains ina bemused tone. "Nothing exploded, but getting around to it all was a mess. I'm amazed I came clean." He hmphs softly at that last, snickering.

Clara twists about lightly to pull the collar of you jacket forward and peer down the front innocently. "What do you know, you did get clean," she muses, then abruptly attempts to drop a small rock down your shirt that she'd been hiding in her other hand before trying to jump away, laughing merrily.

Riley makes a sound not entirely unlike 'glack' as he snickers and sets about attempting to extract the rock. "Wench!"

Clara uses the time you spend working out the rock to jump to her feet and take off towards the water, still laughing helplessly. "I keep telling you, I have never waited tables in a tavern!"

Riley doesn't chase afterwards, instead chuckling softly and sinking against the rock to let it take his weight. "It doesn't matter, it's the thought that counts, crazy-lady."

Clara stops after just a couple of yards, turning to bend and rest her hands on her knees, grinning at you. "You're right. And you also look tired. Ready to pack it in, sailor?" she asks, straightening with a wistful smile.

"S'a decided thought, although only when you're ready. I'm fine and all just sitting here." Riley replies, taking up his glass and snagging another sip.

Clara returns to kneel down at your side, regarding the plates and whatnot with a curious look. "You've had a long day. Far be it from me to keep you from well-earned rest, m'love. Now how the heck are we supposed to get all this stuff back to Rhys and Aliana?"

Riley rummages about the rock, pulling up a picnic basket, "Pack it in this? We can take it home and I'll scrub it up if you'll track one or the other of them down to return it in the next couple of days?"

Clara lifts a brow at you, a fair mix of pleased at the find and dismayed at the suggestion. "I'll go hunt them down," she agrees, starting to settle plates together and recovers items for transportation, "but you're not cleaning a thing, mister. Good heavens, haven't you had a hard enough day?"

Riley shifts to help you picking things up, shaking his head, "I'm fine, and your day's not exactly been easy either."

Clara can't help but laugh before leaning forward to blow out the candle. "Oh, it was awful. I slept all day, Riley. I was lazy. I'm afraid I've all the energy in the world right now. So we'll get home, you snooze, and I'll do dishes."

"We'll see," Riley murmurs to that, although he does have to stifle a yawn as he does so, packing up pieces.

Clara takes a moment to finish the contents of her glass before handing over that as well, then lifts a hand to your hair, speaking softly. "Hey, stop a moment. I know I haven't told you lately, but I do love you."

Riley pauses in the packing, all but melting, despite his obviously be-snozzed state. "And I love you too. Besides, I know you love me. You must, or you wouldn't put up with me."

Clara half smiles and shakes her head, pulling away to return to the task of pulling up the tablecloth and shaking it out. "You're easy to put up with, Riley. Does that mean I should tell that anymore then? Since you already know?"

Riley shakes his head with an amused smile, "No, I uh, rather like to hear it honestly. It's a reminder of how danged lucky I am."

Clara climbs to her feet to more easily fold the cloth, tucking it into a neat rectangle before lowering to her knees in front of you again and offering it over. "Lucky? Mm. Maybe. I still think I'm the lucky one. I never even realized what I was missing before there was you."

Riley accepts the cloth with a nod, tucking it into the basket. "Everything turned out for the best. We were both lucky."

Clara rests her hands on her knees while watching the last of the packing, then casts a faintly wistful look at the surrounding before hopping to her feet again and reaching for jacket and medical bag. "Well, this was fun. I'll pester Rhys tomorrow to thank him. Ready?"

Riley clambers to his feet, snagging the basket with a nod. "As I'll ever be. Thank him for me as well? If I don't manage to track him down? This was a wonderful thought."

Clara tugs on her jacket and shoulders the medical bag with a faint grin. "Sure thing. Very nice thought," she agrees mildly. "Lead on, oh venerable basket carrier. I follow dutifully."

Riley chuckles quietly and with a sharply snapped salute and an irreverent grin, he heads back towards the Complex.

[Travel home snipped]

Clara settles her medical bag to the table as the door shuts, then holds out her arms to the basket. "Your basket or your money," she says in her best gangster voice, trying to look as dangerous as possible. With curly red hair and a bright red cross on one arm, that isn't very.

Riley blinks several times, and then attempts to look innocent, "But I just wanted to take some cookies to Grandma?"

Clara flips a hand nonchalantly. "Nah, I ate her. Give over the goods, cutie," she demands again, eyes dancing.

Riley sniffs, as if terribly put upon, but he offers over the basket. "Meanie." The amusement in his eyes belies his accusation however.

Clara nods agreeably, cackling quietly as she gets the basket and hurries it to the kitchen. "Mine, all mine! I'm rich, I'm wealthy! I'm socially secur-...hey! It's dirty dishes!" she cries, as if this were a surprise.

Riley stifles a quiet laugh, going to tug the bed down from the wall. "Thanks love, I appreciate it." He sits down on the edge of the bed as he gets it down and sets about removing his boots. "Goodness gracious, what a wonderful day, at least it's turned out that way."

Clara glances back at you with a fond smile, eyes tracking your movements with evident appreciation before she turns back to start loading the dishes into the washer. "Crack open the window, love? You usually sleep better that way."

Riley climbs to his feet with a nod, crossing to the window and cracking it open before then heading into the closet to change into sleeping clothes. Clothes appropriate for sleeping rather, the clothes don't sleep. "Yeah, it's nice to be able to hear the people. Less quiet."

Clara pushes the lid of the washer closed and switches it on before carrying the basket over to the kitchen table, nodding affably. "I just like the way the air smells. There are times I miss sleeping in a tent." She glances over and grins. "Did you see the new dress in the closet? I finally escaped on a shopping trip with a few other women."

Riley crawls under the blankets onto the bed, "The pretty green?" He shifts into a more comfortable position, sprawled on his chest. "Sleeping in a tent is nice, yeah. Especially if there are other people around. Like hiding out."

Clara snaps off the overhead light and tugs off her jacket before crossing over to the bed to sit on the edge lightly and smooth the blankets over you, a faint smile in place. "Well, I don't know about that. I shared a tent with three nurses. Yeah, the green one. Ela got her wedding dress, too."

"Ahh, sharing tents isn't as nice. Or rooms at all. See, sharing with you is one thing, with three other guys who don't know the meaning of picking up, that's a different business. The one nice thing about being Captain. I got my own cabin." Riley's words have taken on a decidedly drowsy tone, drifting in and out of an accented state.

Clara falls silent to watch you for a moment indecisively, perhaps weighing the words of the other women on the shopping spree, then stifles a soft sigh and leans down to brush a kiss at your forehead. "Having your own place is nice," she agrees softly. "Sleep well, darling," she adds, climbing to her feet.

"Having a place with you is even better," Riley murmurs quietly, sounding altogether pleased with existence as he settles in to sleep.

Clara brushes at your hair a final time, then turns to reclaim her jacket and let herself out the door silently, scooping up the medical bag at the same time.

You say "*subdued* Tarrant? It's Clara. Corian asked me to check in on you. How're you doing?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Fine, thanks, how're you? Sound kinda wiped." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Huh? Oh. Oh, I'm fine. Yeah. How's the knee? Any swelling or pain?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Sore, but fine elsewise I guess. Why doncha' get some sleep, ma'am." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "*soft laugh* Sure, Tarrant. As soon as I get tired. Okay, give me a holler if you have any problems. Is Corian due home anytime soon?" into the communit.

You say "Okay, sounds good. Like I said, comm me if you need anything. I'm always available. Get some rest, and don't forget to eat, things like that." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Sure, yup, yeah. Gotcha'." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "*quietly* Very good. Goodnight, then. Aleron out." into the communit.

You head towards the Medical Bay.

Julie glances up from the last few sheets of paperwork, and smiles. "How was dinner?"

Clara stalks back in with a vague salute, tossing her medical bag on a cabinet. "Evening, Julie," she offers mildly, then pauses and smiles faintly. "Dinner was nice, thank you," she replies, then moves to a cabinet to start rifling through for charts.

Julie nods slightly, scribbling amiably. "That was the hoped-for result."

Clara doesn't respond to that, instead tugging out a fairly massive stack of paperwork before moving one drawer down to extract a few additional forms. "It's a lovely evening outside."

Julie glances over for a contemplative moment, then nods. "Maybe I'll have a walk out there tonight then."

Clara flashes a grin over, then overtakes Kramer's desk again and logs into his computer before spreading some of the paperwork out. "Not a bad I idea. Want me to finish your shift for you?"

Julie blinks, and shakes her head. "Of course not. That sort of defeats the purpose of getting you to work less."

Clara chuckles, shaking her head as she starts to fill out one form, then looks up some data from the terminal. "Ah, but I didn't work at all today, really. Figured I'd get some in now."

Julie's eyes lift heavenwards, and she shakes her head. "Well, you go on and do your work then, you've got enough of it. I can handle the rest of his shift, thank." She cocks her head. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

Clara looks up rather apologetically from the work, shaking her head. "Sorry...I'm not, honest. I just...well. Finding work for idle hands and all that. It's what I do when the drums don't appeal. If you'd rather finish the shift, good heavens, the company is welcome. Unless you'd rather I go hide in my office?"

Julie's mouth quirks, and she shakes her head. "Don't be silly."

Clara pauses for a moment, mentally rewinding for a moment and grasping on something new to think about. "His shift?" She taps at her comm for a moment, frowning. "Julie, why are you working Vryce's shift?"

Julie pauses, and takes her eyes back to the paperwork, murmuring, "He's sick."

Clara's eyes widen in sudden worry. "Oh, no... poor man. Why didn't he comm me? What is it? Upper respiratory infection?"

Julie glances over with a blink. "Infection? Um, no." Not even close.

Clara didn't become a counselor because she couldn't read people's reactions. She rises with a dubious expression and crosses to lean against the other doctor's desk. "What is it? What's wrong with Vryce?"

Julie ducks her head again, her shoulders starting to shake a bit. "He had a little accident when he came in for the shift..."

Clara is already not in the best of moods, and she folds her arms to blink down owlishly. "An accident. I see. Here in Medbay? Why didn't anyone contact me? Is he all right? Is there an accident report?"

Julie nods, tapping at her keyboard to bring up the report on her screen, which she gestures toward silently.

[And the screen shows that Vryce accidentally injected himself with a quintuple dose of laxative and diuretic.]

Clara transfers a rather solemn gaze to the screen, then groans and buries her face in her hands. "I take it all back. Maybe I do need to go pound the life out of my drums."

Julie peeks up, not quite able to hide the humor in her eyes. Then she frowns, expression turning to concern. "Clara? Are you alright?"

Clara nods in affirmation. "Sure, I'm fine," she assures vaguely, pushing away from the desk to return to the nurses station. "I can't believe he did that. Vryce, of all people."

Julie nods her agreement, eyes following Clara. "Not his fault. The child he was treating smacked his hand."

Clara takes up her pen again to fill in part of the form, shaking her head. "Hell of an accident. Man, poor Vryce. I hope he feels better in the morning, at least." She glances up. "You really don't have to take his shift, though. You've already put in a full day."

Julie waves away that consideration dismissively. "Not a problem. I was feeling frisky."

Somehow, somewhere, Kathlyn leers.

"Then Medbay is the last place you need to be," Clara notes, vastly amused, and working all the faster at the form.

Julie blushes a bit. "I owe him though. He took over on the case right before it happened."

"Ju-lie," Clara utters, still not looking up from her work. "We're a team. We don't keep debts. Now, you've pulled a full shift today. Vryce had the red-eye shift that backs into mine, right? Let me take it over."

Julie props her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow resting on the desk. "So you're planning on working a double shift then?"

"Sure," Clara responds, tapping at the keyboard to coax out more information. "Why not?"

Julie snorts. "Because you've been exhausted enough as it is. I can work the double shift easily. Or, you can call in Jones to swing shift. But you taking this shift is the last thing I'd recommend."

Clara jots a note in a chart briefly, half smiling. "Julie, I slept all day, I had a Rhys-made dinner, who happens to do amazing things to pasta, and now I'm ready to work. I'm not tired."

Julie points out stubbornly, "But you will be when it comes time for your regular shift."

"My regular shift will be over by three in the afternoon. I'll go home and snooze then," Clara promises, opening a second folder.

Julie glances toward her chrono. "That's seventeen hours. Too much."

Clara pauses in her writing and looks up with a wry twist of her lips. "You're stubborn." Hello kettle. "I guess...I could go home and work out Bolero a bit more," she muses thoughtfully.

Julie nods her approval, a smile forming on her lips. "And spend some time with /him/."

"Ravel is worthy of spending time on," Clara agrees blandly, starting to close folders and rise to file them back into the cabinet.

Julie hmphs. "Ravel, my sweet patootie. I'm talking about the Chief and you know it."

"Aaah. I'm not about to bother him," Clara replies amiably, tucking the cabinet shut and turning to log off the terminal. "He didn't get much sleep last night, and is finally doing so now." She straightens to push in the chair and offer over a smile. "Holler if you need any help, all right?"

Julie nods slowly. "He's still having the problem with his sleep then?"

Clara shrugs, tugging at the edge of her jacket. "I don't really know," she replies airily. "But who am I to argue if the Sandman cometh? Did you need me to do anything before I turn in?"

Julie bites on her lower lip. "I didn't say you should sleep. I said you shouldn't work. I wouldn't mind some company, y'know. Just don't work. Survey your kingdom." She tilts her head, noting in a quieter tone, "Something's wrong, Clara, I can tell. I realize you're the counselor here, but I'm more than willing to listen."

Clara offers a warm smile and moves to rest her hand on the edge of the other desk, shaking her head gently. "I'm really fine, Julie. I get a little cranky at times, and someone needs to let me know usually. Sorry. And I'm not going to sleep. I'm going to work on Bolero."

Julie's eyes narrow, but she gives a slow nod. "That's a bit different from 'turning in'." She shrugs, a touch of frustration in the gesture. "Okay, you're fine then."

Clara chuckles softly, patting the desk. "Thank you for the approval. G'night, Julie," she offers, then heads towards the door, muttering amusedly to herself about searching out the dog.

Riley does not -quite- snooze it seems, as he stirs as you enter, offering a sleepy half-wave.

Clara lets herself in the door as silently as possible, even all but holding her breath. She sneaks across the room cautiously as a thief, except stealing only her drumsticks and a spiral bound music book. She even holds the sticks apart to keep them from clicking as she makes her quiet way towards the music room, then pauses and turns. You moved. "You're supposed to be asleep," she notes softly.

"Yeah, but when did I ever do what I ought?" Riley questions in bemused drowsiness. "Didn't mean to interrupt your be-sneakin' though."

Clara actually hides the drumsticks and music behind her, dropping her head sheepishly. "I was just trying not to wake you," she offers. "I'll let you alone," she adds with a quick smile. "G'night, love."

Riley offers another wave of sorts, "Sorry for bein' awake then. I was just kinda enjoying lying here and shmoozing's all. Sometimes sleep's not as much fun as knowing you could be."

Clara stays still for a moment, indecision written on her face. Likely in Helvetica font. She starts to say something, then closes her mouth and nods with another smile. "Right. Yeah. 'Kay. Goodnight, Riley." Wrong door, Clara. That's the closet. From within it's confines is a quiet, startled curse.

Riley can't quite stifle a quiet chuckle, "Hon, I think you got lost." There's a pause, "Aside from bein' lost, what's wrong?"

Clara remains in the closet for a time. May as well take advantage and change into sweats. "Not a thing," her voice drifts out rather casually. "Aside from my own staff committing mutiny and not letting me sub for Vryce."

"Mutiny's bad, but you need some time too." There's a sleepy pause and Riley echoes, "Sub for Vryce?"

Clara comes back in said sweats, leaning against the doorframe and shrugging dismissively. "Time for what? But yeah, some kid knocked his arm and he accidentally injected himself with a quintuple dose of laxative/diuretic. He took sick leave," she adds with a touch of humor.

MEDIC> Julie glances toward her chrono and gets to her feet with a feline stretch. "I'm off for lunch," she tells the nurses. "Don't let her sneak back in here and start on paperwork, eh?"

"To relax, to be you. Not to have to work." Riley replies in a still be-drowsed state. "Umm, that sounds pretty miserable. Poor guy."

"Sure, love. That's about what Julie said. That's why I promised to come up and play drums. Vryce is probably in bad shape, poor man. There's not much that can be done, either." She starts for the other door, then pauses. "Unless you want company," she adds without looking back.

As you can't see his face, it's perhaps pointless to describe Riley's rather wistful expression, although it does carry in his voice somewhat. "I wouldn't want to keep you from drumming, love, but I always love your company."

Clara quietly sets the sticks and music on the shelf again, shrugging faintly. "I was hoping you'd want me with you, actually. I just didn't want to keep you from sleeping again."

Riley pats absently at the bed near him, an obvious invitation. "I wasn't sleeping though. I was just lying here and being a total laze. What's wrong, love?"

Clara turns back with a quiet smile to head towards the bed and nudges the covers back slightly, then makes a face and sits on the edge to start removing hair pins. "Nothing's wrong. Just general Clara moodiness," she replies with a quiet laugh. "Sorry. I'll be good."

Riley shifts closer to you, all but putting his head in your lap. His Clara, dangitt. "Just wanted to try and make things better is all. It's okay if you're moody. I just worry bout'cha."

Clara's expression softens considerably as she sets the hairpins to one side, one or two obviously still in place from the few sections still atop her head. She settles her arms about you gently, shrugging. "Don't. It's my job to worry about you."

Riley shifts his arms around you in return, hugging your mid-section. "And it's my job to worry about you too. It goes both ways, m'love. Sorry, it's in the rules." His tone is drowsily teasing.

"The rules say Admiral Addison needs to get some sleep once in a blue moon too," Clara admonishes with a faint smile, raising her arms to remove the final pins. "Sorry I left...I thought you were asleep when I did."

"Yeah, but it's not like I was sleeping when you -weren't- here. Besides, I've slept recently." Riley seems altogether content with the generality of the situation. "S'okay, I was. I just woke up again. It's this neat trick I can do. Sleeeeeep, and then, bang, I wake up. I should get a performance grant just to do that all day."

Clara hesitates, then peers down at you with heavily restrained worry, shifting slightly to brush at your hair. "You're still not sleeping well, then? Please don't sidestep, love. Tell me what's going on."

"If I knew..." Riley half-shrugs, "I got some sleep last night, everything's fine. I have weird dreams is all sometimes."

Clara closes her eyes and nods, shoulder sagging for a moment before she restraightens and smiles warmly down at you, still working at your hair. "Of course, you slept alone last night, too," she notes quietly.

Riley pauses a moment, and then squeezes you tighter. "Weird dreams are a lot better than no Clara."

Clara reaches up to fluff out her hair, then bends down to brush a kiss at your ear before resting her head against yours. "Okay. I'll try not to worry then," she promises.

Riley sighs softly in a decidedly contented fashion. "Ooh, nice Clara, all close and snuggly." He mmrhmms, "No worrying's good. Besides, I've gotten better at going right back to sleep. Hardly even notice em anymore."

Clara can't stifle a soft laugh at that, and the comment earns you another light kiss on the ear. "I'll leave it to your judgement. You know, though...I'm a lot more cuddly if I'm horizontal. Unless you'd rather spend the night with your head in my lap..."

Riley slowly disentangles himself, chuckling sheepishly. "Sorry, just kinda had to invade your space." He moves back, allowing you room enough to lie down.

"Invade?" The word comes out in a choked laugh as she scoots under the blanket and settles on her side to face you. "Riley Addison, you're welcome to invade my space at any time, you should know that. Silly man."

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Clara, ma'am, I hate to pester but...Well I'm going to anyhow. Corian seems to have gotten into a little much in the way of a stimulant." Despite his vaguely flippant words, Tarrant sounds worried, "And with her metabolism..." in Tarrant's voice.

Riley curls in as close is he can, all but purring in contentment. He leans in to swipe a kiss, eyes alight, but then pauses at the comm's crackling.

Clara settles into the kiss, all set to make it memorable, then sags against you and groans. "No. Not tonight. Not -now-," she mutters, then sighs to listen to the message, annoyance melting into alarm. She shifts back to venture a short but intense kiss, noting, "Hold that thought. It's your sister." And with that, she all but leaps from the bed and snatches her shoes from the closet and medbag before pelting out the door.

Caught between alarm and thought holding, Riley's expression is probably rather comic. He just sort of waves as you flee.

You say "On my way!" is the startled, breathless answer, obviously said on the run." into the communit.

[Up to the 4^th floor to knock on the door to Corian's quarters! The William Tell overture plays in the background!]

Corian calls, "Come in."

Corian is perched on the floor near the bit of the couch closest to Tarrant's head, a mug of tea cradled lightly in one hand. She offers a restrained smile, and a murmured, "I do hope it was not a bother, Clara." Her words come slowly, but that seems to be with effort, as if she is preventing them from tumbling out over themselves.

Tarrant is seated on the couch, leg half-propped up, half down as if he were about to slide off it to stand, looking perhaps a bit bewildered. He re-tucks the comm unit in a pocket, "She's jumpier'n a long tailed cat in the proverbial factory of rockers."

Clara hurries in, oddly unkempt for once in sweats and t-shirt, hair loose, and tennis shoes on but not tied. "Oh, Corian," she murmurs, shaking her head as she circles around quickly. "What stimulant did you take, how much, and when?" Tarrant gets a wistful nod. "Thanks for calling me."

Corian moves to put the mug back on the table, fidgeting with it for a moment until it is placed just so. "It was this morning, just before I left," she replies, her speech quickening just a bit. "And it was ev'lis. I have not had a problem with it in the past, Clara. Really. I have been taking it--occasionally--for years."

Tarrant nods to Clara, looking rather sheepish and worried all at once. It's a confusing expression, he didn't mean for it to be, but hey. Concerned, he just pipes down to keep more or less out of the way.

"Ev'lis?" Clara's voice swings up in sudden concern. "Corian, that's -addictive-!" She tugs open her bag to rummage out a scanner and snap it on to start using it. "Well, for humans, at least. I just hope you're not enough human to react that way. How many hyper jumps did you make today? Have you eaten? Tarrant, did she eat when she came home?"

Tarrant shakes his head in brisk negative, "No'm, she just got home."

Corian shakes her head quickly at the a-word. "I am more than half Edreeni, Clara. That is enough. I use it responsibly--really, despite how this looks. I had two jumps today, there and back again." A hobbit's holiday. "Food... mm, no. It was Edori cuisine, Clara. I cannot eat Edori cooking."

Clara sighs softly, well distressed at the readout and just flustered enough to not quite be as professionally calm or walled-in as usual. "I know, mon ami...sorry. I've just seen humans hooked on ev'lis before. Not pretty. Edori...carnivores, right?" she asks, resuming rummaging in the bag for a hypo kit.

Tarrant looks, if possible, even more concerned, and shifts his weight against the couch's arm, carefully twisting sideways to watch the proceedings.

Corian's shoulders twitch in a brief shudder. "Carnivores, yes," she agrees. "And I did not have an opportunity to attempt to locate anything I could eat. But... Clara, if there were a chance that I would become addicted, I would not have taken the ev'lis in the first place. I did speak with a doctor about it." She pauses. Take a breath. Speak slowly. She offers a faint smile, adding, words coming almost painfully slowly, "I would not be uninformed about something like that."

Clara lays one prepped hypo down, then a second, then a third...she seems to be working out a collection of them. "It's all right, Corian. It just scared me at first," she offers apologetically. "But not eating and two hyperjumps mixed with your already hyped-up metabolism from the genetic cultural mix...bad. Not good. Please, Corian, don't do this again? I give it a half hour before your body temp drops and your insulin goes into overtime. Hypoglycemic reaction. Tarrant, are you staying here tonight?"

Tarrant nods to that question, not even glancing to Corian questioningly first. "Sure as hells am. Not gonna leave her alone after all this mess."

Corian shakes her head at the mention of this happening again. "Of course not, Clara," she starts to say, but then she pauses a beat at Clara's last comment, brows lifting. Tarrant gets a brief, rather grateful smile.

Clara lines up a fifth and final hypo with a faint sigh, then picks up the first pair. "Ready to become a pincushion?" she asks with faint humor, despite the needle-less status of the hypos. "I also have a request, which I promise is for medical purposes..."

Tarrant leans down to stage-murmur to Corian, "This means she's going to ask something scary." See, Corian's not the only translator around!

Corian nods, with a brief, rather wry glance to the row of hypos, then flashes a decidedly amused glance at Tarrant. "I do believe you may be right," she replies, at the same volume. Turning back to Clara, she inquires, "What scary thing do you have to request?"

Clara grins wryly at you both, starting in on the series of nutrients, glucose, and diluted sedative. "Well, I don't know how scary. But certainly not standard medicine. See, Corian, in a half hour to an hour, you're going to swear you're freezing. You're not going to lose motor function, but you certainly aren't going to want to move. At that point, you're going to need help staying warm...and the best way to do that is to have someone larger than you are under a stack of blankets holding you. Which is where you come in," she adds to Tarrant sheepishly, finishing up the hypos along with her speech and blushing madly.

Corian waits patiently while the various hypos are administered, then blinks at Clara's words, her expression a rather odd combination of trepidation and amusement. She doesn't comment, though, instead flickering a brief glance to Tarrant.

Gee, funny, Tarrant doesn't seem to object to that, instead arching his brows in a look that could -almost- be amused if he weren't so concerned. He simply nods, "I think I can help out on that end of things."

Clara nods rapidly, fighting the blush back that fortunately isn't quite the hue of her hair, and stows the spent hypos in her bag before tugging out a small black strip and holding it to Corian. "Very good," she replies. "Go ahead and wear this on your upper arm for tonight. It's adhesive. It'll produce an alarm if your body temp goes dangerously low. Call me -instantly- if it does."

Corian takes the strip with a murmured thankyou. "Of course, Clara. Do you know how long this should last? And will it just be cold?" She doesn't seem all -that- disturbed at the prospect of being cold. After all, look at the treatment...

Clara picks up her scanner from the floor and glances over it again before snapping it off. "I'd say late morning? Early afternoon?" She nods, putting the scanner away. "You may appear to lose consciousness, but still be alert. Stay calm, both of you. It will pass. It's just the body re-regulating the glucose/insulin balance."

The amusement has faded from Tarrant's expression, leaving only the concern, but he nods to the instruction, keeping quiet.

Corian nods slowly to that, now looking perhaps a bit disturbed. "Well," she says, with an attempt at lightness that doesn't quite work, "This will be a fitting end to the day."

Clara zips up the medical bag, then leans back on her heels slightly to give you both a reassuring smile. "Above all, don't worry. Relax. This is temporary and may seem frightening, but it's not dangerous. Just uncomfortable. When you wake, Corian, -eat-. Eat as big a breakfast as you can down, and try to make most of it protein." With these final instructions, she climbs to her feet.

Tarrant offers Clara a decidedly grateful look, nodding. "Thanks for coming Clara."

Corian echoes Tarrant's thankyou, albeit rather quietly. "It is appreciated, yes. Thank you."

Clara reshoulders the bag, smile warming. "My pleasure. Please, contact me if you have -any- concerns at all. I'll scoot now and leave you two if there's nothing else?" Tarrant's knee gets a significant glance.

Tarrant seems to miss the glance altogether, "Any concerns, check. Thank you ma'am."

Corian, on the other hand, does catch the glance. "His knee has been hurting, he said," she reports, "And it has been longer than twelve hours since he last took the pain medication."

Tarrant erks softly, adding on, "It knocks me out. And I was worried about Corian, I didn't want to be knocked out."

Clara raises a brow at Tarrant at the news, then wordlessly turns to set the bag on the desk and works with something inside for a moment before turning back to calmly press a hypo into the side of said knee. She reshoulders the bag, lips quirking in a faint grin. "What else?"

Tarrant winces rather decidedly as the hypo's pressed in, although the expression fades as the drug kicks in. He just shakes his head in a brief negative, not having anything else it seems.

Corian looks just a bit concerned at the wince from Tarrant, but shakes her head as well. "Is that not enough, Clara?" she inquires, a hint of rather wry amusement in her tone.

Clara shrugs with a grin, pushing hair from her eyes. "I'd have to say yes. Then if it is, I'll bid you both goodnight," she offers, and turns to head for the door.

[And back home again...]

Riley has been waiting, rather quietly of course, chin on crossed arms. So he's still awake and offers you a smiled greeting as you return.

Clara lets herself back in, quietly setting both medical bag and keys on the table, then moving to rejoin you with a wistful smile of apology. She kicks her shoes off and sinks down at your side. "Sorry. Minor, easily treated emergency."

Riley looks rather decidedly relieved, "Everything's going to be okay then?"

"Yeah," is Clara's quiet reply as she nods. "She just took ev'lis this morning, then didn't eat and did a couple hyper jumps. I dosed her down and told her to go to bed." She glances over the bed at hand, then clambers back under the covers with a sigh of relief.

"Well, if everything's going to be okay... Lessee..." Riley snuggles in close, moving to steal a kiss, "I held the thought."

Clara doesn't resist the kiss, although she does start slightly in surprise. After a moment, she offers you a faint smile. "Silly Riley. You didn't have to. It's okay, really."

Riley blinks a few times, trying to look small and pitiful, not his knack. "Would you rather I hadn't? I could -try- to forget I suppose...But it was such a -nice- thought."

Clara tilts her head against the pillow to regard you curiously, then leans in to thieve a kiss of her own. "Are you sure?" she asks almost dubiously, trying to keep her fingers away from your hair. Unsuccessfully, of course.

Riley has no choice of course but to steal another kiss in return. Keeping accounts balanced is important, after all. "Love, if I'm sure of anything, I'm sure it was a nice thought."

Clara ahs softly, thoughtfully regarding her hand working through various and sundry chocolate curls. "I thought...well. I sort of expected you to be asleep when I got back," she admits softly, shifting slightly and ending up...*thwack* A kick in the leg. "Oh, no!"

Riley oofs softly, although he adds a rueful chuckle onto the end of that, reaching to wrap his arms gently around you. "S'okay, my shins will survive."

"Oh, saints, I'm so sorry," Clara natters, aghast, then melts into the embrace. "How you put up with me is beyond my imagination," she murmurs, reaching up to attempt a light kiss at your collarbone.

"Because I love you more than life itself," Riley replies softly, snuggling in close. "And because, random be-kickings aside, I feel terribly safe and content with you here."

"I really don't -mean- to kick you," Clara promises solemnly, sneaking her arms up about your shoulders. "But I can do my best to keep you safe and content," she adds seriously, cuddling quietly for a time.

Riley shifts down to steal another kiss. This isn't mere cat-burglary however, but an involved crime indeed. "S'okay," he murmurs at last, just grinning. "It means you're here."

Clara is perfectly cooperative. Isn't one supposed to cooperate, then call Security for help? She inhales a long breath after a moment, eyes opening particularly wide. "Here, indeed," she agrees, bemused. "Love...can I try something? Would you promise not to laugh?"

"That depends," Riley replies in an amused tone, "If you're going to find a new and inventive way to tickle me, no, I can't promise that. Otherwise I should be fine."

Clara snickers softly, and does slide a hand down to poke you in the ribs before wriggling away and out from under the covers. "Okay, don't laugh. You can tell me if you don't like it, but don't laugh," she requests, then gets up to close the blinds before vanishing into the closet.

Riley squirms back from the be-poking, chuckling softly. He shifts over onto his chest, waiting patiently.

Clara is actually in there for quite some time, likely working up courage. Finally, there's a soft throat-clearing as she pauses in the doorway, arms folded nervously over that cream colored item, fitted loosely with hints of lace at the neckline and hips. "Riley..." Nope, that's all she's getting out. And yes, that blush can probably be seen in Otaku.

Riley glances up as his name's called, and the only reason his jaw doesn't drop, is that he has his chin resting on crossed arms. He does look stunned however, and decidedly pleased. After a brief moment of just stunned-dom he manages a wolf whistle, albeit a soft one. "Oh -my-..."

Clara's eyes widen perhaps even more as she presses back against the door frame, brows shooting up. "You...you promised not to laugh," she reminds you in -extremely- nervous trepidation.

"Am I laughing?" Riley questions, still looking altogether startled. "I don't think I'm laughing. I think I'm drooling. It's different."

Clara blinks owlishly, then peers down at herself in bemusement before peeking back up somewhat shyly. "Does that mean you like it? Or that I need to go and make you a sandwich?"

"I do not think you need to make any sandwiches, no, oh wow... Yes, that would be a yes, I like it." Riley sighs in quiet wistfulness, "But you're way over -there-."

"Oh...that's right." Clara inhales a deep breath, gathering a bit more courage before crossing the few steps back to the bed and sinking to a seat on its edge cautiously. "It's comfortable," she observes dubiously. "The girls said men liked things like this..."

Riley flips over onto his back, reaching a hand to your leg and smiling at you upside-downly, "Hey pretty lady, whatcha' doin' in a place like this?" He mmrhrrms, "I think you would be hard pressed to find a guy who would -not- appreciate a scantily clad redhead. You're beautiful."

Clara unfolds her arms to cover your hand with hers, still stricken with a bad case of shyness. "This redhead is seldom so scantily clad unless she's in the shower." The other hand moves of its own volition to your hair tentatively. "Shopping was certainly full of revelations."

Riley shifts closer to you, half-smiling, "I should hang out in the shower more often then." Shifting to sit up he moves to shift his arms around you. "-Mine-." There's a pause, "Revelations?"

"I have -tried- to entice you into the shower, Riley Addison," Clara informs you with a wry laugh, amused out of her shyness as she returns the hug. "Mmm. It was interesting. I'd no clue of all the scanty things women could wear. Well, garters. I knew those. I had to wear one under that dress for the ball...but still. One thingamajig had metal struts, for goodness sake," she explains.

Riley blinks a few times before bending to place a series of kisses along your neck and to your collarbone. "That doesn't sound like much fun. You'd get all poked. This is much nicer, and the color's so pretty."

Clara goes very still for a time at the kisses, then shudders faintly and tangles a hand in your shirt. "It was an odd contraption," she agrees, somewhat distracted. "I liked the color...better than red, even. You really like it," she muses, plainly still astonished at this fact.

"Oh yes," Riley murmurs, "I like it." And then he sets about indicating just how much he likes it.

[And fade to black...]

After some time, Clara exhales a soft sigh and drags the blanket into place and snuggles in. "Ela was right," she murmurs vaguely, drifting a hand up over your shoulder. "Mine."

Riley snuggles in closer, sighing in decided contentment, although his accent is now even thicker than before. "Yours. Allllll yours, forever and ever and ever. What was she right about?"

Clara sends the hand from shoulder to your hair, combing through the curls at the top lazily, snickering softly and gesturing with her chin. "I made a comment that they couldn't be comfortable, and she told me that they weren't supposed to stay on long. I was suitably mortified."

Riley stifles a soft laugh, sounding a bit sheepish. "Sorry love, I guess it is a little backwards. Dressed all pretty and so what do I do? Set about getting you undressed. Kinda backwards."

"Oh, hear me complain. How I do complain," Clara recites as if from a cue card before stretching slightly to end in a claimed kiss. "Does this mean if I actually get brave enough to wear it again, you keep your hands to yourself?"

Riley makes a soft 'awww' sound. "Maybe if I keep my eyes covered with them. But otherwise I think I'm doomed. You're just too pretty."

Clara smirks, snuggling in again and redraping an arm over your chest possessively. "Flatterer. Now you know how I feel every time you put on jeans and flannel. But -I- behave," she notes with mock-primness.

Riley hmphs softly at that, snuggling in and barely stifling a yawn. "You're nicer than I am, though. Better behaved."

Clara tugs at the blanket a bit more to adjust the nest as she settles her head in against your neck, eyes falling closed contentedly. "Sometimes it's more fun not to behave," she murmurs. "Usually would rather be evil. Must be kind. I love you," she adds in explanation.

"Evil's good," Riley murmurs sleepily, already hitting a pretty heavily relaxed state as the exhaustion beast manages to catch up from where it's been following along for some time. "Love you too. More'n anything."

Clara doesn't bother attempting further movement, perhaps not quite as exhausted, but highly relaxed. Movement is best left for another time, aside from a quiet, feline-like yawn. "Staying here tonight," she murmurs. "Sleep now? No dreams," she adds softly.

"Sleep. Staying...please stay. So lonely without you. So terribly lonely. Nigh'love." And with that Riley fades from coherency into a drowsy state, and then into sleep.

Clara's transposition to sleep is far more hazy, leaving her to drift pleasantly in the half and half stage for some time after a quiet, "Sleep well, Greg" in a sleepily accented lilt.

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