|
|
Clara is, if by all accounts of scent, obviously in the galley. And since her cooking skills are currently on par with a rock's, she must be heating up pre-prepared something or other that smells rather like gyros.
Riley is sprawled at the edge of the deck, hanging bare feet over the edge. Well, until he smells food. Oooh, food, what an amazing concept. He moves lightly to his feet and pads over to the stairwell. "Smells amazing love..." He drops down the stairs one at a time, looking insanely cheerful.
Clara glances up from the heating unit, just as obnoxiously contented, and looking far more like something straight off the islands than an Infantry officer in a khaki swimsuit with a length of print cloth tied about her waist in a skirt. "I thought you'd like it. Georges packed some special so all I had to do was heat them up. You wouldn't be hungry at all, now would you, oh captor?"
Riley attempts to slide into the small area to swipe a kiss, "No, in fact I do not believe I am hungry." His expression is decidedly amused, "I think perhaps starving is a better word for it." His brows have not yet come down from their escalation at seeing you and he adds, "I like the outfit."
Clara allows the kiss to be stolen, although it must be a complicated thievery with as much time as she keeps you there. Finally, she checks the heating unit again, snickering. "Just a few more minutes, is all." The compliment gets a brilliant smile in return, although she pulls the knot of the skirt down a bit to reveal an AF logo. "Issue, would you believe it?"
Riley grins in a decidedly impish fashion, reaching to tap your shoulder. "But you my lady-love, are anything but standard issue."
Clara wrinkles her nose slightly, ducking down to pull a red can from the tiny refrigerator and hand it over. "Now, see, that's not true. Standard issue physician, part number 27018. Fits nearly any environment suited to the Infantry's needs, or the needs of one Admiral in particular."
Riley cannot resist another contented sigh. He's full of those this morning. He murmurs thanks for the soda, cracking open the top. "But as admirably skilled as you are at the latter, I'm afraid you're unique. Irreplaceable. We'll just have to keep a close eye on the maintenance schedule."
Clara pushes a cascade of curls from her eyes and reaches for a glass already on the counter of iced tea, grinning. "Sure about that? I mean, in ten, fifteen years, you might decide you need a newer model," she offers with a wink, leaning against the counter.
Riley brings up a hand, brushing fingers lightly against your jaw. His expression is rapt, and altogether head over heels. "I think in ten or fifteen years, I will only be able to marvel that I have had so much time with such a wonderful woman. And the anticipation of more years to come with the one who holds my heart."
Clara can only sigh, looking up at you with an utterly adoring expression as she lifts a hand to cover yours. "Oh, Greg..." she murmurs, and would say more except that the buzzer on the oven goes off, causing her to jump reflexively. "Worse timing than Niko," she decides, and steals a quick kiss before slipping away to remove the food from it.
Riley offers a bright grin along with the kiss. And like the pest he is, he does not vacate the area and provide space, instead keeping a hopeful eye on food. "It may have bad timing, but it smells awfully nice. Food would be a good thing."
Clara catches up a dish towel and thwaps you on the shoulder with it. "Either head up the stairs, mister, or become my galley slave," she threatens with a laugh. "Actually, go ahead and grab a plate from that cabinet if you want and one of the gyros, and I'll be right behind you. It's too gorgeous outside -not- to be up on the deck."
Riley drops into a hunched position, "Jyeess master, your slave I aaaam..." He does however grab a plate, juggling it and soda and all and looking altogether pleased. He moves towards the stairs, still doing a creditable Igor-hunch. "Asss my master commands..."
Clara tosses her hair, snickering outright as she uses the towel again to thwap you, although she's kind and doesn't roll up said towel first. "Evil man," she decides, snagging her own lunch and glass and following, then pauses upon reaching the deck. "Think they'd miss us if we never came back?" she asks thoughtfully.
Riley drops with something that approaches grace to a half sprawled seat on the deck, leaning against a bench. Settling his plate by his side he nods rather sadly. "I'm afraid they would. Although the temptation is there most assuredly." He scoops up his gyro, taking a bite and looking, if possible, even more pleased. "I do not think they allow those such as us to tarry overlong in heaven."
Clara drops to an easy sideways seat on the bench behind you, her own plate in her lap. She ruffles your hair before starting in on her own lunch, then sighs after a bit. "At least we get this time in heaven," she notes lazily, looking out over the water. "Then again, heaven's where you find it."
Riley all but inhales the first third of his gyro, not managing to reply until it is set aside for a brief moment. "Besides," he points out, grinning up at you. "We would probably get bored after too long, accustomed as we are to chaos."
Clara raises a brow at you with a faint smirk, then takes a sip of her tea before setting aside her lunch farther down on the bench and leaning down to essay a rather convincing and emphatic kiss. "Bored yet?" she asks innocently, then, reaching for her food again.
From the rather blissfully stunned look on Riley's face, that would be a no. He shakes his head emphatically, "No, um, I would have to say a decided no. This is really far too pleasant to be legal." He sets about continuing to inhale his food.
Clara makes inroads on her own lunch as well, looking exceedingly pleased and even slightly smug. Crumpling up the wrapper from the sandwich onto the plate and setting it aside, she ruffles your hair again. "I think this is illegal, actually. I won't tell if you won't though. They'd banish us to someplace scary. Like the fourth floor."
Riley finishes off his gyro, even down to the remains of sauce on his fingers. Abnormal, yes, but hey, it's a vacation. "The fourth floor would indeed be scary. I cannot understand how Nick survives up there. I keep expecting to need to mount a rescue mission."
"He has Ela for protection," Clara explains with a laugh, edging off the bench and collecting both plates to take downstairs. She returns a moment later, untying her skirt and tossing it in a manner to land over your hair. "Although if she's going to cook, we could offer to rescue anyway?"
Riley acks as he is be-skirted, snickering. Tugging it off so he can regard you he grins broadly, expression still entirely free of worry for once. "It would be amusing at least. And I can rescue the kitten a lot. Kittens require a great deal of rescue after all."
"Oh, hey yeah!" Clara agrees brightly, delighted at the mention of anything that purrs. Well, and is that little. Not Zaeltans. "Kittens have to be rescued. From themselves mainly, though. Excuse me a moment," she adds, and then without warning slips over the railing, a splash following an instant later.
Okay, that elicits a startled noise indeed, and Riley scrambles to the side of the ship as if in an attempt to rescue. Swimming is still a survival skill to Riley, he does not yet comprehend the idea of doing it for fun. "You okay?" His tone is alarmed.
Clara surfaces just in time to hear the question and peers up at you with a laugh while treading water. "Of course I am, love. I haven't been more okay in -years-. Maybe not ever. Gonna join me, or just watch?" she adds rather roguishly, then dives under the surface again.
Riley looks more than a little hesitant about this. That's a -lot- of water. And it -moves-. Still, if he's supposed to... He carefully shrugs off the t-shirt he's wearing, folding it aside. Now dressed solely in the shorts he usually sleeps in he slips over the railing. Ah well, if one is doomed, might as well be doomed in style. He jumps from the side of the ship, tucking into a ball as he drops. SPLOOSH.
Clara has, thankfully, moved back several yards as if rather suspecting something of this nature. Before you can surface, though, she's already swimming over towards where you should come up, and ducks under the water to assist, mainly by tickling. Breaking through the surface again, she snickers cheerfully. "Don't worry. I won't let you drown." It helps that she's not tickling anymore.
Riley manages to surface, curls plastered down his face until he sets to treading water long enough to push them back. "Drowning would be bad," he asserts. He does look a bit startled still, as if stunned he's doing this. Then he snickers, "You're insane, you know that, right?"
"Right," Clara agrees affably, pushing back at the water to come in close and venture a kiss that begins nicely but ends in an attempt to dunk you before she eels about to swim away again, laughing joyously. "Oh, -saints- I missed this," she exclaims upon reaching what she hopes is a safe distance. "I think I may have been a fish in a past life, or something."
Riley makes a really unique sqwerking sound as he is dunked, scrambling to surface again amongst the waves. Maybe he was a rock in a past life. He does look amused however, pushing back curls again with a ragged snicker. "Wench!" It's a pretty safe distance it seems, as while Riley may know how to swim, he is not sure enough of himself in waves to be able to exact much revenge. "You were a wench in a past life and a wench in this one," he asserts, still snickering.
"I don't -remember- waiting tables in a tavern," Clara notes innocently, swimming forward again to stop just before you and peer up winsomely. "What would you say to a nap up on the deck, mister?" Food, a swim, warm sunlight...all the right ingredients for the sleepies to attack.
Riley is not about to disagree with this suggestion, as he really obviously has quite a lot to learn about swimming. He's exerting far more energy than the task really requires, the waves throwing him for a bit of a loop. "You must've blocked out that part." He nods however, or it's probably a nod, kind of hard to tell at this stage of the game. "Sounds like a good plan. Napping, yeah."
Clara must be really annoying then, as she lets another wave push her into you and takes advantage to try to steal another kiss before zipping away towards the rope ladder with about as much effort as a seal, and far more contented. She holds on to the ladder with one hand and reaches the other out to you. "Come on, you can go up first," she offers with a wink.
Riley takes the proffered hand, using it to lever himself closer to the boat. He's looking decidedly sheepish. He even tried to return the kiss, just less than successfully. "Uh, err, that's okay, ladies first? That kind of thing?"
Clara beams at you with a fair amount of delight, and affably heads up the ladder first as offered, but only to turn once back on board and reach down to help you up as well. "Trust me, love, in about thirty minutes you're going to be more relaxed that you've ever been in your life. I didn't make you swim for nothing," she explains with a fond smile.
Riley accepts the hand up gratefully, clambering up the ladder and onto the deck to drip. "You didn't make me swim," he points out, "I could have stayed up here. I think that's something that takes getting used to though. Waves were unexpected."
"Waves in the ocean. How about that," Clara teases, ignoring the drippiness as she pulls in for a hug, then heads over to settle down to the deck after tugging a canvas cushion off the bench. "Come join me?" she requests, holding out a hand.
Riley returns the hug, although he snickers sheepishly. "I knew they were -there-," he explains as he accepts your hand and moves to join you. "Just not what that would entail." Looking startled he stifles a yawn.
Clara doesn't look surprised at the yawn at all, but instead rather sleepily approving as she cuddles in, still ignoring any water that is likely drying rapidly. "Poor Greg. So mean to you," she murmurs. "Love you, though," she adds drowsily, then falls silent to simply enjoy the warmth and sounds of the waves until falling asleep.
Riley shifts an arm over you, likewise ignoring the drying dampness. "Love you too evil mean wonderful love of my life..." He doesn't spend as much time awake, instead dropping off fairly swiftly in the comfort of the afternoon sun.
[A few hours later]
Clara comes awake slowly, not opening her eyes for quite some time but rather just enjoying the circumstances. Unthinkingly, she tightens her arm over your chest, snuggling a bit closer and murmuring something vague and fairly incoherent, but it sure does sound almost frighteningly content.
The movement, as well as the sun starting to drift lower in the sky, bring Riley from a hard sleep to a mostly awake zoning state. He shifts a bit closer to you in return, "Nice boat." He too sounds enormously pleased with the situation.
Clara snickers softly without opening her eyes, drifting her fingers over your far shoulder lazily. "Thanks," she murmurs quietly. "Built it myself. All that spare time."
"Really?" Riley questions in teasing gullibility. "Wow, that's neat. I never knew you built boats, you should put that on your business cards."
"Oh, sure. Clara Aleron...doctor, Major, drummer, and boatbuilder. It's all there in my resume," she teases right back, dropping her hand to poke your ribs. "Do I get business cards?"
Riley squirms from the evil fingers, snickering. Then rather sheepishly he fumbles for his t-shirt. "If you like," he says as he disentangles himself to ease the shirt back on over skin perhaps less than well designed for napping in the sun. "It would be very cheerful. And it would confuse the vid people."
Clara sits up as well, blinking at the t-shirt before making a decided acking sound of dismay. "Oh, no...I didn't even think. I don't burn..." she begins, looking terribly sheepish before adding wryly, "None of those job descriptions is what the vid people wanted me to do, I promise."
Riley offers an amused grin, shaking his head. "I didn't get hit too badly. I had sense earlier to use sun screen. I guess the water just thinned it a bit. I'm fine." He shakes his head, "Very rarely even saw actual sun when I was really young." He shakes his head, "Just point me at the vid people love, I'll be an evil goon."
Clara leans back against the bench to stretch languorously, then holds a hand out, sounding relieved. "I'm glad you thought, then. I almost never use sunscreen, but then I sort of grew up with a permanent tan," she notes, peering at her arm thoughtfully, then laughs. "You'll defend my honor? Really?"
Riley shifts back to sprawl against the bench, reaching up to take your hand. "I have been badly sunburned once. It was enough of an experience to keep me from being careless again." He nods, "Of course, m'lady love. That's my job."
"You most certainly don't," Clara agrees fervently. "I've treated people with severe sunburns. The symptoms are entirely unpleasant." Running her thumb over the back of your hand comfortably, she replies with exceeding fondness, "My own knight in shining armor. Wow. I think I could learn to like this."
Riley settles into a position to watch the gradually lowering sun. "Actually, it's a beat up t-shirt and shorts," he corrects in an amused tone. "But I can still do what I can."
Clara lifts her free hand to run through salt water fuzzed curls, tilting her head back to close her eyes against the warmth of the lowering sun. "T-shirt and shorts are good, though. Far easier to snuggle in than a dress uniform." She tilts her head down to grin over at you. "You, sir, look like today has done you a world of good."
Riley squeezes your hand gently, sprawling a bit more, altogether careless, on the deck. "Today has done a great deal of good indeed. It is as if we have dropped off the face of the planet, all by ourselves in a world of wind and water and warmth."
"And we," Clara notes while shifting to her knees in the attempt to plant one on the other side of your legs so as to trap you, "are almost totally incognito at the moment, aside from that radio I'll lay odds you're still wearing. I registered our course and destination with the harbormaster, but that's about it. You're trapped, by the way."
Riley is well and duly trapped, but looks by no means displeased, instead grinning rather sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm wearing the radio," he admits. "As less than thrilled as Nick was that I was leaving..." He nods, "Entirely and forever, yup."
Clara folds her arms for a moment and attempts to look displeased, but just can't. She's far, far too happy to have you captive. "It's good to have at least one line of quick communication," she agrees, lifting her hands to hopelessly muss your hair. "Niko really didn't want you to go?"
Riley endures the hair ruffling in decided amusement, and seems quite altogether pleased. "Yeah, nice, yup." He nods, "He said to go, but he seemed really unpleased."
Clara shakes her head, resting her hands on her knees and looking distinctly puzzled. "That just doesn't sound like Niko. I'd have thought he'd be itching to get you out for a day or two for rehabilitation. Uh, make that recuperation," she amends, blushing faintly through a grin.
Riley just lifts his shoulders in something of a shrug. "I don't understand it either. Probably didn't wanna be left alone with the new job I guess. I was so danged tired though, leaving was a good thing."
Clara gives you a rather apologetic look, fairly worries, and brushes the fingers of one hand along your cheek. "It's not going to be long, though," she offers. "When are we going back? Tomorrow?" Never would be her choice of answer at the moment, but she knows better.
"Yeah, probably best," Riley agrees, rather reluctant to admit the fact. "As wonderful as all this is..."
Clara can't help but smile faintly, leaning in to venture a rather careful kiss. "Hey, it's okay. The boat's not going anywhere, and we can take her out from time to time. Maybe take Niko and Ela with us for an evening trip." Hello Leila torture. ;) "If I'm any judge, just these two days are going to do us both a world of good." She stretches back and stifles a yawn. "I think I may go heat up dinner. Chicken strips and french fries work?"
"They have already done a great deal of good indeed." Riley perks up a bit, "Food, what a wonderful idea, it sounds terrific. May I be of assistance?"
Clara rises easily, scooping her skirt off the bench and tying it about her waist before holding out hand with a grin. "My galley slave. You can keep me from burning anything. I may forget that it's dinner time, though," she warns, a brow lifting in amusement. "You're awfully distracting sometimes."
Riley accepts the hand, although he stands without requiring the help, once again light on his feet. "I shall be on my best behavior then, for I confess I am rather hungry. I shall slave most efficiently however so that I may distract you terribly once the food is safe."
"Me too," Clara admits sheepishly, not releasing your hand as she heads down the stairs. "See? We're being very good patients. Jones would be proud. Exercise, food, enough sleep, distractions. Necessary bits to life," she decides.
Riley follows along afterwards, snickering somewhat. "Great, what we've needed all along, to be on a boat. It causes us to behave. If we'd just know that -before-..."
Clara pulls a tomato from the fridge and hands it over. "Slice, oh galley slave," she commands with mock imperialism, but softens the command with a kiss. "You -are- Navy, you know. Maybe you can convince them you should be on the water?"
Riley accepts the tomato with a crisp salute, belied entirely by his grin. He sets about arranging to slice it. "I dunno, as insane as it is, I kind of like the Complex. Although I must admit I miss starships terribly some days. This boat seems very home-like."
[From here is cooking and distractions and whatnot. In other word, RP had to pause here for RL.]