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Editor's note: Long, sappy, and slightly confusing, I still like this log a lot. The ending is a little (a lot) overly sappy, so
run away now if that's a problem.Clara is no longer in bed, but is instead curled up in one corner of the couch, legs folded beneath her as she studies a datareader, half frowning at it in concentration.
Riley is in the bed however, although since he's wearing shorts and a t-shirt in AFN blue, it's likely he hasn't been here all morning. He does however wake up, stirring in the bed. Realizing he's alone in it he pulls himself to a seated position, rubbing at his eyes.
Clara glances up at the noise, as she evidently left and returned after you came back and fell asleep, hair still damp from a recent shower and fresh sweats and t-shirt on. A faint smile touches her lips as she asks, "Have a good nap?"
Riley nods amiably, ruffling through his curls and setting them more or less to rights. "Yeah, I didn't exactly -intend- to take one mind, but it works. A good morning though, I finally managed the number of chin-ups I could do before I was shot. I suddenly feel less old. How are you this morning?"
"Going through significantly less kleenex," Clara replies, shaking her head with a grin. "You never were old, though." She clicks off the datareader and leans forward to set it on the table. "Besides, it's not morning, either," she teases.
Riley clambers from the bed to pad over to the closet. He rummages in it for clothing and eventually gives up and pulls out a uniform for lack of other clean clothing to wear. "I felt it for a bit though. Gray hair, out of shape, all that." He nods to the other, "Fewer kleenex is good. Feeling better is a very good thing indeed. It was morning though, even if it isn't now."
Following you with her eyes, Clara's brows lift at the sight of the uniform, although she doesn't seem upset, but merely curious. "The gray hair is distinguishing," she assures, only the occasional sniffle interrupting her speech. "Going back on duty, then?"
Riley shakes his head slightly, "Not right now, no. But I uh, have a limited amount of civilian clothing, and none of it clean at the moment." He offers a sheepish grin, "I'll be right back." He heads into the necessary.
Clara can't help but snicker at that, unfolding in a stretch as you go. "You need to descend upon laundry, then," she calls towards the door, then gets to her feet to cross over and straighten the covers.
Riley returns a few moments later somewhat damp and in uniform. By some miracle, the uniform nearly fits him. "I do, I do indeed. But then we have a long standing feud and all. Still, they get my uniforms back to me in time, I can't fault them the what...two, three civilian sets of clothes I have? Sweats, the jeans, and those shorts..."
Clara glances up from setting a pillow in place and can't help but smile as her eyes travel your frame. "You're regaining weight rather nicely," she observes, setting down said pillow and crossing over in the attempt to intercept you in a hug. "So we just need to take you shopping for new civvies. Casual clothes at least. The only other alternative would get chilly after awhile," she adds with a laugh.
Riley carefully returns the hug, bending over as carefully as possible to rest his chin on your shoulder. "But, um... Aren't civilian clothes an abomination on the universe?"
"Mm-hmm. You know what this means, then don't you?" Clara ventures, playfully nuzzling your hair, standing on her toes to reach it. "Means we just have to find you some groundpounder fatigues," she explains, stifling a snicker.
Riley eases back up, still quite careful despite his look of alarm. "Ack! No... no, no... See, Clara, I love you dearly, but there are -limits- on the cruelty that can be inflicted. My mother would come here and turn me over her -knee- if I did that."
Clara bursts into easy laughter, although a note of concern steals into her expression. "Oh, c'mon. Surely you spacejockies have something similar? BDUs in...oh, I dunno. Black and gray?" She steps back and tilts her head to consider you thoughtfully. "Are you hurting again?"
Riley looks rather sheepishly amused, "See, the naval equivalent of BDUs are designed for wearing in space, and dealing with null gee. They look a lot like those be-snapped pajama things you have in Medbay." He shakes his head quickly, "Not as such. Stiff and all. Workout this morning, that kind of thing."
Clara snaps her fingers easily, then waves at the freshly made bed. "Plop down there on your stomach, sailor, and take off that jacket. You didn't just fall in love with a mad scientist, but also one who happens to be trained in physical therapy," she explains with an affable grin.
Riley shakes his head quickly again, ears reddening a bit. "No, no that's okay love. You're not feeling well, why doncha' sit back down, everything's fine."
Clara blinks in faint surprise, straightening, then nods compliantly with widened eyes and returns to the couch, folding back into one corner to regard you curiously. "Let me know if you change your mind?"
Riley slides down to sit on the couch as well, next to you. "Yes, yes, of course." He looks sheepish, "Sorry."
Clara tilts her head to peer at you sidelong with a look of quiet wryness. "A giro for your thoughts," she offers, reaching over a hand to one of yours.
Riley interlaces his fingers through yours, easing closer to you, as if afraid to offend. "Um, I guess I lose if I say I was gone all but blank?" He shakes his head, "Actually I was thinking about last night, you said you'd try and explain your angle on things."
Clara lifts her free hand to your chin, gently attempting to turn your head towards her as she explains very seriously, "-Relax-. I love you, and I'm not going to be upset with anything you do." At the last, she drops her hand to join her other around yours, gently rubbing at your wrist with her thumb. "Aaah, that. What were you thinking about it?"
Riley does relax a hair, although he looks a bit sheepish still. He carefully arranges himself into the couch, pulling one arm up in an attempt to put it around you with measured care. "Nothing in particular, just remembering the conversation."
Clara leans against you gratefully, head resting against your shoulder. Unfortunately, with hair freshly washed, you might be getting a curl or two flying up in your face. "I've been thinking about it a lot, too. Kind of hard not to, really."
Riley flashes an abashed grin, although it does not quite reach his eyes. "Maybe we should snag food and soda and a white-board and make a summit meeting out of it, eh?"
Clara can't help but return the grin, laughing quietly as she squirms about suddenly to face you with a thoughtful look. "Food and soda we can do. A white-board isn't necessary, though, and I'm -awful- at negotiations. I swear having a cross-cultural relationship is nearly as difficult as diplomacy, though," she teases with a wink, then drops her voice to utter seriousness. "But to me it's worth it."
Riley squeezes you close a moment before unfolding himself with care from the couch. "Soda I can manage right away, if you can wait on food I can cook? Maybe you can get started while I set something on?"
Clara's jaw drops for a moment in delighted surprise. "You're going to -cook-? Did I say I loved you before? Heck, I -really- love you now," she decides, shifting up to a seat on the arm of the couch and falling quiet in thought. After a moment, a rueful laugh escapes. "I don't know where to start."
Riley chuckles ruefully, offering a can of the orange soda he's fetched from the fridge. "Begin at the beginning?"
Clara accepts the can with a grateful nod, cracking it open and staring at it for a long moment. "At the beginning. Whew...um, okay. Ah...I guess to start out with, I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, if you'll let me."
Riley sets about rummaging in the kitchen area, tugging down a large pan and a battered tea-kettle. Water is added to the latter and it is set on to boil. "I'm hardly likely to object, love." His voice is quiet, but pitched to carry to where you sit.
Clara leans back against the wall behind the arm of the couch, peering at her soda. "Except that when I say that, it has significant repercussions to me. Oh, nothing bad, just important. From my upbringing and the little I know of pairbonding...bear with me, Riley. This may sound odd. It's like lighting one candle from two. The pair retain their separate identities, yet their souls blend, becoming a synthesis...more together than what they were before separately."
Riley has set about chopping up various vegetables, adding them to slices of chicken into the large pan. He simply nods, "It is not so different a concept that I am unfamiliar with the idea."
Clara takes a long drink watching the cooking without really observing it. "What doesn't really make sense, and has to be held on faith, is that separation not only tears apart what was joined, but leaves both halves less than they were before. And remarkably, what I am...what I can do, it has nothing to do with it. The conduction happens at a level above and beyond measurable senses."
Riley pauses over the consideration of this, adding various spices and liquids into the pan. He stirs a moment, "Now that is a concept that remains uncodified as I was brought up, but the flavor of it seems quite accurate."
Clara half smiles, tilting her head amicably. "That doesn't surprise me. I told you last night much of this was based in religion for me. And by the letter of what I was raised to believe, marriage actually is required, although just what that defines is no longer as stringently held. Actually, any sort of permanent bond falls into this category if both people are amenable. For example, Edward and I, irregardless of what we share on a mental level, neither of us wanted that sort of commitment. So it involves a great deal of personal choice as well."
Riley continues stirring the contents of his pan, the smell of chicken, potatoes, carrots and such filtering through the room. "Religion becomes a tricky word, translated directly it means only 'way of life'. In that term the Code is religion, yes? It's certainly treated with similar reverence. Although it lacks the... well deity, and the faith of course. Kashid's got hundreds of religions, only one Code. But elsewise, it still sounds quite similar."
Clara scoots back to lean more fully against the wall, feet coming up to balance together on the arm of the chair as well as she considers this, then nods. "I'd not thought of it that way, but you've a point," she agrees. "Earth hasn't any particular code to follow, other than the rules of society." She sighs softly and rubs at her head. "Regarding similarity, then, does this have anything at all to do with what you were trying to explain to me?"
Riley lets the pan simmer to itself a moment as he acquires plates from another cabinet. "It is part of it, yes. Although the bulk of it is a touch more secular. In regards to personal honor, and ... I must use the words I know, or I have none, and balance. The whole thing in regards to the dramliza and the A'trezla was a tangent, although one I would not mind making exploration of. Honalee says it is by no means impossible." He shrugs.
Clara rests her arms at full length over her knees, soda held in both hands as she thinks this over. "There's more to it on my end, but I'm afraid it's been years since I've even read the bits governing relationships. I'll have to do a bit of studying," she admits somewhat sheepishly. "It's a choice that's yours, Riley. If you'd like to work on this...well, the concept as you understand it, I'll certainly try my hardest."
Riley scoops food onto plates, and brings it and silverware over. He proffers a plate to you with the approximation of a fluid bow. Very much an approximation, as his back is still giving him trouble. "Now that I have bribed you with caffeine and food may I try to explain the differences?"
Clara drops down lightly onto an actual seat on the couch and sets the soda on the table, accepting the plate and silverware with a rueful smile. "You didn't have to bribe me with either, although I'm not complaining. You explain, I'll be quiet and listen."
Riley grins sheepishly, enfolding himself onto the couch as well. "Bribes go a long way." He pauses a moment, thinking. "I must start with melant'i, I am sorry, I know it didn't go over so well last time. Melant'i is who one is in relation to current circumstances. Also who one is in sum, encompassing all possible persons one might be. For example, ergh, mine is complicated, but I shall try it. I am an Admiral, and hence am due respect by some. But in my mother's home I am second son, but also cha'leket rather than brother to my brothers and sister. But it is not just social position and rank, but the sum of ones accomplishments and considered honor."
Food being nudged from side to side for a moment before she takes a bite, Clara is silent as you speak, not responding other than to look thoughtful. "The synthesis of self and relation to environment?" she ventures finally, somewhat hesitant. "This makes sense...if I'm understanding you correctly."
Riley nods at that, poking up a bite of carrot before continuing. "That holds the basis of it. It is a... well, personal honor. It can be damaged or altered by ones actions, or by the actions of those whose melant'i is joined. For example, Kyara is encompassed by my melant'i as my ward. Her actions reflect on me in essence. If she behaves with honor mine is enhanced, without it my own is damaged, you see? It is conceptually something that exists in other societies, we have just named it and given it codification. And redress, by way of Balance."
Clara pauses to nudge a bit of mushroom to one side, (if there's any in the dish, that is), then spears it absently. "I understand this, I think, although my family and...the society I grew up in, they use that reflection for far more shallow purposes. It differs vastly from the faith I was raised with, but it certainly makes sense."
Riley snags another carrot, he's partial to carrots. "A'trezla," he says quietly, "Lifemating, without the whole of the dramliz discussion added into it. It is a combining of melant'i, and... well the words as they say them are...Two having seen the face of each others heart, and having seen, join hands and hearts and lives together."
"There's the similarity you mentioned then?" Clara comments just as quietly, not looking up from her food, but taking another absent bite. "The element of personal choice combined with the willingness to compromise self to achieve..." Her words trail off as she represses a sigh and finishes off another portion of chicken.
"That and being a'trelza, it is being one melant'i. Two made one, and inseparable from the other without ... great damage. One always for the other, and the other always for the one." Riley looks rather chagrined, "I suddenly wish I were more the linguist."
Clara shakes her head rapidly, smiling wistfully at her plate before setting it aside, having finished. "You do wonderfully," she assures, then leans back into the couch, pulling her knees in again. "What hath been joined together, let no man put asunder," she quotes quietly, then tilts her head to you tentatively. "I understand the idea of two made one. I was raised with it."
Riley continues picking out the carrots as best he can, preferring them. "Hence, to share melant'i, to offer to set mine beneath yours, as I did the other night...Marriage is not for life on Kashid necessarily. Very often it is not. It is contracted for the cause of producing children, or support, for a set length of time. To suborn one's melant'i to another is a lifelong thing."
For once, Clara isn't admonishing that more than carrots needs to be eaten, although it looks as though the thought crosses her mind for a moment before being discarded. "Contract marriages are fairly popular on Earth, too," she agrees. "Particularly on the mainland continents and in the larger cities." She shrugs. "Most of the people on the islands prefer contracts, even, it seems. It's...safer." She frowns slightly at the far wall. "I understand it as a means of practicality, but..." She purses her lips and actually blushes faintly. "My upbringing dictates that sort of bond be -required- for pairbonding or producing children, for that matter." She chuckles, shrugging. "I was a bad girl. My grandmother would be aghast if she knew."
Riley snags a potato or two as well, it seems he intends to eat the whole thing, just in stages. "My parents marriage was originally contracted. I believe I was eight or nine when they decided they were a'trelza. I remember the party rather distinctly. I had to wear a bow tie, it was quite traumatic."
As nothing else, this bring a tension-relieving laugh from Clara as she lets her head fall back against the back of the couch. "I don't -want- to hear it, mister. If you saw -half- the fancy little horridly stiff and lacy party dresses I wore as a kid...blech." Her head falls to one side to regard you with a curious look, one hand lifting to your hair for a moment to put a curl back in order. "This...a'trelza. Is this what you wanted to ask me? Or am I being presumptive?"
Riley just nods rather sheepishly, swallowing the vegetable he's consuming. "It, it was. Without the bowties."
"I don't have any bowties," replies Clara after a long moment of silence. "So no strings attached." After a beat, she shifts sideways to lean against the arm of the couch and face you. "Yes."
Riley literally drops his fork with a soft clatter, so stunned is he. This is obviously -not- the reaction he'd been expecting. Can I mention stunned again? Floored? Positively thrown beyond all doubt? He just blinks, that being all he can manage.
Clara's breath catches at the clatter before her jaw comes closed with a near audible snap. "I did it again," she murmurs, then hunts for words, every line in her body tensed. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't..." She exhales a pained sigh and reaches for her plate, starting to rise to take it back to the cooking area.
Riley sets his plate aside swiftly, trying to snag you before you can escape. "Clara, please, Clara don't go. There is nothing to apologize. I am just a bit stunned, please, a moment to let me catch up..."
Clara pulls up short with a slight jerk, but manages to set her plate back down before it falls to the floor, eyes wide in a solemn face. "As long as you ever need," she promises quietly, then wisely falls silent.
Riley does take a moment to find his voice again, and language. "Clara, chernubia... I..." He gives up on words and instead sets about attempting to swamp you in a massive hug, ignoring his back and any other concerns.
Clara certainly isn't going to object to that, and balances her knees against the edge of the couch as she tightens her arms about you, keeping enough presence of mind to slide them below the troubled area on your back. "Translate?" she asks in a small, hopeful voice, very muffled.
Riley holds you all the tighter a moment, before chuckling raggedly, "It's a confection, in this case it means sweetling I suppose. Ask me a question in any of the languages I speak I can answer you immediately in that tongue. But to translate between them, language does not work that way I am afraid. I mean that I love you, and I wish I knew how to thank you. I...I did not think that you would.. but..."
Clara can't suppress a soft laugh, giving up on leaning against the couch and attempting to somehow land in your lap, albeit very carefully. "I don't melt in the rain," she promises, then pulls away just enough to search your face. "Did you really think I hadn't considered what a long-term relationship might mean? What it held potential for?"
Riley just regards you in decided wonderment a moment, "I...you said at the beginning... I didn't think you... you had said..."
Clara lifts a hand to brush the backs of her fingertips along your jawline, shaking her head slowly. "I said I would be no one's wife or mother. You've not asked me to either marry you or have your children. I can't do the first and still be an officer, and quite honestly, the latter would be horribly inconvenient for both of us. I never said I wouldn't agree to join with one man when the time was right."
Riley squeezes you close again a moment, "But you see, what I asked, I thought far beyond either wife or mother. A commitment unaskable almost but for my lack of manners."
Clara straightens enough to kiss your forehead and tilts her head to regard you with a faint smile. "And when I agreed, it was to something well beyond the realm of husband or father. A requirement in my mind for either of those, but not itself requiring them. I wouldn't..." There's a blush again. "Your birthday? I couldn't...not if I hadn't already been willing to offer you all that I am."
Riley shakes his head slightly, easing back against the couch, although leaving his arms around you. "A difference in culture once again. There is obviously a great wealth of difference."
Clara rolls her eyes, shaking her head in a quiet laugh. "Not really? Most of Earth is rather relaxed about that. Just my family, of all things. So naturally, both my mother and I end up having children with men with had no intentions of spending our lives with. Three cheers for irony. But...Eddie was the only man I ever made that mistake with," she explains quietly. "But are you sure? I mean, that really is a point. We come from vastly different cultures with different beliefs. Are you certain this is what you want?"
Riley's fingers interlock behind your back, it would be quite tricky for you to escape at this point. "Clara, it's you I want, forever and ever and always and a few more evers for good measure. That much I'm certain of. I have never felt the way I do about anyone else before."
Clara is certainly no Houdini, and seems quite content to be captured, although her expression is decidedly serious. She brushes at the hair above your ear with one hand, nodding once. "And I've never needed anything the way I do you." She transfers her gaze to her hand. "Then we have an understanding?"
"I think we do," Riley murmurs softly, simply smiling at you in a decided fondness. "And I need to go buy a dictionary."
Clara shakes her head in a slight movement, eyes lighting with what could easily pass for joy. "Whatever for? You already speak both languages. I'll just have to learn Edrilac," she replies with perfect reasonability. "Above and beyond being able to discuss a patient's condition, which is half Latin anyway."
Riley offers a rather amused grin, "It's just better than half of the endearments I know are in Edrilac, or the half and half middle wordage ground. It's a ... more nuanced language."
Clara drops slightly closer to lean her forehead against your, eyes shining as she links her fingers behind your neck. "I can learn. I would learn anything for you," she notes, as if this were the only possible response. "I look at it this way...if I can learn how to communicate without the symbols, I can figure out the words that go on the concepts." She hesitates, a though occurring to her. "Your family...I'm not Kashidian..."
Riley offers you a rather amusedly vague grin, his eyes rather twinkling. "Clara, my family is so twisted as it is, they're hardly going to object to something as relatively normal as a codeless lifemating."
Clara relaxes significantly, settling back in to continue setting a few curls to disarray, then combing her fingers through them, grinning slightly. "I wish I could give you the same assurance with my family. Mother and Niles only care that I'm happy, but...well. You're a...-colonist-," she explains, dropping her voice to a mock-aghast whisper on the final word before snickering.
Riley can't quite stifle a snicker at that, "Should I ever have occasion to meet your extended family, should I wear some sort of peasant outfit and shamble a lot? I can develop a hick accent as well?"
Clara laughs merrily, eyes still on your hair as she continues to probably hopelessly tangle it in places. "Not on your life. My grandmother would be far beyond the range of 'I told you so'. And you wouldn't want the lecture you'd get either, trust me."
Riley grins at that, relaxing back against the couch once again, albeit still with care. "Dress whites and formal mode then, underling to Delm. Probably equally annoying in its own way."
Clara nods affably, but makes her way off your lap to kneel on the couch to your side. "I wouldn't be surprised if you'd ever met Grandfather back on Earth, for that matter. He still keeps his fingers in politics now and again. Now, where does it hurt?" she asks with a raised brow.
Riley looks rather sheepish, "If so, his opinion may not be the greatest of me. I was, problematic, on Terra." He blinks several times, "Fine, I'm fine, really, just sore is all, not a big deal, it's okay." This last is almost a torrent of wordage.
Clara folds her arms and gives you a classic doctor look, one that rather blatantly states without words that she isn't buying it. "Grandfather's far more easy going that Grandmother is. He always approved of the colonies." She hesitates, then grins. "He'd better. But somehow, dearest, I don't believe you a bit. Where does it hurt?" she repeats patiently.
Riley just sighs softly, "My back's giving me trouble. It's not really a big deal, I managed this morning in the rec hall fine and everything."
Clara just shakes her head and clambers off the couch. "Shirt off, please," she requests, going for her medical bag before returning to the couch.
Riley sighs quietly, fumbling off the uniform jacket first and then attempting the t-shirt. The latter is significantly trickier than the first, for not only does it require his arms to go over his head, but it's a shirt on the smaller side. There are muffled comments as he, his hair, and the shirt all become entangled.
Clara allows herself a thoroughly sappily fond smile as she leans in to assist, stealing a kiss as the shirt comes free, then turns back to her medical bag to start removing supplies. "Turn 'round," she adds, spinning a finger in a circle in demonstration.
Riley is looking terribly embarrassed and not at all pleased, although the kiss helps. He does as he's told, shifting around. He leans his weight against the back of the couch. "I swear, we need to go on vacation some day."
"No arguments here, that's for sure," Clara decides, the cool hissing of a hypo sounding at odd intervals on your back before she starts a careful examination, fingers exceedingly gentle. "You name the time and the place, and I'll bat my eyelashes at Conley to pull the time off."
"The election's tomorrow, maybe after that?" Riley's tone is quietly hopeful, although there are the occasional pauses as your fingers find sensitive spots. "Somewhere to go sailing maybe?"
This earns you a kiss on the back of the neck before Clara drops back down with her legs folded beneath her as she starts to work in an analgesic and antibiotic topical. "I would follow you into the flames of hell, and you ask me to go -sailing-? Yes, yes, and ...did I mention yes?" She works in silence for a moment, then asks without looking up from her work, "Do you think there will be problems over the election?"
Riley can't restrain a quiet laugh, "You kept mentioning it before, and it sounded really wonderfully nice you see." He shakes his head slightly, "Not really, although there is usually a little lunacy right afterwards getting things sorted out. But I have to be there during the actual proceedings."
"In that utterly adorable uniform," Clara says with a rather reminiscent sigh. "Honalee was certainly right that you fellows look just particularly spiffy in those. I, thankfully, will hide in Medbay in a nice, normal, everyday uniform. That is...if I might return to duty in the morning, sir?" she adds teasingly.
Riley mumbles something about a woman having designed the uniforms, since they seemed to be the ones that liked them. He seems amused however. "It depends on how you're feeling in the morning, love."
Clara pokes you in the side after finishing up, chuckling. "Difficult, maddening, infuriating man. I have no idea what to do with you sometimes. I'm -fine-. I haven't coughed in hours, even." She trails a finger along the back of your arm, then reluctantly hands over your shirt. "Thanks for taking care of me, by the way."
Riley sets about attempting to get his shirt back on, although it appears to be somewhat confusing to do so. He then redons his jacket. "I didn't exactly do much of anything dear, I wish I could have helped more."
Clara laughs quietly, restowing the few items back in her medical bag before zipping it closed and lowering it to the floor before rising to come around and sit on the other side of the couch in the direction you're facing, looking fairly self-assured. "Oh, no. You helped a great deal, actually."
Riley finishes rebuttoning the jacket, blinking several times in confusion. "I am afraid I am unaware how then, although I appreciate the opportunity to have done so.
Clara reaches out to attempt to re-unbutton your jacket again, really just being playful more than anything else as she grins. "You were you. You stayed and talked to me. You held me at night. You loved me. I've seen more than enough recently to know that the healing process is connected to lots of things, not just physical."
Riley chuckles quietly, watching your fingers and not interfering. "These are things I can manage, yes. But then it is not an unselfish thing. I like being close to you. I much prefer it to the other option."
Clara contentedly continues unbuttoning. Heck, she may as well be humming, as casual as she seems to be. "You manage them wonderfully." She abandons your coat once it's thoroughly unbuttoned and lifts a hand to your face. "Handling a woman isn't the easiest of tasks. You know how much hard work this is going to be, don't you?"
Riley brings his hand up to cover yours, bringing it to his lips to kiss it gently. "It is a task and an effort I look forward to however, very much so."
Clara regards you for a moment at this answer, a suspicious bit of moisture appearing in her eyes before she leans forward, pulling your hand down so as to replace it with her lips. After a moment, she notes, "I'll try not to be too terribly difficult."
Riley returns the kiss with exceeding care, but for all its care, it is exceedingly thorough. "I shall attempt to return the favor, although I have often been informed I am more trouble than I am worth." There's a grin, "By quite reliable sources."
"Trouble's my middle name," Clara replies lightly, tracing a finger from your hair to your neck. "Okay, it's Elise, but close enough." The grin softens significantly. "You'd be worth any price, though."
Riley's eyes half close in contentment, "Elise, trouble, same difference, eh? All means the same in the end." He hmphs, "I don't know about that most assuredly, but as long as you are happy."
"I'd be happier if your back were already healed so I could push you back on the couch and kiss you properly," Clara decides, as if quoting the weather. "But yes, love, I am. Not the type that would make me giddy, but just a core of warm contentedness. Which is as close as I can come to putting it in words," she adds ruefully, fingers moving on down towards your collarbone.
Riley seems to contemplate this a moment, and in response attempts to shift his arms around you more firmly and tug you along on top of him as he flops back on the couch. "Like that you mean?"
Clara makes one of those sound that would bring back a squeak of conversation from a dolphin, peering down at you with alarm. "Ri-ley, what are you -doing-? Doesn't this hurt?" But just in case, she's not moving, either.
Riley just grins in a vaguely devious fashion, "With you here? Nope, not at all."
Clara gives you a long, almost suspicious look, but goes ahead and attempts the kiss anyway, taking great care not to put too much pressure on your back while at the same time putting a full amount of effort into the kiss. "Are you -sure-?"
Riley is all innocence for the look of suspicion, although that is dropped as he melts into the kiss, returning effort for effort. "Very much so love, very much so indeed." He grins, "After a kiss like that, you think I would say -no-?"
Clara lifts a brow at you, but does unwind an arm from about you to toy with your hair. "I'd trust you to tell me if your back hurts too badly." She ventures another kiss, though, just a bit more effort and intensity this time. "Then again, I may just hook you back up to monitors," she adds in quiet amusement.
"I think right now," Riley says after an almost breathless pause, "The monitors would inform you that my heartrate is well on up there. And likely to continue climbing if you keep kissing me." There's an innocent pause, "Could we perhaps test the theory?"
Clara lets her gaze drift down to your chest in mock-dubiousness. "I don't know," she murmurs before her eyes dart up in an excessively playful glance. "Just for scientific purposes, of course?"
Riley nods in emphatic innocence, "Oh of course, of course, a scientific study. We'll need to verify our data of course..."
Clara still looks faintly dubious, but tries it anyway, purely in the name of science. Goodness, science is awfully emphatic and detailed. Taking her turn to catch her own breath, she makes an attempt at an academic expression. "I think this may require a more detailed study," she notes apologetically.
Riley has to take a moment to catch up, his eyes all but glazed over at the sheer scientific puzzle of it all of course. "You know, you know I think you're right. I'm sure though in time we'll master it."
Clara watches your eyes for a moment with a look of pure innocence, utterly given away by the light in her eyes. "Vive le experimentation," she murmurs, carelessly mixing languages before attempting to test far more hypotheses than would be printable. And all without sneezing or coughing!
Riley is a firm believer in science it seems, as things fade neatly to black. It's good to be an engineer.