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Thank goodness for blankets that blot out morning light. At least it's keeping someone from panicking at being many, many hours late for work, in her mind. Aren't you glad she doesn't snore? No moose herds.
Riley continues to snooze as well, still half wrapped around you, heedless of the late hour. Nobody's commed him to remind him of it either. Moose herds are scary.
Clara hasn't been commed either, probably due to Kramer threatening bodily harm (in that squeaky tenor of his) to anyone who tried. Still...one arm manages to wind its way out of the covers. "..." Well, at least she tried.
Riley would fear the squeaky voiced man personally, but then he knows the power of Kramer, even if he doesn't want to nap with him. He stirs as your arm escapes, dragging his eyes rather reluctantly open before wincing at the light. "Aww," he mutters softly, "Somebody turn off the sun."
Clara pushes to her elbow, just barely opening her eyes enough to squint accusingly at the window before flopping over and burying her face in the pillow and making very unhappy noises before she gasps and squirms her arm out to peer at the time. "I'm late!"
"Me too," Riley murmurs, although he seems somewhat disinclined to move just yet. "Was supposed to be in four hours ago."
Clara considers panicking further, then gives up and snuggles back under the covers to curl up beside you. "Me too. Think someone turned our alarms off. May need to hunt down Kramer n'be evil."
Riley snuggles in close again, murmuring his quiet agreement. "Or Anya. Or both. Nobody commed. Anya always comms if I'm late. To make sure I didn't fall in a well."
Clara doesn't bother stifling a snicker, hauling the comforter up with one hand rather over her head. No more sunlight, that way. "Did we fall in a well? Nice well. Didn't know wells were this comfortable." She stretches lightly, covering a yawn, then settles back in. "Sleep well?"
"Must have," Riley agrees, resorting to his former state of un-movingness. "Slept okay, yeah. You were here."
Clara murmurs something vaguely affirmative at that, venturing a hug before untangling from the blankets and climbing out of bed, yawning again. "Need anything? Tea, food?" she asks, padding over to the window to peer out cautiously while stretching again. "Been asleep for -years-, it feels like."
Riley half-groans at the mention of tea or food, so that's probably a no. He remains beneath the blankets, not even shifting appreciably as you leave. "That's good though. You were so tired."
Clara retrieves her medical bag from the closet and returns somewhat blearily, rummaging through it for her scanner. "Poor love," she murmurs, snapping it on and running it over the Riley-shaped lump under the covers. "Still feel bad?"
"Not too terrible," Riley protests quietly, although he does not attempt to escape, or even budge. "Probably just need to wake up some more."
Clara hmpfs softly, tugging the blanket back enough to cheerfully expose you to the morning sunlight from the chest up as she pulls on her stethoscope and warms the end disc. "How 'bout probably need to stay in bed?"
Riley winces rather decidedly away from the sunlight. "Maybe that too. At least until I wake up. I'm not yet very awake I don't think. And if this -is- awake, I'm doing it wrong."
"I could toss a bucket of cold water on you?" Clara offers amiably, slipping the stethoscope under your shirt to listen for a moment. "I have a pretty good idea where my helmet is in the closet. That holds cold water really nicely."
Riley can't restrain a shiver at the suggestion, although he does note quietly, "That would probably wake me up certainly. Anya would likely approve."
Clara leans down to brush a kiss at your forehead while pulling the blanket back up before stuffing her stethoscope back in the bag. "Probably. That would get the bed all cold and wet, though. Blech." Such technical terms.
"Maybe a cold shower, same effect, no soaking the bed." Riley murmurs quietly, half shifting onto an elbow in an attempt to make a head start on coherency. With the other hand he rubs at his eyes.
"Maybe a hot shower, and back into bed with you," Clara counters, fussing with a hypo. "Does your chest hurt?"
"Yeah, some," Riley clambers to sit upright, then shifting his legs over the side of the bed. "I think Anya'd hit me if I went back to bed, but she didn't comm. Weird."
Clara sneaks the hypo in to hiss briefly, then stuffs it into the containment unit in the bag, smothering another yawn. "Want me to call in and find out what happened?"
"Nah," Riley replies quietly, ruffling a hand through his curls. "You should sleep."
"I slept," Clara protests, poking you in the arm lightly. "You're the one with a cold." Sigh. Ruffled curls. To avoid assisting in the ruffling, she tangles her fingers in the hem of her t-shirt.
"But you were all behind on sleep," Riley protests in return, climbing to his feet and rubbing at his eyes. "Being caught up on sleep is good."
Clara rises as well to return her bag to the closet, rolling her eyes. "And we slept what...eleven hours." She turns about to lean against the doorframe, eyes following you. "I'll go back to bed if you do," she offers matter of factly.
Oh, see now here's a bit of a dilemma. Riley is however good at deals lately, "Can I take a shower first?"
Clara can't help but laugh at that, pushing back a mass of curls from her face and coming over to steal a hug before heading over to the kitchen to put on water to boil. "Shoo. Go find hot water. I'll likely jump in when you're done."
Riley returns the hug with care, chuckling softly. "Hot water's good. A shower would correct all number of ills I'd think." He rummages in the closet for jeans and flannel before disappearing into the bathroom.
Clara must be feeling all sorts of better, as she actually hums something monotonous while making herself a cup of tea. Bolero. Aren't you glad you're taking a shower?
Riley is probably indeed glad he has escaped such a fate. Brief sounds of water running ensue, and he emerges shortly thereafter in clean clothes with curls still somewhat damp. "The shower's pudding free."
Clara leans back against the counter to watch you appreciatively for a moment, then grins. "This is a goodness, I suppose. I could pass on butterscotch, certainly. Chocolate might be...never mind," she decides, and stifles further reaction with a sip of tea. "Feel better, though?"
"Yeah, some. Hot water may not be the cure for all my ills, but it's a damned good start." Riley pads over to sit on the bed's edge. "Certainly knocks out the bulk of ache and painage. Very nice."
"That hypo I gave you should loosen up the congestion too," Clara offers, setting her cup aside and heading to snag clothing from the closet as well. She pauses upon re-emerging with a handful of denim and sweaterage, tilting her head. "Are you all right, love?"
"Yeah," Riley replies, shifting down onto the bed to sprawl on his chest, chin resting on folded arms. "Aside from being a little foggy still. Why do you ask?"
Clara shakes her head briefly with a half-smile. "No reason. Just being a pest," she explains affably before heading over to close herself up in the bathroom. It isn't long before the sound of running water can be heard again.
Riley tugs at the blankets, curling down into the recesses of the bed, and pulling the comforter up over his head to block out the sun.
Clara is in there a bit longer than you were, but that's required. She's female. She finally comes out, raking one hand through towel-dried hair, and pauses to smile fondly at the shape under the blankets before moving to close the blinds against the light. Coming to sit on the edge of the bed, she notes softly, "It's dark again. You can open your eyes."
Riley emerges from the nest of blanketage a bit, reaching up a hand to rest at your knee. "Thanks love. I should've done that. I wasn't thinking."
Clara covers your hand with hers lightly, a faint smile in place. "I'll forgive you this time. My poor love," she murmurs, rubbing the side of your hand with her thumb. "I wish you felt better."
"I'm fine, really. Nothing so terrible as all that." Riley protests quietly, although his eyes sink slowly shut.
Clara reaches out to smooth your hair back, quelling a faint sigh. "Rest, darling," she murmurs almost inaudibly before starting to pull away again and rise.
Riley seems to have no difficulty about that injunction, and in fact seems even to have forgotten that you said you would sleep as well, as he drifts off without so much as a protest.
Clara had a problem you didn't however, seeing as she's not picked up random colds, and is -hungry-. She moves to peer into the refrigerator for a moment, lips twitching before she sighs and recloses it again. She pads over to peer through the blinds carefully. Maybe she can rapel down and get a gyros.
Riley seems unlikely to notice such an activity, as he is well and truly out cold.
Clara gives up trying to figure out how to rapel down to the food, and quietly lets herself out the door to go in search of it in ways that don't require rope.
[down to the dining hall]
Corian arrives from the Central Atrium.
Clara is seated at a fairly small table off to one side, making fairly decent inroads on lunch, and looking as though she actually slept. *gasp* She finishes a bite of sandwich quickly and sends an affable wave over at the entering linguist.
Corian comes in rather briskly, but, of course, gracefully. She's incapable of moving in any other manner, after all. She selects food fairly quickly--juice and a salad, nothing too bizarre--and turns in search of a table. Spotting Clara's wave, she smiles, and heads in that direction. "Good afternoon," she says pleasantly. "May I join you?"
Clara waves at the other seat at the table with a smile, then spears a piece of asparagus with her fork. "Please do, yes. How are you today?"
Corian seats herself lightly, and takes up her own fork, carefully picking the tomatoes from the salad--to eat them first, apparently, rather than to put them aside. "I am well, if somewhat busy. But I thought that taking the time to eat would be worth the delay in the completion of my work." With a smile, she adds, "You look better, as if you have rested somewhat."
Clara pokes at the remains of her pasta, exhaling a sigh of vast relief. "It's amazing what nearly twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep and a hot shower will do. Hopefully your brother is still out cold. He really needs it." She looks up from twirling the fettuccini about the fork. "Is work clamoring today, then?"
Corian offers an understanding smile at the first few statements, then nods. "It is, yes, to some extent. I am trying to finish that which I have neglected somewhat, between Tarrant's injury and these meetings of late. But I hope that it will not take too much more to finish."
Clara grimaces sympathetically around a few more bites of pasta, nodding. "I can understand that. Having done with it will be a relief though. Thankfully Tarrant is better now," she adds with relief.
Corian finishes off the tomatoes and starts a less compulsive manner of eating, smile warming briefly as she nods. "He is, yes. He and Gardner are working on the treehouse today, actually, which should make for an adventure."
Clara chuckles and shakes her head, reaching for the can of soda at one side. "A man with a mission. And a good mission at that. Is Gardner an associate of his, then?"
Corian inclines her head. "He is that, yes--he is gifted at building, which should make the treehouse-construction go somewhat better. And he has young children of his own, now," she adds, tone managing to be both pleased and surprised at that. She impales a poor, unassuming carrot round, considering it before she munches.
Clara hesitates in winding a bit of asparagus up with pasta, quite obviously nonplussed at that. Lowering her voice, she asks quietly, "This...is surprising. I'd have not thought children were conducive. Ah well. To each his own," she concludes philosophically.
Corian observes lightly, "Gardner is at a desk job, now--it is better for his family for it to be so. And the organization takes all kinds."
Clara nods around the bite affably, peering towards the door almost absently before half-smiling wryly. "Being behind a desk isn't so bad," she decides. "I miss the field at times, but not too terribly." She glances upwards in the direction of the third floor. "It helps if you have a reason to stay in place."
Corian nods to your comments, tucking away the salad and then turning to the juice. "Of course," she murmurs, with a smile. "That is generally helpful, yes." Oh, no. She's going to smile. Parents, hide your children's teeth!
Clara quells the urge to smirk and takes refuge in finishing off her pasta before leaning back in her seat and toying with her soda can. "You look like you feel a bit better as well, despite having work to catch up on," she observes.
Corian nods once more, smile escaping once more. But she figuratively lassoes it and reins it in once more, back to suitable politeness. "Sleep is helpful, as you said, and good company."
Clara takes a rapid sip of her soda to hide an even brighter smile before she notes rather reasonably, "Actually I said sleep and a hot shower, but yes, company is nice indeed."
Corian deposits her fork in on her salad plate. "It is indeed," she murmurs, expression thoughtful. "Ah, but I should probably get back to my work. The translation for the Quendari should be finished tonight, if nothing else."
Clara inclines her head affably before draining the last of her soda. "And I'd planned on invading Mr. Johensen again before heading home. Riley's a cold, and thought I'd get him something to cheer him up."
Corian tsks softly as she gets to her feet and takes up her dishes. "Poor Riley. I am not sure--do you have any of the tea, from home? I have plenty, so you are welcome to some, of course. It is warm, at least."
Clara rises to her feet to take up her own tray, nodding wistfully as she moves to dispose of it. "We do, actually, but he's at the stage where he'd rather not
ingest anything just now. He'd rather sleep. I can't say as I blame him."
Corian winces at that. "Oh, that cannot be pleasant," she murmurs. "Sleep is probably the best thing, then, and it's good that he's taking care of himself--and that you are taking care of him."
Clara smiles faintly, hands slipping into her pockets as she heads for the door. "Oh, I don't know about that. He does a pretty good job of taking care of himself, poor dear. Take care of yourself, Corian. Don't work too hard, hmm?"
Corian nods as she moves to dispose of her own dishes. "And you as well, Clara. Do let me know if there is anything I can do to help, with Riley."
Clara nods affably, smile warming. "I will, Corian. Thank you. Give my regards to Tarrant."
Corian inclines her head as she moves to exit as well. "I will certainly do so, of course."
[Some time later, back in Riley and Clara's quarters]
Clara comes in with a paper sack, brows scooting up in surprise to see you awake. She leaves the sack on the table to come sit on the edge of the bed and feel your forehead gently. "Hey there, you. I thought you were sleeping."
"I was mostly," Riley replies quietly, his voice raspy. "Just kind of zoning out and listening to people out the window and on the radio."
Clara turns her hand to run through your hair gently, half smiling. "Busy day down in Security, then? I'm afraid I haven't stopped on the second floor at all. I did stop by Johensen's again, though..."
"Not really," Riley replies with a sheepish smile. "I just turned on the general channel to listen to folks chattering. It was a pleasant distraction." He perks up a bit at that, brows lifting, "The bakery?"
"Yes, the bakery," Clara replies fondly, tracking a finger down your forehead to tap you on the nose. "Which means more of those cupcakes with pudding in them. Chocolate, of course. I thought if anything would tempt you into eating, they would. Your sister sends her regards, by the way."
Riley is somewhat tempted it seems, although he looks a bit pained as well, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think I can manage chocolate at the moment." His eyes cross lightly, tracking the finger. "Cori?" Um, as if Evvy'd be sending messages? "How is she?"
Clara returns to smoothing your hair back, ruffling various curls into disarray. "She's fine. Trying to catch up on work now that Mr. Czolgosz is back on his feet again." He's not here. She can call him that. (Hello, irony!) "We had lunch together."
Riley shifts a hand up to your leg, resting it lightly there, in no hurry to move with you ruffling his hair. "On his feet? Catch up on work? Lunch together is good."
Clara is likely in near heaven, having you captive and being able to play with your hair. Purr. "Mmm. He had some medical difficulties, but is fine now. He really, really is a nice man, love. I'm glad he and your sister are friends. See, I'd make a pass at him, but he's just not tall enough," she teases, winking at you over a grin.
Riley chuckles softly, too out of it to think to press further. "To short is he? Yeah, that's a problem, then he can't catch the ball. No possible passes." Okay, so it's not a great joke, he's trying.
Clara rolls her eyes and drops her hand just long enough to poke you in the ribs before returning it to your hair. "He's taller than Corian is, silly. Just not quite the towering giant either you or Niko is. Did Niles comm while I was out, by any chance?"
Riley oofs softly at the poke, grinning absently. At the question he shakes his head, "If he did, I didn't notice it. But I was pretty out of it for a while. You might want to check for a message."
Clara snickers and twines what of your curls about her fingers, shaking her head. "Later. I'm busy ogling at you right now. Unless you'd rather not be ogled at? I can try to set the kitchen on fire again..." she teases.
"Ogling's entirely acceptable," Riley murmurs with a half-snicker. "It feels wonderful to have you here. Although if you'd like food, I can always cook too if you like."
"Or you can always just keep your tail end right in this bed, sir," Clara counterdicts with mock firmness, then leans forward to brush a kiss at your forehead. "When you feel like eating again, I do have the ingredients to make something I can do without burning anything down."
"I have to eat eventually I guess, but just as yet it doesn't sound entirely thrilling." Riley sighs, a soft pleased sound, at the kiss. "I feel better though. I think kicking back in bed helped a lot."
Clara trails her fingers down the side of your face gently, sighing in a frighteningly contented fashion. "I won't ask you to eat until you feel up to it, but do you think you can keep some water down? I'd rather not have to IV you for dehydration."
Riley offers a rather wry smile, "I'd rather you not have to as well. I'm less than fond of IVs." He shifts, moving to sit upright. "Water I think I could handle. My stomach isn't as upset as it was. Just not quite up to cupcakes."
Clara wrinkles her nose in a grin and leans forward to steal another kiss before rising and heading towards the kitchen. "Water, or do you think you could handle some juice now?" she calls back.
Riley acks softly as you escape, "I could've gotten it..." He protests softly. "Juice'd be manageable probably."
Clara hums cheerfully to herself, completely ignoring the protest as she goes about getting a glass of juice. Bolero, and this time you're not lucky enough to be under running water. She returns to sit beside you on the bed and offer said glass. "You were saying?"
Riley accepts the glass, fearing the Bolero. "Thank you love, I appreciate it. But my legs aren't broken, honest."
Clara peers down at your legs with interest, then nods back up at you matter of factly. "It looks like you're right. How about that. What's your point?" she asks, attempting to scoot about to sit behind you.
Riley shifts over to allow you to do so, taking a ginger sip from the glass. "That I coulda' gotten juice. You didn't have to do it for me."
Clara lifts her hands to your shoulders, rubbing gently as she agrees, "I know. Except that I wanted to do it. See, I rather enjoy taking care of you when you don't feel good. I'd rather you felt better, but it's nice to have a patient I get to share space with. Of course, I love you, so that may have something to do with it."
Riley chuckles softly, shaking his head slightly. "Crazy lady, although I appreciate it." He sips again from the glass, even more gingerly than the first time. "Thank you for taking care of me. I often wonder how I survived before I met you."
"Very easily," Clara murmurs softly, half smiling as she continues to hunt down tension in your shoulders. "You're more than able to take care of yourself, love. You're a grown man." She pauses to work at a knot. "It's just nice that we can care for each other, sometimes, too."
Riley relaxes still further as the knot is worked out, settling the glass down, steadying it with his hand, pausing a moment. "That feels wonderful, love. Surviving I could do, but I never really lived until I met you."
"I wish I were older so I could have found you sooner," Clara offers quietly, pausing in her work to slip her arms forward in a hug before resuming. "But then, I'll probably be an old, gray nag in ten years, so maybe it's better this way." Yes, she's joking.
Riley shifts an arm back to return the hug, then making an attempt to drink the juice again. "Love, in ten years you'll be my age. I'm not old, honest. Gray hair aside." He looks rather sheepish at that last. "Jay was picking on me about that."
Clara rolls her eyes and stops rubbing long enough to lean around you and spread one of her own curls out to reveal a pair of -very- well hidden gray strands. "It's not just age, darling. Jay can go soak his snoot," she adds loftily, returning to the backrub.
Is it sad that the fact you're going gray as well cheers Riley up? He chuckles quietly, "Sounds fair enough to me. The brat'll be gray soon enough."
"Oh yeah? Does it run in the family then?" Clara makes a faintly miffed sound, running one hand up through the back of your hair just because it's there and tempting. "Mother's the one I'm envious of. She doesn't even dye her hair that black color."
"Nah, I'll just make sure he goes gray, the twit. I honestly don't know if it's a family thing or not. And if it is, well, he's not a blood relation." Riley muses quietly, settling the glass altogether aside, half-empty. "Yeah, but your mother's not the CMO of a lunatic asylum. Besides, I like your hair better. It's beautiful."
This earns you the lightest of kisses at the back of your neck along with a hug before Clara resumes working at a knot by your scapula. She doesn't seem likely to complain about the glass still being half-full, rather glad that any of it is gone. "I always wanted to look like mother growing up," she explains, amused. "Here she was, tiny, dark hair, fair skin. Of course I end up looking like my anonymous father, tall and redheaded."
"I think you're perfect," Riley murmurs quietly by reply, relaxing still further, having to prop his elbows on his knees to stay sitting up properly. "Gloriously perfect, and I thought that even -before- I fell head over heels in love."
Clara laughs easily and leans back against the wall to provide a backrest. "You really can lean against me, love. I won't go squish," she promises, resting her cheek on your hair and arms over your shoulders. "And you did not. I made you mad too often. Of course, I still do that," she muses, grinning.
Riley shifts back to lean against you, careful of course, but enjoying the opportunity to be close, even if he is a bit on the shabby side. "But you made me mad because you're so wonderful. I wouldn't've been half so frustrated otherwise. And I get mad at you sometimes, yeah, but I still love you."
"I guess that's the key," Clara murmurs, eyes drifting to the window as she absently toys with one of your curls, obviously not caring if you're shabby or in full dress whites. "We get mad, blow up, hurt, but I never wonder if I'll love you tomorrow, or if you'll love me. I just know that's the way it will be."
Riley relaxes fully against you, his eyes closing. "Exactly...And so things are wonderful. One wonderfully stable thing I can always rely on, and lean against, figuratively or not."
Clara chuckles, eyes closing as well against the setting sun trying its best to infiltrate the blinds. It would make a lousy spy. There's just not much infiltration going on. "Mmm. More wonderfuller when you can eat chocolate," she offers, relaxing considerably. "Riley?"
"Well yeah, chocolate's good." Riley agrees quietly, words a soft rumble. He pauses, "Yes love?"
Clara shifts to rest her forehead on your hair, sounding vaguely amused. "Can we lay down? Either I just got terribly lazy, or my body's taking these relaxation clue to shut down and try to sleep again."
Riley shifts back off you, sinking down onto the bed. "Sounds good to me, love. Sleep's good. You need sleep."
Clara takes a moment to kick off her ropers to the ground, muttering something about needing to polish them tonight before she cuddles into you. "Mmm. Much happier. M'sorry, darling. Someone pulled the plug all of a sudden."
"No need to apologize, sleep's good. I'm tired too." Riley cuddles in close in return. "Sleep well m'love."
"G'night, Greg," Clara manages to murmur before the rest of the energy drains away from wherever she was unplugged. Oh, great. Arthur's going to have a -fit- about having to fix this problem.
Riley isn't long behind in falling into a nap either, murmuring a quiet, if raspy, endearment.