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[In the toy store.]
Oh no, Tarrant doesn't like toy stores at -all-. It's probably a mystery how he's managed to rope you into coming here, as no sane human being would wander into a toy store with the man after having done it before. His hands are tucked in his pockets, forcing him to behave, "Ooooh...."
Corian casts a brief glance towards the disk guns, but does not take one--well, not yet. Instead, she moves to a display of musical instruments, expression sweetly, innocently thoughtful, which is, yes, a major red flag. "My cousin's youngest daughter would probably -love- these," she muses.
Tarrant trails around a display, all casual innocence, which is another of those red flags. Dang, looks like a real banner day around here. "And your cousin'd absolutely -despise- them. Which, honest to say, if your cousins are like mine, means you oughta' do it." He's positively cheerful this evening, not that that's in the slightest unusual. Hrrm, what's that faint whirring?
Corian does not even move at the whirring. "My cousins are not -that- bad, but Marisa is a very musical child," she says, still all innocence. "Such talents should be encouraged, do you not agree?" She reaches for a kazoo, expression decidedly pleased. "This would be perfect, and, perhaps the cymbals."
Ka-ching! Yes, someone's found a foam disk gun. But from the ack and fumbling
noises, it's not Tarrant. In fact Tarrant comes diving back around the
display, fumbling for one of the other guns to return fire towards his hidden
assailant. Quite casually however he continues the discussion, "And
-drums-...do they have drums?"
Corian quite gracefully folds herself onto a bench near the display of musical
instruments, nicely putting herself out of the line of fire. "Drums would
most certainly be good," she says. "I doubt I could ship a full set to
Marisa, but I could send something smaller." She watches the shootout with
amused interest, then shakes her head fractionally.
Tarrant fires off another few rounds before being distracted by a pile of stuffed toys. This of course gets him thwacked a few times, but he doesn't seem to care. "Oooh, or one of -these-..." He holds up a stuffed dragon, ridiculously cute with impossibly floppy wings." Okay, so maybe he's bad person to take toy shopping. "She'd like one, really, I swear..."
Corian's sigh is exaggerated. Really, does she have to do -everything-? Shaking
her head once more, she moves to snag a disc gun of her own, sending off a
few distractionary rounds towards the shopkeepers. "Oh, now -that- is
adorable, cha'trez. Does it make any sounds?"
Tarrant shakes the toy dragon, ducking a foam disc that whizzes past him. "Um,
it rustles sort of, does that count?" Oh he sounds so hopeful. "It's -cute-.
It doesn't -have- to make sounds. It exudes cuteness rays." Oooh! Yes, he
gets distracted again, "Ooh, or one of -these-..." This time he's found some
sort of disturbing remote control dog.
Corian gets distracted as well, to stare in horror at the dog, though she ducks rather automatically as a disc comes her way. Of course, the next one hits her. "Cha'trez... does that toy give the illusion that it is -urinating-? I really do not know that I want to have cousin Analis -that- upset with me."
Tarrant fires off a few more foam discs, just to add to the fray, although he's
got the dragon stuffed under one arm and is peering at the dog's box. "You're
supposed to put water in it I think. How -surreal-." Yes, even Tarrant can
find a toy too scary for him. He appears highly amused however and is
snickering. "Well, they've had dolls that did that for years, I guess it was
only time to tell..."
Corian reaches to touch the dog's lifted leg. It's the same horrified
fascination that causes people to look at traffic accidents. "I think," she
says, "That I would prefer to send the dragon to Marisa--that and perhaps a
musical instrument."
Tarrant brightens cheerfully and turns to the dragon, "Didja' hear that Spot? You get to go home!" Yes, he's named the poor put upon dragon. And named it Spot. It doesn't look thrilled. He does however. Or he will until the poor thing's stuffed into a box at least. "See, being noisy isn't required." He regards the dog with an amused shudder, "Maybe we could send one to John."
"Perhaps," Corian suggests, utterly without malice, "We could rewire the toy so that it looks like it is having a fit. Then it would be that much more appropriate a gift for our dear friend John." She is, yes, now giving the dog a closer look, before turning to select a small assortment of inexpensive musical instruments--a kazoo, a nose flute, a slide whistle, and a small drum.
Tarrant doesn't even bother to stifle a laugh, but instead suggests to a giggling and twitching red lump. "Why bother rewirin', my star? That one already seems to be having one." He scritches the dragon's head as he continues to explore. "Although it's not as talented as you were."
Okay, -that- gets you a look that is somewhat less than amused. "As much as I appreciate compliments from you, cha'trez," Corian says, "there are some things that I really would rather not be told I do well." She does peer thoughtfully at the twitching lump. "Oh, now -that- would certainly be good for John." And the note? You wait here, I'll go for help.
Tarrant offers you a terribly innocent look. And isn't he so innocent? Just a slightly scruffy guy with slightly scruffy hair and a cute stuffed dragon. His eyes are all wide and trusting, "But -love-, aren't I -s'posed- to praise your talents? I mean, as talented as you are at all kinds of things, it'd be -awfully- hard not to." Oh he is going to get kicked.
Corian is kind, and doesn't try kicking. Maybe she's going to wait til she's
wearing pointy-toed shoes. Instead, she just gives you another look, though
one that turns amused. "Cha'trez, may I have Spot, so that I may purchase him
and his fellow gifts? And should we purchase the bizarre gentleman in the red
clothing for John, now?"
You want to take his toy away -already-? Oh talk about pathetic looks... But -somehow-, Tarrant manages to offer over the poor put upon dragon. "It's up to you love. I'm all for tormenting John, but usually you're a little less torment inclined." This last is said with the hint of a teasing wink.
"In this case," Corian says, "I think I can bring myself to make an exception."
She pauses a beat, then inquires, "Is there anything that you would like for
yourself, cha'trez, while we are purchasing toys?"
"I think," Tarrant muses with a quiet snicker as he pads up to stand next to
you. "It would be better to ask if there was anything here I -didn't- want.
I'm afraid I'm a danger in toy stores." He reaches over to give Spot a
scritching. "But there's that whole 'travelling light' thing and all, so
somehow I manage to behave."
Corian rummages in the bin of animals for a second Spot. Maybe she wants it? Or
maybe she just knows that you're not about to admit to it. In any event, she
offers over her card to the happy fun clerk. "Well, there is always storage,"
she says amiably. "That is where the majority of my books are, after all. Of
course, stuffed animals get so lonely in storage." And she sounds utterly
serious about that.
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
"You can't put stuffed animals in -storage-," Tarrant agrees, sounding
genuinely horrified at the mere -thought-. "The poor little things'd be all
-sad- and unhappy. They need -friends-." He trails after you, puppylike. You,
after all, have the toys. "And besides, the last time I kept toys in storage,
somebody blew them up." This last is said with a wry snicker. "And despite
the fact that that 'Massive Explosion' coaster thing was awfully fun, they
normally aren't."
Corian fishes in the bag once the clerk hands it and her card to her, and
offers one of the Spots. "He needs a friend, since his twin is going to live
with Marisa." She starts for the exit, then, with a nod and a gesture that's
not -quite- a shudder. "As much as I love that coaster, I do wish that they
had named it something else."
Okay, grown men shouldn't be this happy about stuffed toys. But Grier got his moose, and the platypus has poisonous feet! Tarrant accepts the proffered toy, folding into his arms in such a way that it looks like he's holding a cat or some such. His entire expression is one of barely concealed delight. It's a toy! And no small children are going to come cute it away from him. "Oooh..." he murmurs quietly. "Thank you, my star." He doesn't seem to care that the clerks are snickering. "It was an awfully neat coaster though."
Corian smiles warmly as she starts for the exit, clearly just as delighted by the response. The clerks get an amused look as well, and a headshake. "You are most welcome, cha'trez. And, yes, it was an -extremely- neat coaster. I also liked the indoor one, with the blacklight--it was a very neat effect."
[Travelspam home deleted.]
"Was that the one you had to drag me on bodily?" Tarrant muses as he trails along behind, obviously too thrilled with the universe. "Because I was too chicken to go zooming at 70 miles'an hour into a big dark box?" He shrugs off his jacket, although somehow he manages to hang onto the Spot, and moves to hang it up. He's well trained, really. Proof he's fictional.
Corian pulls off her jacket as well, and, yes, hangs it up, too, then pads over to the couch after stashing the bag of loot for the child under her desk. "That is the one," she agrees. "But it -was- fun. Not being able to see where we were going was part of the fun. And you were glad you rode it, were you not?" Maybe she's feeling stuffed-animal-deprived, as she snags her bear.
"I was -very- glad I'd ridden it, yes," Tarrant agrees with an amused snicker as he goes to drop lightly down onto the couch, Spot-in-arms. His. He's not letting it go. "But that was still early on, before I was entirely convinced I wasn't going to die. I swear, wonderful things, but man...if they want me to get on them, they should have entirely fewer screaming people on them. I swear, that first one, I thought they had to be -killing- those poor people."
Aha! Corian slides closer, tucking the bear next to her and cuddling close to you. Much better than a stuffed animal. "But you saw the truth. They were enjoying themselves, despite the screaming. It was -wonderful-." Her smile is brief, but rather distant, perhaps as she remembers just how much fun she had.
Tarrant shifts an arm around you, snuggling in close, but the other one's
around the Spot. "I know, but an hour or so in line while they screamed was
not terribly good for my resolve." He winks in a bemused fashion. "See, and
now you know, you married a scaredy-cat."
"We just need to go again," Corian murmurs. "Perhaps during the off-season. It would be a bit chilly, but the lines would be much shorter. And you are -hardly- a scaredy-cat, cha'trez. It is just a different form of bravery."
Tarrant brushes a gentle kiss onto your hair, smiling in a bemused fashion.
"Ahhh, so John's right, I'm -different-..." He stifles a quiet, almost sleepy
snicker. "He was suggesting he try and get assigned here. Too bad they'd
likely object to that."
Corian moves to rest her head on your shoulder, though not before the sharp
upwards-twitching of her brows. "John, assigned here? Well, that would
certainly be... interesting. Would we work as a trio, then, if he did manage
to be assigned here?"
Tarrant shakes his head slightly, not wishing to shrug lest he disturb you. And
from his soft sigh he apparently likes your head on his shoulder very much.
He has a Corian and a Spot, life's good. "I don't know. I doubt they'd let
him though, they're real antsy about any of the old crew together. Only
reason they let us, is because we're married. And I like John, but not like
-that-."
Corian really can't help but laugh at that, a quiet, low-pitched sound. "Nor do I--actually being his wife, instead of having him name me such and then cause me to 'have a fit', would really not be appealing." She does nod, though. "Perhaps it is for the best that we not group together again," she says, with a quiet sigh. "Though I did receive a letter from Emma the other day. She offers belated congratulations on our marriage," she reports, sounding amused, "And she says that we must name our firstborn after her."
"But I don't -want- to name the poor child 'Nitwit'." Tarrant's tone is affably
teasing. "I mean, that can't be kind, can it?" He's probably going to get
poked, but he's warm and comfortable and willing to risk it. "Besides, you're
my star, and not his, and I'll poke him in the eyes if he tries to contest
it."
Corian does not poke, but she does prod lightly at a ticklish spot. "Emma is
not--well, much of a nitwit. She is a sweet woman. Though 'Nitwit' -would-
work for a boy or a girl." Her tone is quite amused, but then she awws very
quietly at that last. "Well, even if he did try to contest that, it will do
him no good. As you say, I am yours." She lifts her head, then, offering her
a sweet, somewhat drowsy smile.
Tarrant twitches from the poke with a snicker, although he doesn't go far, as the hour is encroaching on late. Instead he attempts to lean down and steal a very gentle kiss. "It'd work for getting them kicked by all the other kids, yep," he replies with a grin. "It's unto late, m'love."
Corian nods, with a rather regretful sigh, though there's a smile for the kiss. "And the morning and work come far too early for my liking." She gets carefully to her feet, then, offering a hand. "But we should probably go to bed, yes?" And then they can not bonk, since they are who they are.
Tarrant accepts the hand, and climbs to his feet a bit sheepishly, as he's
still refusing to relinquish his new toy. "Morning's rosy fingers drag us out
of bed and set us on our feet before even our feet would appreciate it, yes.
But better soon to bed, so we can be ready for it."
Corian interlaces her fingers with yours as she starts for the bedroom-area.
"My feet would tend to agree with that," she murmurs, with a smile. "But
today was a good day, time well spent."
Tarrant pads along afterwards, gently squeezing your hand in a gesture reassuring himself of your presence. He has to do that from time to time, just to be sure. "It was a wonderful day. But then with you, they all are. Some however are more wonderful than others, and this was one of those."
Corian releases your hand after a moment, smile warming, but it's only so that
she can find bedtime-appropriate clothing. Somehow, she's found pajamas that
are a cheerful, rather wispy blue, with cows jumping over moons scattered all
over them. Maybe some bizarre family member sent them. Or maybe her player is
just lusting after the jammies that she didn't get. "We will certainly have
more days that are more wonderful, though."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Tarrant rummages for his own sleeping gear, which is sadly nowhere as suave.
But at least it's flannel. He likes heat. Especially after the evil trip to
the snow world. He's not letting the heat escape again. He clambers into the
bed, surreptitiously bringing the Spot with him. Oh he's entirely innocent.
He, a grown man, would -never- bring a stuffed toy to bed. "We always seem to
manage to do so. Just when I think it's not possible, it happens." He stifles
a bemused yawn. "And hey, we'll get a new assignement soon. It's always neat
to first get them."
Corian chuckles very quietly as she follows you into the bed. "The language," she decides, "Cannot possibly be more difficult than Alvandi, if the new assignment requires that I learn a new one. Alvandi, though, really is wonderful." She notes the presence of Spot--out, out, damned spot?--but doesn't comment on it, instead just smiling and snuggling close.
Tarrant curls in close, wrapping himself around you, and well, Spot. Oh see now
this is one content and flanel covered lunatic. Toy, wife, warmth...beat that
with a stick you cannot. "And it had the Scruffies," he murmurs softly. "But
the cold was bad."
Corian nods a firm agreement to that. "But we will not have to go to another world that is so cold," she says quietly. "Those downstairs know that I will have words with them if they even suggest it again." Hah, she scared them. Of course, they still might try it, because, hey, torturing characters is fun.
Tarrant seems to have faith in the powers of Corian versus the People
Downstairs, as he smiles in a bemused fashion as his eyes begin sinking shut.
He nuzzles in a bit closer to you and Spot. "My Corian, keeps the powers that
be in line."
Corian kisses your cheek lightly, then, with a contented little sigh, closes
her eyes. "Well, I try to do so, at least," she murmurs. "After all, another
trip somewhere that could would -really- be bad. But for now we should sleep,
yes? Goodnight, cha'trez. Dream sweetly."
"Couldn't dream anything sweeter than waking," Tarrant murmurs drowsily before
he does indeed fall deeply into the land of being unawake. Yes, he's still
holding onto the danged toy.
Corian doesn't seem to mind the presence of the toy. After all, she sleeps with
stuffed animals occasionally, and quite regularly with an ancient child, so,
hey, what's a dragon now and then? She heads off to sleep as well after a
moment or three, a quiet, contented smile flickering across her lips. (See,
usually smiles are -loud-.) She looks, frighteningly, even more inocent this
way.