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Tarrant enters from the Elevator Lounge.
Tarrant has arrived.
Corian is curled up on the couch with her computer and a fuzzy blanket. She's
intent on her computer. This is nothing new. Zapping noises are coming from
her computer. This is new. Miracle of miracles, Corian is playing a
shoot-em-up video game.
Tarrant meanders in, positively -coated- in colored chalk. He looks like he's
been dropped in a chalk dust bin. He also looks terribly pleased with this
state. "Ooooh," he murmurs, "Having fun?" He trapises over, as if about to
sink onto the couch as well. He's evil, isn't he?
It actually takes a moment or four before Corian looks up from her game. Maybe
she's trying to find the pause button? When she does, her expression is
-altogether- sheepish. After all, she doesn't usually do this. And then she
sees you, and just stares for a moment, definitely putting up a warding hand.
"Cha'trez, as lovely as the colors are, the couch has a no-chalk clause in
its contract."
Tarrant apparently didn't mean to sit on the couch at all, although he does a
passable job of faking a mid sit-course change to stand again. "Awwww,
doesn't it like chalk though? I swear, nobody seems to. Gardener had such a
-fit-, it was only a friendly tackle..." He sighs in a long-suffering
fashion. "Color is meant to be -shared-..."
Corian sets aside her computer, regarding you with decided amusement. "You -tackled- poor Gardener like this? Oh, dear, the poor man. I daresay his children will enjoy the look, though." There's a pause, and then she inquires, "Cha'trez, how -did- you get this... colorful?"
Tarrant leans down in a devious attempt to steal a kiss before padding back
across the room to shed the vest and tuck something from one of its pockets
into another pocket. Yes, he's being sneaky, fear. He's terribly cheerful as
he replies however, "I ran into your friend Josif, he's such an entertaining
person. He'd had his cousin out of school to engage in pavement art. By the
time I'd gotten there the cousin had been removed once again to more
scholarly environs, and Josif was still being artistic, and invited me to
play as well."
Corian is however not going to object to a kiss, despite the dusty state, and
thus probably ends up with a smudge of chalk dust on her face. "You spent
time with Josif?" she inquires, looking really quite pleased. "He said he
would stop trying to hit you, so that probably helped. And you two -colored-
together." She seems really altogether thrilled. "Ahh, and he stole Efrim.
That would explain Delegate Er'dan's foul mood this afternoon." And, yes, she
notices the sneakiness, but doesn't comment on it, instead looking just a bit
sneakily smug, herself.
Tarrant ducks into the bathroom with an armful of clean clothes, and so his reply is at times echoing and then muffled. "Indeed I did, and it was a great deal of fun. Not that he wasn't entertaining when he was trying to kill me, but he's a lot more fun when no punches are being thrown. And the coloring was -wonderful-...The pavement looks so -neat- now!" He mmhmms amiably, "Wish I'd had cousins like that, I'll tell you that for nothing."
Corian gets to her feet and moves to stand near the bathroom door, the better
to have her reply heard. "Yes, but you are less likely to injure
him--accidentally, of course--when he is not trying to kill you," she points
out pragmatically. "And I am very glad you enjoyed yourself. Josif is a good
relative to have--and a good friend to have, for that matter, though he never
managed to get -me- quite so filthy."
There's some brief running of water at the sink, and then Tarrant meanders out
in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. His concession to the informality of
being at home is that the shirt is untucked. Oh, the horror! He's mostly
clean, although there's still a smudge of bright green in his hair. Great.
Josif must be a bad influence. "A good relative?" He queries as he grins at
you and then looks a bit sheepish, "Well, technically I got -myself- filthy,
he just provided the chalk."
"Well," Corian says, as she takes advantage of the be-greened hair to play with
said hair, "You said you would have liked to have a cousin like him. Josif is
hardly related to me," she adds, with a quiet laugh. "Just a friend. And he
-encouraged- you to get filthy," she adds, amused. "Not that you need much
encouragement to color, of course."
Tarrant ahhs as a clue kicks in, and he grins at the hair playing with. He
peers up through his bangs to spot the green and chuckles sheepishly. "Even
in my hair, yeesh. Okay, I'll agree with him encouraging it. We also
discussed the possibility of paint bombing the Complex." He sounds so -proud-
of that.
Corian pauses in the hair-playing-with-ing to peer mildly at you. She doesn't
look startled. She's used to bizarre suggestions by now. "Are you going to do
it?" she queries. It's not judgemental, just curious. Perhaps she's wondering
if she's going to need to get out of town when this occurs. "It would
certainly be colorful."
"It depends on if it's possible to do it without being caught." Tarrant sounds altogether too cheerful. "It would be apt revenge for all the evil they've dropped on us. I mean, that much snow and ice needs -some- return in evil."
Corian pads back over to the couch, though, to her credit, she doesn't take up her game once more. "Well, yes," she admits. "But I really -would- rather that you not get into any more trouble than is absolutely necessary for you to have fun." There's a brief pause, then. "Speaking of the ice," she says, "Would you mind too terribly if I gave you your birthday present a bit early?" Okay, that's probably not the most reassuring introduction.
Tarrant goes to rummage briefly in his be-chalked clothes, tugging out a small
box and looking innocent. "Only if I get to go ahead and give you this."
There's a pause though, as he realizes fear should be inherant, and he pads
towards the couch, "Uhhh, ice?"
Corian shakes her head quickly. "Cold is not at all involved in the gift,
cha'trez. I promise." She peers curiously at the box, and inquires, "What is
that?"
Tarrant slides down onto the chair, tugging his bad leg beneath the good one, and offering the smallish box, barely larger than the palm of his hand. "Your anniversary gift," he explains simply. It's, as been said, a smaller box, made of some kind of unadorned wood in a burgundyish hue.
Corian pauses a beat. "Well, if you are giving me my anniversary gift, then I
will just have to give you yours, as well," she decides. She takes the box
with a murmured thankyou, but puts it on the table and gets to her feet,
stealing a quick kiss and going into one of the closets. She returns--yes,
coming out of the closet, just in time for the anniversary!--with two boxes.
One is large, and has "Happy birthday" paper on it--but tacky, brightly
colored happy birthday paper, with lots of cute furry animals on it. Yes,
Corian knows you. The other is wrapped more simply. These are put on the
table as well.
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Oh dear, cute furry animals. Yes, she knows him far too well. Tarrant seems to find this paper -vastly- entertaining however and snickers quietly, shaking his head. "Oh dear..." He seems amused, and grins in a bemused fashion. "I still can't believe it's been two years. But then they say, time flies when you're having fun. And it's as if this has been but a blink, and yet forever."
"I cannot even imagine now that there was ever a time when we were not together," Corian says simply, though with a pleased little smile for the reaction to the paper. That box is nudged a bit closer. "You have two," she decides, "So you must go first. It is a rule, I believe."
Tarrant's brows drop in a brief furrow, as if he's contemplating this. "I
musta' missed that rule. It was probably with those about which fork to use
when doing battle with pork tenderloin." He's agreeable however, and picks up
the package. Okay, proof he loves and trusts you, he doesn't pause to listen
to it to see if it ticks before disrupting the lives of the cute animals by
shredding them.
Well, fortunately, the box's contents doesn't tick. Inside the larger box is a stuffed animal. It is, in fact, a fairly good-sized stuffed animal, large enough that a small child could curl up with it and that an older child--say, maybe 79 years old--could hug it quite nicely. The actual animal seems to be some sort of beast of burden, with thick, wooly fur and a kind brown eye. It is, in fact, a Scruffy-like animal. Matter of fact, it has a leather harness that has the word 'Scruffy' stenciled onto it. Awww. It's remarkably lifelike, too, if a lot smaller than the actual Scruffy.
Oh dear, see now we have a terribly pleased Tarrant, "Oh -wow-!" See how pleased he is? "Scruffy!" And in fact he does hug the stuffed animal, all but burying his face in its fur a moment. This is a man that needs serious psychological help. Releasing the poor creature a notch he beams at you, "Thank you love, he's wonderful. And less likely to try and eat my gloves than the original. Not to mention maintenance won't have a fit."
Corian laughs very quietly, slipping an arm around you. "I thought you might
like him," she understates. "And he is a much better pet for us than the
original is, for a number of reasons." Yes, she's -definitely- thrilled by
the response to her toy. And now you'll be even less likely to steal her
teddy bear. Talk about ulterior motives.
Tarrant doesn't seem to notice ulterior motives, he's far too pre-occupied with
petting Scruffy, who is already beginning to appear long-suffering. And he
never -stole- the teddy bear. He was just, uh, keeping it warm for you,
that's right. He grins cheerfully and offers the small wooden box, "Your turn
then, love."
Corian nods amiably to that, and takes the box. She doesn't -mind- getting presents, after all. After running a thumb lightly over the grain of the box's wood, she opens it, assuming it's not some sort of puzzlebox.
And in fact it's not a puzzlebox, just simply a small jewlery box made out of
some oddly smooth wood. The inside of the box is lined with black velvet, and
resting neatly on it is a very simple silver chain. Hanging from the chain is
a ... well, remember those trees back on the planet where you met? The ones
with the star shaped leaves? Okay, -pretend- you remember even if you don't,
so I don't think I'm going insane... hanging from the chain is a very small
star shaped leaf that's been dipped in silver to match the chain. Tarrant
just looks sheepish.
Corian smiles briefly at the inside of the box, but her breath catches for a
moment as she sees the necklace. Very carefully, she reaches to touch the
leaf, barely touching it. "Cha'trez..." For a moment, she can't quite manage
speech, and then, when she does, it's Kashidian, which doesn't much help.
Finally, she manages Standard. "Thank you," she says. "It is... I had not
thought to see one of these again. It is precious." She does manage not to
sniffle, though her eyes are suspiciously moist. "Will you help me?" she
inquires. She's not good at putting on necklaces, after all, that evil
behind-the-neck thing.
Tarrant carefully takes up the necklace, fumbling briefly with the clasp before
shifting around behind you to attach, and not attach as I originally typed,
the the thin silver chain. "It only arrived this afternoon, I had feared it
wouldn't come in time." He looks a bit sheepish, "I know it is similar to
your other one, but it...well, made me think of you, and how stunned I was
that first day I met you."
Corian lifts a hand to touch the necklace, looking very pleased. "That was...
very eventful," she murmurs. "With the chaos... but it was worthwhile, in the
end." She looks as if she's going to say anything else, then instead reaches
for the smaller of the boxes, silently offering it.
"Terribly worthwhile," Tarrant agrees softly, reaching briefly to brush lightly
at your arm with his fingertips. He looks a bit bemused, but shifts back
again to accept the smaller box carefully. He doesn't even check if this one
ticks either before opening it.
And the box explodes! Aieeee, Scruffy bits everywhere! Actually, no. Inside the
smaller box is a small, short cylinder made of decidedly aged-looking brass.
It seems to hold some sort of flip-top container. Flipping the top--which
needs to be done with a hint of care, as the brass is not the only thing that
is aged--the glass beneath may be revealed. Under the glass is a small,
bobbing needle. Four small letters -- N, E, S, and W -- form a square under
the glass, and the needle wavers, always pointing north. Yes, it's a compass,
though it looks to be rather an old one. The inside of the top has been
carefully engraved. "To my love, who will always know the way to my heart.
Happy second anniversary."
Tarrant seems a bit puzzled by the object at first, well until he opens it and comprehension dawns. Scanning the words, well now it's his turn to look a touch sniffly. "Thank you love, it's wonderful." And it's a gadget. He likes gadgets and can't help but smile, "Hey, and this way I don't hafta' stop and ask for directions anymore." That last is said with a wink.
Corian laughs very quietly at that. "And -that-, of course, is the reason I
chose this particular gift," she swears. She leans close to steal a kiss,
then murmurs, "Happy birthday, cha'trez, and happy anniversary. Thank you for
another wonderful year."
Tarrant returns this kiss carefully, looking a bit bemused and perhaps
thunderstruck as well. "Two years," he reaches up a hand almost to your face
but not quite. "Thank -you-. You've made me happier than I knew it was
possible to be."
Corian's smile is brief, but brilliant for all that. "It is proof that we are meant to be together. You can even say the words that I am thinking." She nestles her cheek lightly against your hand, murmuring, "And think how much longer we have to be happy together." No, see, she looks pleased with this.
Tarrant brushes his thumb lightly against your cheek, grinning. "Mind reading
not normally being one of my talents, I think it can be taken as proof, yes
love." He looks rather bemusedly pleased himself, "Somehow this afternoon it
was ventured that perhaps chaos keeps one young. If so, I think we will have
forever together."
Corian offers a rather innocent look. "You ordinarily do not read minds?" she
queries. "And if chaos keeps one young, I think... yes, forever is a good
estimate." She pauses, then, and inquires, "Can you tell what I am thinking
now?" Of course, her brief glance to the bed probably gives her away, but
because her player was up at 6:30.
"I'm afraid not," Tarrant replies in a bemused fashion. "They must not have taught that when I was in school, it's prolly one of those new fangled courses." He catches the bedward glance and grins, "That it's late?"
"You see?" Corian inquires, with a smile. "We -are- intended to be together. I
was just thinking that we should probably get to bed." No, that wasn't quite
what you said, but, hey, it's pretty dang close. There's another nod, then.
"It is fairly new, yes," she says, sounding utterly serious. "It was offered
as an option through the linguistics department, but I never took that
option."
Tarrant slides to his feet and offers you a hand up. Scruffy is tucked under one arm, "Shall we to bed, then?" He stifles a soft chuckle, "Considering you're always in my thoughts, I suppose reading them's not needful anyhow."
Corian gets to her feet and takes your hand, with a warm smile, and a brief
look of amusement for Scruffy. "I should hope that you would cuddle with me,"
she teases gently, "This of all nights. But I suppose Scruffy can sleep with
us as well, if you like."
Tarrant offers Scruffy a look and carefully sets the poor creature on the couch
where it looks mournful. "He can, uh, stay here." Great, leaving Scruffy
behind, take two.
Corian chuckles very quietly, taking a moment to pet Scruffy. "If you -would-
like him to come with us," she says, sounding more sincere than teasing now,
"It is perfectly fine, cha'trez. Really."
Okay, he's scum, but Tarrant scoops up the stuffed toy, "He can sleep by our
feet and keep them warm," he asserts cheerfully. "And hence not interfere
with snuggling."
Corian, with a nod and an amiable smile, starts over to the bed, pausing only
to change into bed-appropriate clothing. "Well, when you consider how cold
feet can get, that is probably a torment to inflict upon poor Scruffy, but I
hope he will be glad just to be with us."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Tarrant pauses to change into bed appropriate clothing as well, although his is a pair of soft shorts and a surreal t-shirt advertising the university of Galifrey. He slides into the bed, tucking Scruffy down at the foot of it. "He'll be terribly pleased, I think. This way he doesn't get left behind."
Corian slips into bed as well, though Scruffy does get another pat. Curling
close, she murmurs, sounding just a bit tired already, "He gets to be with
us. I should have waited until tomorrow, I suppose, but it is going to be
hectic. I could wish that our employers hadn't decided to send me to a
seminar on our anniversary and your birthday, but it could be worse, I
suppose. At least it is here."
Tarrant snuggles in close, shifting his arms around you in a protective
fashion. "The timing's not wonderful, no, but we have each other and that's
all that counts."
Corian murmurs her agreement, cuddling close. "Perhaps I will be able to be
finished in time for dinner, though it may have to be a late dinner," she
adds, sounding, yes, more drowsy. See, the bed emits sleepy rays. "I do hope
you have a nice birthday, though."
Tarrant rubs gently at your back, apparently not quite as sleepy but terribly
content to hold onto you and be warm. "I cannot help but do so, married to
you. Happy anniversary dearheart."
Corian stifles a yawn, but to no avail. Sleep hits her over the head anyway.
There's a murmur that's a vague as it is quiet, and then she drops right off
to sleep, though she's still cuddled close. And she doesn't even kick Scruffy
off the bed during the night.
Tarrant stays curled in close, just being terribly pleased for a while before he too drifts off into sleep with a vague murmur in his native language, that were you awake, would sound suspiciously like some sort of thank you.