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Corian is curled up on the couch as you come into the room. (You're coming into
the room. Really.) She's got herself all kinds of set up for working, as if
she's been at it for a while. Her bear is cuddled very neatly against her
side, her computer is in her lap, and she's got a headset on her head. From
the occasional bobbing movement, though, she's listening to music, rather
than doing some bizarre translation. At least she's not playing a shoot-em-up
game.
Tarrant is indeed coming into the room. He has a bag. The bag is made of paper.
The bag smells -good-. Well, if you like french fries the bag smells good. It
is exuding lots of salty potato-y aromage. He cheerfully pads over, all but
bouncing in apparent glee. He offers a wave, since your ears are covered,
rather than an aural greeting.
Corian looks over at the french fry smell, pushing back the headset. From them can be heard the music, briefly, before she turns it down from its too-loud volume--some song about stars and eyeballs. "Good evening, cha'trez," she says, with a very bright smile. "You look like you've had a good day." And you brought food, and maybe she'll get food if she's cute. It could work.
Tarrant is apparently more than willing to share food. He's partial to Corian The Cute. He offers the bag like a cat with a mouse, smugly proud. "I have french fries. Not just -any- french fries, the finest french fries in the world. They're -real-. With -real- potatoes." He's so proud. "I brought you some." He pads over, "What're you listening to, oh loveliest star?"
Corian looks all kinds of pleased by this sharing thing, and filches a few
fries. She tastes one, and her smile is, yes, even more pleased. Gesturing
towards the headphones, she says, "Some very odd music that Josif said I
needed to hear. It's amusing, at least. Ooh, and these fries are -very- good,
cha'trez. Where did you get them?"
Tarrant settles down on the couch near you, attempting to pat the bear absently
before stealing a fry as well. "This -great- little burger place near the
depot where the department keeps all the equipment. -Terribly- convenient."
He adds after a fry, "If Josif likes said music, I dare say it must be
amusing indeed."
"I dare say you would like this particular song," Corian says, expression
amused as she steals another fry. She turns it up enough so that you can hear
some lyrics, and they're scary. It's bouncy country, "Her teeth were like the
stars above because they come out every night. Her hair, so fair, she laid it
on the chair because I seen it laying there. I cocked an eye at her, she
cocked an eye at me, and we just set there cock-eyed as could be." Corian
looks quite amused as she turns down the music. "We can play it later, if you
would like. And it is nice of the depeartment to have their depot near to a
restaurant with such good food."
Tarrant's eyes widen at the song, and he's clearly delighted at the song.
"That's so -cheerful-." Of course he likes country. Oh dear. There's no hope.
He snags anoher fry and nods to the last, "I was supposed to pick up a folder
on the next planet we're due on, but I swear, they must've gotten it mixed
up."
Corian glances over at this, perhaps a little apprehensive. "Another cold planet?" she inquires. "I really do not want to have to go downstairs and get angry, cha'trez; I really -hope- that it is not another cold planet."
Tarrant shakes his head at that, rummaging for a thick pamphlet from his jacket
pocket and offering it over. "Nope, it's not cold. But...it's not a file.
It's an ad. And it looks like -fun-." It's for the world of the roller
coasters, and is shiny and glossy and pretty. "I'm guessing there'll be more
later."
Corian takes the add, and... ooh, it's too bad she's not a ferret. Then she could poing. "Oh, I really -hope- that this is not a mistake," she says brightly, moving her disgruntled computer onto the table so she can get a better look at the ad. Oh, and she swipes a kiss, then, too. "That would make work ever so much more fun, being there." She smiles suddenly. "We could have a chase through a funhouse, if they have them--it could be a bad vid plot!"
Tarrant perks up even more at the kiss. He's partial to those. He shifts an arm
up, in an attempt to tuck it around you. "Ooh, would we have a bad disco
soundtrack? And would we be meddling kids?" Okay, it's bad this idea pleases
him so greatly. "I almost wonder if the assignment's an apology for that last
one."
Corian considers for a moment. "We could manage a bad disco sountrack, I should think," she says, snuggling close. "If nothing else, we could have an eclectic soundtrack, with the music that Josif gave me. Though I do think that at least one of us is rather old to be a meddling kid." And she's probably talking about herself. Resting her head lightly against your shoulder, she muses, "If it is an apology, I most certainly accept."
"Yeah, I'm sorry love, I think you are." Tarrant's expression is -so- innocent.
He's going to get so poked. He sighs softly at the snuggling however. This is
still very much a man in love. "It certainly is a nice one, pending what
exactly's wrong with said world."
Corian does not poke. Her means of retribution are much more evil. With grave
deliberation, she sets aside the brochure and slips her hands under the cow
vest. Nice so far. Right? Wrong. See, under the cow vest is where one has
better access to various ticklish spots. Corian's figured out at least some
of these, and does her best to exploit as many as she possibly can. See? She
can be a kid, too!
Tarrant yelps in startlement at the be-tickling. "No! Help! Help! I'm being
opressed!" Snickering loudly he tries desperately to escape your fingers,
twitching and squirming. "I'm gonna tell!"
"Tell?" Corian inquires, tickling mercifully. "And who are you going to tell,
cha'trez? I would really like to hear the answer to that question." And then
she stops tickling quite suddenly, looking as unruffled as if she has never
started, except for that gleam of mirth in her gray eyes. "I think you should
tell Honalee. She would be pleased."
"Hona..." Tarrant trails off as the tickling ceases, and his idea's cut short. He offers you a suspicious look from beneath his bangs. The hair's fallen into his eyes and it really detracts from any possible realism to his suspicion. "No Bre'r rabbit, I will not toss you in the Briar patch."
Corian can't resist the hair. She lifts a hand to brush it out of your eyes, stealing a kiss. "Cha'trez, I am afraid that Bre'r rabbit references go beyond me. I am glad you would not toss me in the Briar patch?"
Ooh, he got a kiss! Tarrant likes this. Taking a moment he ascertains the event that garnerd him said kiss and he shakes his head to make his hair fall down again, and looks hopeful. He grins brightly, "It's an old story, maybe I can find you a copy of it. I think you'd like the dialect it's in."
Corian can't help but laugh at the transparent request, and repeats first the
hair-pushing gesture and then the kiss. "You really do not have to get your
hair in your eyes for me to kiss you, cha'trez," she chides gently, amused.
"And I would love to see the story, of course. A new dialect would be
fascinating."
"Yes, but see, it was -fun-," Tarrant attempts to explain. Okay, so he's weird.
He's probably one of those people who doesn't want to be offered popcorn in a
theater, he likes snitching when you're not looking. He adds to the rest,
"I'll get Mom to send along my copy of all of them. It's beat up, but it
should provide a linguistic challenge, that's for sure." He adds gleefully,
"And it has -neat- pictures."
Corian looks really quite pleased with this. "A linguistic challenge -and- pictures. I do not know that it gets better than that. If your mother can locate your copy, that would be wonderful, cha'trez, but I could do some hunting of my own if that turns out not to be feasible." And, just to prove that the hair thing isn't necessary, she steals another kiss.
Tarrant beams at the kiss, returning it with care and a great deal of fondness.
"I will check. I'm certain it's still in my box, which they have. It's
probably publicy available though. But I'm partial to real honest to goodness
books sometimes, and this is one of those cases."
See, this returning kisses thing is pretty good, too, and Corian looks rather blissfully content for a moment. "So is that what happens when I tickle you?" she inquires, with convincing innocence. "And, yes, I prefer books if I can get them, but so many times they are just impractical."
Tarrant makes a soft erking sound at that first question, "No, no, see kissing doesn't require tickling at all." He's a terribly ticklish person, and it's his job to avoid being tickled. "They're a trick to transport, that's for sure. That's why this one's been left with my parents."
Corian makes a show of considering for a moment, then nods. "I suppose I don't
have to tickle you," she agrees, snuggling close once more. "Though it really
was fun to watch you squirm like that, I must say," she amends, with a
sidelong look and a quick, amused smile. "And it was an excellent way to
prove that I am not as ancient as I seem, yes?"
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
There's another of those soft little pleased sighs. Tarrant -really- likes
snuggling. Having you close apparently is better than stuffed animals or
french fries even. "Okay, so you can be a meddling kid too," he agrees as if
being coerced. "But making me squirm is not fun, really, it isn't...no
-really-..."
Corian says cheerfully, "No, cha'trez, it really -is- fun. I could show you?"
She doesn't move to do so, though, instead biting back a yawn. "It will be
interesting to see just what we will do on this wonderful world of many
rollercoasters," she says, in an abrupt segue. "Was there any word on when we
will know more?"
Tarrant catches the yawn, one hand reaching to brush gently at your hair. "They didn't say I'm afraid, no. Perhaps we should seek sleep however? It's somewhat late, and you look tired. Whatever it is is going to wait anyhow."
Corian offers a vaguely sheepish smile. "Tickling is tired work, after all," she says. She gets up with a hint of reluctance, even though, hey, the bed is right there and more snuggling is very likely to ensue. "It was an early morning as well, and that was rather involved." She gestures at the sulking computer, apparently meaning the work contained therein.
Tarrant slips to his feet after you, stifling a brief yawn of his own. They're
catching. "Well then we'll hie off to sleep, and fix all the ills of
tiredness."
Corian, as she was conveniently already clad in bed-appropriate clothing, slips
under the covers and curls up on one side, eyes not quite closing but getting
close to that. "Sleep," she murmurs, "Sounds like an excellent idea,
cha'trez."
Tarrant pauses to change into something at least vaguelt bed-appropriate, and
crawls in afterwards after waving the lights off. "Sleep well," he murmurs
quietly, snuggling in close.
Corian cuddles close with a contented little sigh, murmuring something in Kashidian. Yes, she's all but asleep, and it only takes a moment or two for that 'all but' to disappear, letting her zip right off to the Land of Nod.
Tarrant is awake a while longer, revelling in the cuddled position, but he too
drifts off to la-la land, content.