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Corian is, whenever you return, still on the couch. She's not sleeping, no. In fact, she looks as if she's been up for a while, as she's out of her terrorist clothing and into something a little more suited for seeing people who don't know what she does for a living. She's got her computer tucked on her lap, and she plugs rather busily away at whatever she's doing. Hearing the door, though, she looks up, her smile following a moment later. It's slow, you see. "Good afternoon, cha'trez. Is... all well?" Since, after all, 'are you going to prison?' is hardly a cheerful greeting for one's spouse.
Tarrant slips in the door, his cheer once again more or less back. He's dressed
as impeccably as he usually is, except for...well, it looks like he's been in
-some- kind of disagreeable situation. His jacket's torn, he's got several
just-darkening bruises, and he's in a general dissaray. "They're not sending
me off to jail, nope," he answers the question unasked. "I think they're
scared to." He seems so -amused- by that. "I uh, wouldn't comment on their
interior decorating though, if you visit anytime soon. They might not like
that."
Corian, in one smooth gesture, is off the couch and putting the computer on the
table. (Nothin' but net!) She moves to your side in a heartbeat, one hand
reaching towards one of the bruises, though not quite touching it. "Did they
-hit- you?" she inquires, her voice holding a decided edge. Yes, she only
yelled at them yesterday, but apparently she's -more- than willing to do so
again.
"Not as -such-..." Tarrant replies, ducking his head rather sheepishly. "Unless
you count the part where someone tackled me to keep me from dismembering
Hoschton." Hoschton being a serious 'Power That Doth Be'. "I was only going
to break him a -little-. Besides, it's not like he -needs- to have children.
And he -offended- me."
Corian tsks over the bruises, still clearly not even remotely thrilled, but her brows lift a bit at that particular name. "No, actually, I think it would be better if he did -not- reproduce, as that way we are more likely to avoid having more people like him." She heads back towards the couch, reaching for your hand to make sure you follow, then inquires, "Should I ask how he offended you, cha'trez, or would that be best left to my imagination?"
Tarrant is more than willing to follow, as he's still on the scruffy side from the day before. Taking on the entire of the local departmental staff didn't exactly un-scruff him. "Let's leave it to imagination for now perhaps," he suggests as he sinks down into a seat. "I'm afraid I'd get all upset again thinking about it too much, and I really don't much care for being angry. And really, I only broke the one chair, and that just to get Gardener's attention. Technically the other stuff was broken by other people." Fleeing, trying to stop him with it, etc. "And we got everything resolved like gentlemen once they decided to sit down and be rational."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian nods equably, certainly glad to have you here and not angry. She
rummages for a fuzzy blanket, as fuzzy blankets are always a good thing, and
curls up with you and it, re-claiming your hand. "All right, cha'trez. It
sounds as if you had something of an adventure, though." In the dictionary,
under 'understatement,' it says, "Corian Czolgosz is kind of okay at this."
She rubs lightly at the back of your hand with her thumb, adding, "It is good
that everything was resolved, though."
Tarrant is more than willing to curl up with both you and the fuzzy blanket, and shifts in close, wrapping the unclaimed arm around you in what's intended to be a comforting gesture. His Corian. He intends to protect her -- come hell, high water, or double agents. The fingers of the claimed hand intertwine through yours, entrusting himself as much with you as he attempts to protect. "They're all seeing a lot more sense, certainly, and if there's a few bruises and broken furniture items, well...all that's just an object reminder of how we all ought to be a lot more courteous."
"Have they... reconsidered their decision regarding those conditions, then?"
Corian inquires carefully. She in turn gives you a gentle squeeze, though she
really can't quite suppress her smile at that last bit. "I am sure that you
were most persuasive in your reminder, cha'trez. I do hope that the
straight-backed chair near the main entrance got broken. It is a very
uncomfortable chair."
"That's the one I broke," Tarrant explains in a bemused fashion, his words more
felt than heard at this proximity. "When they were refusing to pay attention
to me. Really, -they- broke the rest, not me. I mean if I got in the way, and
that's how things broke, that's hardly -my- fault. They threw them." He
mmhmms quietly however, sounding pleased. "We will both be working, but
neither of us in anything where I can wreak havoc, or you will be dealing
with things they have not trained you for. I get to compile data, and you get
to translate. Anything beyond that, it is entirely your choice to do, and
they will not press." There's a pause, "And in time they will decide if I am
to be kept, depending on whether or not the effect of the drug is permanent.
It is presumed that will not be so."
Corian murmurs a vague thankyou, apparently for your choice of chair-breakage.
At the work-related news, a subtle tension goes out of her body. "Thank you,
cha'trez, it is very much a relief to hear... if you are to be kept?" Yes, it
took a moment for that last bit to register. "They are even considering that
you may not be?"
"Well, if this is permanent, I may be asked to retire," Tarrant replies a bit sheepishly, silently berating himself for being a fool. "They're not all sure what it might do, with my odd biochemistry. But the general opinion seems t'be that it'll be wearing off in not too terribly long, at least any effects that might affect my working." He edges in still closer.
Corian just hugs you tightly for a moment, not saying anything. "I suppose," she says finally, "That all we can do is wait and see. I suppose I can understand their concerns." She's just still angry with them, that's all.
Tarrant leans down to try and steal a gentle kiss. "They're not going to toss
me out to pasture lightly, love," he replies in a murmur, trying to catch
your eyes with his own. "They need us both, very much so. They can't afford
the loss, to the point they've sent over to one of the hidden labs to have
them work on extrapolating out possible results, and even ways to clean it
out faster."
Corian lifts her gaze to yours, one hand lifting from the blankets--oh, miracle--to touch your cheek, though she's careful of the bruises. "Well, that will be helpful, at least," she says, with a small smile. "For once. It is good to see them doing something helpful for a change." She pauses a beat, then inquires, "Did you damage Gardener too badly, cha'trez?"
Tarrant brightens at the hand to his face, as if he's been given the neatest Christmas gift there ever was. He reaches up to catch at the hand, in an attempt to bring it where he can lightly kiss it. "Does scaring him within an inch of his life count?" He shakes his head slightly, "I -like- Gardener, I didn't want to hurt him. Besides, he didn't come after me with the folding chair like Stapleton did. He just looked exasperated."
Corian's smile warms to something more natural for her at the hand-kissing
gesture. "Scaring him does not count," she says, with a shake of her head.
She nods once, rather briskly, at the mention of Stapleton. Yes, she's taking
mental notes. "I am just glad that the situation has been resolved. That
is... very reassuring."
"I'm glad scaring him doesn't count, I had -fun- scaring people." Tarrant is altogether too thrilled with having gotten to be the big bad guy for once. "Even the -department- can see reason..." He murmurs as he kisses your hand again, and then after a pause, continues planting gentle kisses along that arm. He's got it held captive, he might as well be nice to it.
Corian laughs very quietly at your words, her expression fond. "I am glad you
enjoyed yourself, cha'trez. Though I hope you will forgive me if I hope that
the need for you to do this does not occur very often." Her arm seems pleased
enough by these kisses, as does she.
"I'd rather not ever have to do it again," Tarrant confesses a bit sheepishly
as he disentangles his other arm to reach up to trace an absent line along
your neck. "I'm not very good at being angry, it's not my talent." His brows
drop a moment as if he's trying to remember something, probably why it is he
shouldn't let his hands roam?
Corian says, with a look of rather rueful amusement, "It sounds as if you were quite gifted at being angry this morning, but, yes, I certainly understand that, cha'trez. It is not a comfortable feeling, being angry. It really is much more pleasant to be happy and content." She doesn't seem to object to this roaming tendency that your hands seem to have found, but, aside from a brief quirk of her brows, she doesn't comment to it.
"Happy is certainly more...happy..." Tarrant is looking more and more puzzled, and with an apologetic smile to the brow quirking, he brings his hand back down again. "And really, it was more putting on an act before Hoschton came in. I just wanted them to have a proper scare, and remember some things."
Corian inquires curiously, "Are you all right, cha'trez? And... well, I think
that them being afraid is a good thing, honestly. Maybe they'll think twice
before they make hasty decisions, then."
"Fine, fine," Tarrant is quick to assure, once again snuggling in close to you.
"And that was the idea at least, a reminder that just because some things
-seem- safe, they are not." And despite his confusion, he's being evil again,
snuggling in close and absently nuzzling your neck. Has he seen Undercover
Blues too many times?
Corian is most definitely puzzled by your behavior, though she doesn't go quite
so far as to say so. She's going to have a heck of a time explaining this to
Clara, though, should she desire to do that. (He kept touching me!) Instead,
she just says, with a hint of a smile, "That is truly a good lesson for them
to learn, yes--well, and for us to learn, as well, though I think that we
have managed that lesson well enough."
Mooom! Tarrant won't stay on his side of the couch! "I think yesterday was
indeed an object lesson in many things, not the least among them the danger
in innocuousness, yes." He's still nuzzling, adding in kisses, and generally
being altogether too affectionate.
Corian, after a few moments, leans down to kiss your cheek, though she sounds
decidedly puzzled as she inquires, "Cha'trez, are you -sure- that you are
feeling all right? You are acting... a little unlike yourself. Though I have
to say, I do prefer this to yesterday." After all, 'Tarrant, why are you
kissing me?' is much preferrable to 'Tarrant, put down the scalpel, and stop
making things go beep!'
Tarrant startles a bit, and reluctantly shifts back from the nuzzling, his ears bright red in embarrassment. "I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to...I mean, but..." He shakes his head in a quick negative, attempting to reorder scattered thoughts. "I just love being here with you."
"You do not have to apologize," Corian says quickly, with a brief shake of her
head. "It is just... well, I was rather surprised, as you are not usually
quite so... well, demonstrative. I am not objecting, I was just a but
surprised." Her smile is warm and fond, if still maybe a touch puzzled. "It
is fine, cha'trez. I love being with you as well."
Oh well, hey, if you're not objecting. Slowly, as if he were on the trail of
some terribly shy little animal, Tarrant edges back in closer, once again
generally being overly affectionate. Yup, he's drugged, but at least he's
being nice about it. And this has got to be easier to deal with than the
other form of lunacy.
Corian is, yes, much preferring this particular form of lunacy. She doesn't comment, though, but instead gets in the occasional kiss of her own. She's not even remotely -overly- affectionate, but neither is she leaving all of the affection-exchange to you. (Okay, it sounds like we need a counter for this at international airports. Hello, do you have any currency to exchange? How about affection? The exchange rate is very good for the French.)
Desmond Morris would -adore- such a counter, and he probably likes this portion
of the program an awful lot, and shows up with charts, graphs, and bizarre
overdub. But then he's English, he's weird.
And lo, Corian is still puzzled, but, no, she's not even remotely going to complain about this. Instead, she kisses your cheek, then, with a vaguely embarrassed laugh, tugs a bit of clothing from beneath herself. Don't know -how- that got there. "Thank you, cha'trez," she murmurs, with a warm smile.
Tarrant is puzzled too, but terribly content. Whatever weirdness was involved
has fled, and he's back to being a cheerfully snuggly but mostly innocent
idiot. He snuggles in close, lending warmth and general protection. "No,
thank you love... I uh, sorry...well, no I'm not, but I just don't know what
came over me, aside from your beauty of course."
Corian shakes her head, rummaging for that fuzzy blanket to add to the general warmth factor. "There is no need to apologize," she murmurs. "I am not even remotely sure what happened, but it was... well, it was good, most certainly. Much better," she adds, an amused twinkle in her eyes, "Than having you running after anything with bright lights and entertaining noises."
Tarrant sighs softly, apparently quite pleased at the inclusion of the furry
blanket into existance. Warmth is indeed very much his friend, and he relaxes
still further as it's added to the equation. He reddens in sheepish
embarrassment at the last, but even that cannot affect the general goodness
of warmth. "I am -very- sorry about that, I remember bits and pieces now,
and....and...I am -so- sorry, love."
Corian shakes her head, offering another light kiss to your cheek. "There is no
need for you to apologize, cha'trez. In retrospect, it is... entertaining."
Yeah, -now- she can laugh about it. "I am just glad that we were able to get
home safely, and that you are well, now."
Okay, warmth, and getting kissed, Tarrant can apparently handle the embarrassment, if this is in the cards. He offers you a fond smile, one hand reaching to brush back an errant lock of your hair. "Everything turned out, yes. We've got luck after all, and persistance. It's just kind of like a roller coaster, if we hang on, we'll be okay at the end."
Corian pauses just a moment at the mention of roller coasters, as she's got
rather odd associations with them just now, but then just cuddles close. "I
could do without those moments of terror, though," she murmurs, with a brief
smile. "I'm just -really- quite glad that those parts are over, and that
we're here and safe." She squeezes you for a moment, then adds, "Do you know
when the Department's labs will know more?"
"They said they'd let me know, or Clara one, depending on who was easier to get
ahold of," Tarrant replies, tightening his arms protectively around you.
"Hopefully it'll be relatively soon, in a couple of weeks or so, they're
saying." Long enough for it to be too late. Well, it probably already -is-
too late, but too late to have any warning. "And I'm glad it's over too,
love. I've never been so scared in my life as when I thought you were going
to be hurt."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. "A few weeks," she murmurs.
"That is not very long, certainly." She just clings to you for a moment, then
says quietly, "Those were some... very, very bad moments, yes. But thank you,
cha'trez. I would be dead right now, without a doubt, if you had not acted as
you did."
"I'm..." Tarrant sighs softly and tightens his arms around you, perhaps still a
bit frightened? Nah, not -Tarrant-... "I'm just sorry you had to witness what
you had to witness. I know you know what I am, but I had hoped never for you
to have to see it." This makes it sound like he's a werewolf or something. "I
woke up this morning, and...with remembering, I was afraid you would have
sensibly fled."
Corian shakes her head firmly at that. "Of -course- I would not have fled," she
says, in fact holding you all the more tightly. "Tarrant, cha'trez, you
-saved my life- with your actions. Leaving you would hardly be a way to repay
that. Besides, I love you. I will never love anybody else the way I love you.
Why would I want to be anywhere else but with you?"
While the words may not have banished Tarrant's fears, the tightening of your arms probably did. Certainly the remaining tension seems to go out of him. He's quiet a long moment, attempting to master himself and find the words he wants. "Love, I don't know why you'd want to be with me in the first place, but I'm hardly about to complain. No matter how chaotic life is, I do not think it is possible for me to be happier, I have you."
Corian just hugs you for a moment, burrowing her face against your chest. "I
want to be with you because you are you," she murmurs, voice perhaps a bit
muffled by the fact that, well, her face is against your chest. "You are the
other part of me, the part I did not know was missing until I found it. I
could not, ever, want anybody else."
Tarrant tugs the furry blanket up a bit, tucking it in close around you. Then
he rests the hand lightly on your back, attempting to rub in comfortingly.
"Then we are well suited for each other, as I simply could not picture life
without you in it. I can't figure out how I managed before I met you, it's as
if you've always been here."
Corian relaxes just a bit at the back-rubbing, a quiet sigh escaping her that
is half pleasure and half sheer relief and just being where she is, with you.
She turns her head, at least, curling an arm over your side. "Well," she
murmurs, with a smile, "You will not need to picture life without me in it. I
am not going anywhere."
Tarrant continues the comforting gesture, simply basking in the comfort of being with you a long moment. Life is good, even if it's surreal, apparently. And this one calm moment in a sea of less than calm moments is a pleasant one. "Thank you," he replies simply but with intensity. "I have always wanted to live happily ever after, I am amazed to find it's a real option." He pauses and notes, "If I turn into a frog though, call Clara."
Corian smiles in response to that first statement, kissing your cheek. At the last, however, she pauses a moment, and then, as if she can't help herself and yet is somehow surprised at herself for doing so, laughs. "A frog. Oh, yes, I would certainly call Clara. Though I am certain that you would make a very handsome frog, I still much prefer you as you are." She lifts her hand to touch your cheek, then, where she kissed, smile warming.
Tarrant returns the laugh with a chuckle and a bright grin, "I much prefer me
as I am too, have you any idea what flies taste like?" He pauses, "Well, I
mean, not that I -do-, but I'm willing to bet it is not a taste treat, no
matter how much happy protein they may have." He pauses, "Actually,
considering, Clara might not be willing to change me back. She has a twisted
sense of humor."
"I think it is the Qalivasi who eat a stew made of fly-like creatures on high social occasions," Corian observes thoughtfully. "Mercifully, I have never been to Qalivas, so I cannot say how it tastes." There's an amused shudder, and then she shakes her head. "No, I think Clara might. I would ask her to do so, that is certain, and ask again if she refused, and simply make such a nuisance of myself that she would acquiesce simply to keep me quiet."
"Can we add that to our list of places to avoid like the Andelusian Plague?" Tarrant queries, his drawl finding its way back to his words as well as an amused tone. "Ice worlds and bug eating worlds, all right out." He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "I'm just glad you don't lie in wait for me to fall asleep to gun me down with one of those soaking water guns. Not that you're not evil too, but in a way usually more of a problem to the bad guys."
Corian nods firmly at the talk of avoiding Qalivas. "That sounds like an excellent idea, cha'trez, avoiding Qalivas. It is not a particularly appealing planet, even aside from its cuisine." She pauses a beat at that last, clearly a little startled. "You usually sleep because you need it, Tarrant. I would hardly wake you while you are getting needed sleep."
And speaking of sleep, Tarrant blinks back against the evils of pending
drowsiness as his body yells, 'Hey, not that that wasn't nice, but I wanted a
-nap-...talk about mixed signals, yeesh.' "Clara does that, see..." He
replies in a quiet murmur. "Which explains why your brother's so jumpy if you
ask me."
Corian does know you well enough to recognize the signals of impending nappage, and, perhaps to facilitate this, lifts a hand to stroke your hair. "Riley also has a job that seems to require jumpiness," she murmurs. Oh, and being a spy doesn't do the same? "But you are looking tired, cha'trez. Perhaps you should try to get a bit of rest, hm? Today was a very full day, after all." And, yes, a hint of a smile crosses her face at that.
And as we're rapidly running out of time, Tarrant is quick to drop off, with little more than a murmur in Millian by way of agreement. "..so beautiful..." And then thunk, he's out for the count, simply warm, content, and asleep.
Corian brushes a gentle kiss against your cheek, and then curls up against you.
She doesn't sleep, not yet, but instead just closes her eyes and listens to
you breathe, silently savoring the nearness of your presence. And then,
eventually, she drifts off as well.