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Corian, at some point, has woken up and, uh, found clothing. She's also located
her computer and taken it to the desk, miracle of miracles. And thus does the
quiet sound of typing sound from her neck of the woods. Clickclickclick.
Pause. Clickclickclickclickclick. (Click, by the way, is an odd word to type
many times in succession.)
Tarrant has apparently woken before, found clothing, and gone back to sleep. Well, he's listening to CLara's instructions at least. He stirs however, at last, and shifts sheepishly upright, one hand moving to ruffle his hair into abeyance. "Dang," he murmurs softly to himself, perhaps realizing the hour. He glances in your direction, but does not seek to interrupt.
Corian is involved in whatever it is, but not so much so that the movement and
such doesn't catch her attention. She finishes off a sentence, then keys the
save command before turning and offering a smile that is perhaps a little
tired, but also sweet and rather more relaxed than, understandably, she's
been lately. "Good... well, morning, cha'trez."
Tarrant climbs to his feet with more effort than grace, although his stretch holds at least some hint of the latter. He then pads over in your direction, bare feet soundless on the floor. "Good morning, my star. Sorry to disturb, you're aw'fly industrious for this time of morning and all."
Corian gets lightly to her feet, with more grace than effort, and takes a step to meet you, and to claim a hug. The text on her screen is Kashidian, and thus likely not going to be too helpful, but it's there, at least. "I was just writing down a few things," she replies. "I woke, and found that I could not sleep again. I hope that I did not wake you, though; it is quite late."
Tarrant returns the hug, heedless of his new-gained bruises, simply revelling
in the closeness and the comfort of your presence. "Nah, you didn't wake me
any, I just woke up I guess. Considering the odd hours the past couple days,
it's not much surprise the sleeping schedule thing's all kinds of crazy. Not
to mention the whateveramacallit. I'm sorry though, I didn't mean'ta
interrupt."
Corian shakes her head, keeping her arms lightly around you. "You did not
interrupt, cha'trez. I was nearly finished--and besides, I would rather be
with you than typing on that machine." That machine, of course, beeps a
protest, just because it can.
Tarrant leans just a bit to very maturely stick his tongue out at the computer
in return for the beep. Yes, he's a bit smug. "I love listening to you type,
when you're working on translations and such," he muses absently. "It's such
a comfortingly reassuring sound."
"I could record the sound for you if you like," Corian offers, perhaps a touch whimsically. "Then you could have the comfortingly reassuring sound, and I could be with you, rather than making the sound." The computer doesn't beep again, but its screen flickers vaguely green. Yes, it's jealous.
Tarrant grins brightly at that, shaking his head in a brief negative. "Being
with you's even better. I guess it's just one of those reminders that you're
here, you see. And you do that even better than the sound does. He steps back
a bit to half-lean half-sit against something convenient. "Although I think
your computer likes it the other way round."
Corian says ow? No, no, she just follows along, carefully half-leaning against
you as you lean against something convenient. You're convenient, after all.
"My computer's preferences are quite a lot less important to me than yours
are." She steals a quick kiss, then, with a pleased little smile. "It was
wonderful to be working, and to know that all I had to do was turn my head to
see you."
It's the leaning tower of Czolgoszes! "It is an amazing thing to be able to
work together, and to do such of it as we do from here." Tarrant replies, one
hand reaching up to gently brush back your hair. "We are terribly wonderfully
lucky, even if we are weird."
Corian is perhaps not yet -quite- removed enough from the former unpleasantness
to consider herself lucky to have this job, and so her nod is maybe just a
little vague. "There is nothing wrong with weirdness, though," she offers.
"Why, some of my best friends are weird. Speaking of weird friends," she
adds, "I got a letter from Emma. She couldn't say where she was, but she
seems to be enjoying herself quite a lot, wherever it is. But, then, she
usually does."
"That is one of Emma's gifts," Tarrant replies with a bemused murmur. "Did John
reply to that letter I sent yet? He's being a bit close-mouthed." He pauses
and then adds a bit sheepishly, "Could we perhaps sit down, or some such?"
He's definately embarrassed to be asking this.
Corian nods, a rather concerned expression flickering across her face. "Of
course, cha'trez. Maybe to the bed, this time, so we do not end up sleeping
on the couch again? As wonderful as it is to be close to you, a bit more room
might be nice, so you do not end up with more bruises from my elbows." She
departs from your side, but only to shut off the protesting material. "If
John has replied," she adds, "Then it has not reached here yet that I have
seen."
Tarrant agreeably heads towards the bed, sinking onto it with a barely perceptible sigh of relief. "The bed it is," he replies with a nod. "Besides, I take up way too much of the couch, there's got to be hardly any room for you at all, my poor love." He flashes another grin your way, "As slow as I am to write, I ought not complain about John, I guess."
Corian, after a brief argument with the computer that ends in it being shut
down and also in Corian calling it something in Kashidian that Nice Ladies do
not all their tempermental over-personalitied computers. Then, with a quiet
laugh, she comes to the bed as well. "I do not need much room, though, and I
wished to be with you. And John is probably busy," she adds, as she curls up
with you, "Making some other poor woman feign fits, or perhaps driving her to
actual fits."
Tarrant snuggles in quite close, like a child with a beloved stuffed toy. "Besides," he replies softly. "The bed is warmer, and warmer's always good." He hmphs in bemusement, "Driving people to distraction he was good enough at, I wouldn't be surprised by fits. But you were -really- good at that."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
"We are not doing that, Tarrant." Corian sounds amused, but absolutely firm in
this decision. "I do not care how good you seem to think I was at this. It
was not a pleasant experience. And he always picked the worst places to do
that. I still cannot -quite- get over that time in the zoo." She shakes her
head, then. "But I think it might be perhaps a bit late to discuss John's
foibles. I jsut hope he is doing well."
"Oooh, the zoo had the great aligator exhibit." It's good to see Tarrant has
his priorities straight. "With the neat signs, and overlooks, and it was
-cool-." He does think to agree however, "No making people have fits in
public, check."
Corian can't quite help but laugh at these priorities, though it's a quiet sound. "Thank you for agreeing to that, cha'trez. I do appreciate it, very much. Though, at least, we get something of a respite from offworld assignments, yes? So there would not be much opportunity for public fits, unless we wished to disturb Clara." Oh, Clara, yeah. Corian's mental note-taking, to go see Clara tomorrow, is nearly a visible thing.
"Yeah, until they figure out how to fix the problem with...ooooh, pretty
colors...my tendency to randomly blip around mentally." Tarrant's words are
quiet, and somewhat less than awake, but he sounds cheerful as he adds,
"Disturbing Clara is so -easy- though."
Corian inquires carefully, "Pretty colors, cha'trez? And, yes, it is, poor
Clara. But she has been rather kind to us of late, so perhaps we can avoid
disturbing her for a little while?" Though, hey, Corian might manage it
tomorrow.
"Hmm, colors?" Tarrant's fingers half intertwine into your shirt, as if trying to make sure he's got a hold of you. "Okay, if you think that's best. No horrifying poor Clara." There's a pause. "Not even just a little?"
Corian shakes her head. "Never mind," she murmurs. "It is not important." Dang good thing Corian put that shirt on, isn't it? She cuddles a bit closer, then, considering the question. "A little," she allows. "But perhaps we can wait a day or two? I think she might appreciate that."
Talk about a seriously good thing, yeah, although the look on her face if he'd
tried it without a shirt...well it'd be worth a cookie probably. "Okay,
waiting is good. Maybe you can let me know when it's time to horrify her
again."
Corian nods amiably to that. "I will put it in an appointment book, perhaps. That would be easier to remember." Yeah, that's an entry: Novaya Zemlya 12, noon, horrify Clara. She pauses a moment, then inquires, "Do you have any particular way to horrify her in mind, love, or just general horror?"
"Maybe with a cow," Okay, either Tarrant's lost it again, or he's mostly
asleep, or maybe both. "Moo..." He snuggles in a bit closer. "Nice warm bed.
Sleeping, maybe, yeah. Moo."
Thank you, Jeff. Corian pauses a moment, a bit disturbed by this particular
form of horrification, and then cuddles close to claim a kiss. "It sounds
like sleep would be a good idea, cha'trez," she murmurs. "Sleep well, dream
sweetly."
And in fact, Tarrant murmurs before dropping off entirely, "I'm a cow,
moooooo...." Thud. He's out like a light. Now too bad he couldn't have done
that on the trip back from Coaster World, hmmm?
Well, yes, but it would have deprived Corian as Tarrant-who-isn't-Houdini. And,
gee, her life would have been lacking something.