11/20/99 .

You say "Clara? I am sorry, I do not mean to bother you, but do you have a few moments? There is something that I think perhaps I should discuss with you." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Corian?" There's a quiet yawn, then the reply in a fairly cheerful voice, "Sure. I've all the time in the world. What can I do for yoU?" in Clara's voice.

You say "Oh, dear. I do hope I did not wake you." There's a pause, then. "I... could you possibly come up here? Ordinarily I would not ask, but this needs a bit of privacy, I think." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Ah, silly lady." Yes, Clara's in a good mood. "I was awake, I promise, and it wouldn't matter if I had been asleep. Of course I will. Give me a few moments to pull on shoes, and I'll be right there." in Clara's voice.

You say "Thank you, Clara. I do appreciate this, very much." into the communit.

Someone's knocking on the door. Maybe it's Clara. (If you like, you can 'reply <words>'.)

Corian calls, "Come in."

Clara enters from the Elevator Lounge.

Clara has arrived.

Corian is seated on the couch with a blanket. Tarrant is not seen, though, hey, maybe he's asleep. That would be feasible. Corian gets up from the couch, then, with a smile. "Thank you for coming. Can I get you something to drink? Some tea, perhaps?" She's got a mug of the stuff already.

Clara lets herself in quietly, stifling another yawn that's more from it being a lazy Saturday morning than from real sleepiness, and turns to make her way towards the couch with a smile. "Oh, tea? I think I might have to be eternally grateful, actually. That sounds wonderful. Is everything all right?"

Corian moves lightly into the kitchen to get a second mug of the tea, nodding as she does so. "Oh, yes," she replies. "Well, I think it is, at least. I just thought that perhaps I should mention any... personality differences in Tarrant." Funny, she looks just a bit uncomfortable, though she's smiling just the same as she offers the tea.

Clara follows after to remain just outside the kitchen, leaning on a counter to wait, then accepting the tea with a grateful murmur of thanks. "A difference? Tarrant?" Despite your smile, she still looks vaguely alarmed and rather worried. Despite that Tarrant is a patient, he's also a friend and all but family. "What's wrong? Where is he?" she wonders after a sip, darting a glance about the room.

"He is asleep," Corian replies, with a gesture towards the area of the room for that purpose. "We had something of an interrupted night last night." She moves past to perch on the couch once more, though she does tuck the blanket out of the way, then, with a brief smile, the teddy bear that's in the blanket. "He was somewhat more..." She pauses, as if considering her words. "More friendly, yesterday. There was nothing wrong about that, it was just rather odd."

Clara is in a following mood, evidently, and follows over to the couch to perch on the other side and settle one ankle on the opposing knee while listening with a faintly approving, amused smile. "Maybe there's something in the Complex water..." she muses quietly with a fond glance at the floor and glances back up. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? I'm not sure there's anything I...well, I -could-, but do you really want me to?"

Corian murmurs something about the middle of the afternoon, sounding, still, just a little surprised by the whole thing. "This, yes. I... well, it was something that was very different for Tarrant. This is not something that we... very often..." Oh, dear. Poor Corian is turning such the most festive colors. And, apparently, that's not something they -ever- do in the middle of the afternoon. "I just wanted to make sure that it was not something odd that the drug was doing to him. I am not -objecting-, of course..." And you thought she couldn't get more red, maybe? Wrong. "It was just very... unusual."

Clara isn't laughing, no. She's a doctor, and doctors don't laugh when they're helping people. But her eyes are dancing despite that a faint blush is creeping to copper her own cheeks slightly as she gestures with the teacup. "It was a libido super-ray some alien race shot at the men of the Complex yesterday. I shall do a study," she stagewhispers in jest, too quietly to be heard wherever Tarrant might be snoozing. "Seriously, I can look him over, get another blood sample. Or maybe it's just that you've been married a few years, and he's becoming more comfortable with a natural urge, and the fact that you love him and really are willing to do that."

"Perhaps when he is awake," Corian says, casting an uncertain look towards Tarrant. "I would rather not wake him, if we can help it. But it seemed... well, it seemed as if he was startled by his actions as well, or I do not know that I would have mentioned it." Since, after all, one doesn't ordinarily consult a doctor because one's husband wants to have sex. "I do love him, though," she adds, taking up her tea mug and smiling briefly. "I came so very close to losing him. If that drug had worked as it was intended..." She shakes her head, that smile fading. "Well, I am just glad that it did not."

"He was surprised by it?" Clara tilts her head at that, as if thinking this over. "Well, it -could- be that he surprised himself by being relaxed enough to be more forward," she hypothesizes, then ventures a quick grin and shakes her head with reassuring warmth. "You didn't lose him, though. Tarrant's a very, very special man, and while his genetics confound me, I'm expressly grateful for them right now." She pauses, then asks somewhat hesitantly, "If this -is- being caused by a physical reason, do you want me to fix it if I can? Er, given that it's not otherwise harmful, of course." Yes, she's asking you. Tarrant is male. She's already guessing his answer.

Corian nods in response to the query. "He was, yes," she confirms. "Or at least it seemed so to me." She nods once more, more firmly, at the talk of his genetics. "I honestly thought that he was dead," she says candidly, "Or near to it. But then he... wasn't." And, yes, there's ages of relief in her voice at that. She pauses, then, though, to consider the final question. "I... well, no. It is not a problem, after all. And as rarely as either of us..." She pauses. No, there are some things she can't quite say, so she settles on, "It might be a good thing, if it continues. It was just the once, though."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara takes a long, careful sip of the tea, then peers up over the mug with a slow nod. "Thinking he's dead...it's not a describable feeling. And the almost agonizing relief when you realize he isn't," she murmurs. "I understand," she assures then can't help but grin despite her own deepening redness. "Every journey starts with a single step, Corian. It doesn't have to be a daily...weekly...not even monthly occurance. I don't care what those scary women's magazines say," she adds with a low chuckle. "What's important is if the frequency is comfortable for you both. Of course, you could always ask Honalee for advice," she adds, unable to resist just a bit of teasing.

Corian shakes her head at that, with a rather weak laugh and a decided heightening of her blush. "She would very likely send another manual, knowing her, or get poor Tarrant on the comm and ask him some rather embarrassing questions, poor man. No, I think I can certainly live without asking Honalee's advice on this. And... well, I am comfortable with it, but it is more difficult to tell, with him. It is not something we really discuss, after all." Though wouldn't -that- be a disturbing conversation?

"I was teasing," Clara assures with a quiet laugh and a headshake, shifting sideways a bit to rest her mug on one denim-covered knee. "I'd be just as mortified as you to discuss this with her. She's...-pointed-," she decides, searching for the word, although her tone is fond when speaking of the elderly woman. "But there's nothing wrong with discussing it, Corian. I know, I know. It's -not- an easy topic," she assures gently. "It's not something Riley and I discuss really either. Not much, at least. But if you need to, or you're uneasy about something, who better to discuss this with than the man involved?"

Corian hastens to say, "I am not uneasy about it, not really. I just wished to make sure that it was not a sign of something maybe not so pleasant, from the drug." After another sip of her tea, she sets aside her mug, then adds, "The department has one of their labs working on this difficulty, to see if they can come up with a solution that will let Tarrant work in the field again. They may end up sending information to you, so I thought that perhaps warning might be nice."

Clara's brows lift slightly in undisguised curiosity as she balances an elbow on the back of the couch. "Well, it's good to know the DoI is helping somehow," she murmurs. "And I'd be pleased to collaborate with them on this, certainly. I believe we have a mutual interest in the patient at hand," she adds with a faint grin. "Um, Corian...speaking of the DoI, I do have a question," she admits somewhat sheepishly. "If you can't answer, I will understand, I promises."

"I can try to answer," Corian says, though her smile is already apologetic. "I am glad that you understand, though--there is often about the department that which I cannot discuss."

Clara leans forward to set her mug on the coffee table with a quiet chuckle. "There are things about the department I don't want to know," she points out wryly. "I guess my question is more personal though. See, yesterday when Riley came home, he'd been down to the DoI because a nearby embassy had called Security because it sounded like a war was going on down there. Riley said the place was beyond trashed." She pauses a moment to formulate her words, then finally sighs and ventures a wan grin. "Is Tarrant okay?" Not did he do it. She just wants to know if he's okay.

Funny that you didn't suggest that Corian was involved. Of course, she wasn't. At the news, her expression somehow manages to hold equal measures of dismay and amusement. "They caused that much noise? Oh, dear. Tarrant is fine, yes--a few bruises, but nothing serious." She hesitates for a moment, then says carefully, "He was... explaining something." By breaking a chair, yeah.

Yes, but Clara can see you're okay. And she trusts you to tell her if you're not feeling well. She does relax several measures with a relieved sigh, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes, then chuckle. "Thank goodness. I didn't have to ask what happened, although I did. Riley didn't know...I didn't enlighten him," she adds with a faint, sidelong grin. "I only could guess anyway. Were the explanations understood, then?"

"Eventually," Corian says, adding, with a look of quite believable concern, "Some people just do not understand something the first time they are told." With a shake of her head, she adds, "He did not wish for me to be working in the field on my own, and... convinced our employers that this was a bad idea."

Clara inhales a quiet gasp of dismay, nodding once in firm agreement. "He's -entirely- right, too," she decides with a hint of vehemence. "I may not understand the intrigue, but I certainly understand the dange. You -never- go into combat without a buddy to guard your back and keep you sane." Military logic, but she obviously believes it with all her heart. "But, so long as it all worked out, I suppose." She pauses, then tilts her head. "I have another question," she offers sheepishly. "Standard clause, you don't have to tell me if you can't or prefer not to."

Corian offers a faint smile. "I could not refuse them, though," she murmurs, tone not quite apologetic, but close. "They have a manner of asking..." She shakes her head, then. "Well, I do not know if I can answer it, but I can hear the question, at least."

Clara grimaces slightly, although with a begrudging understanding. "I...understand that. Oh, boy do I understand that," she agrees wryly. "Here, here's an offer you can't refuse. Or else," she murmurs with a rueful chuckle, then nods. "That's good enough, for now. I, well, when Tarrant was poisoned, I'm going to assume it was deliberate? Is the perpetrator...still at large? I only ask for safety's sake. That chemical is terribly dangerous, is all."

Corian is quiet for a long moment. "It was... yes, it was deliberate," she says, expression no longer pleasant, but instead a rather studied absence of expression. "And, no. The person who did this is no longer at large, to the best of my knowledge." I mean, he -could- have been reanimated somehow, maybe. It's the future, after all. That just seems pretty bloody unlikely.

With lots of glitter! He can lead the zombie revolt on the Complex! Clara doesn't look worried by this, though, but nods with a fair sight of relief. "Excellent. I won't worry more that I already am about it, then." She glances about briefly, then lowers her voice with a quick, conspiratal grin. "Besides, you never know, this may turn out to be a blessing in very bizarre disguise."

Moooooo. Never mind him, Tarrant's just being weird in his sleep again. Him and Jeff, apparently.

Corian pauses. Did she hear what she thought she heard? "Is he mooing again?" she murmurs, with a glance towards where Tarrant is sleeping. She returns the grin with a smile, then--Corian, after all, rarely grins. "Parts of it most certainly have been, that is true."

"Mooing?" Clara blinks, nonplussed, then slowly turns in her seat to peer at the screen shielding whomever may be sleeping back there, be it Tarrant or Jeffrey. Or both. Not that there's anything wrong with that. "I don't think I can cure him of mooing," she whispers sidelong, trying not to snicker out loud. "We could always find him more cowhide clothing, though?"

Whoever Tarrant is at the moment, he's quiet, for the moment at least. The mooing has ceased.

Corian nods, looking rather amused. "He was mooing last night, and he said something about colors. It was... very late, though." She considers for a moment. "Another cow vest might be nice. It is really such an entertaining piece of clothing."

"Cows with guns," Clara intones solemnly, eyes dancing with mirth as she reaches for her mug to finish the last of the tea. "And a man can always use more clothing made from dead animal hide," she agrees with a quirked grin. "Does his still have that cow vest that he did?"

Corian considers for a moment. "I -think- that may have gotten scorched at some point, but I do not quite recall." Her expression holds a bit of amused rue. "That is a shame, when I cannot keep track of which of his clothing has gotten damaged."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"You and me both," Clara admits with a quiet laugh and an amused headshake. "I swear laundry is going to invade on your brother and lynch him, the poor man's been through more uniforms lately," she explains. "And saints know I send them enough ick-covered stuff, just per profession."

And the silence is definable in a moment, as Tarrant emerges from behind the magical land of the screen. He doesn't look even remotely awake, but somehow has managed to find clothing, jacket, and shoes without making a sound. After all, he's a proper southern gentleman, and there's -company-. Heaven help him if he should be less than politely dressed. He offers a polite wave and a slightly dazed grin, "Afternoon love, Miz Clara." He moves to sink to an unoccupied seat, since sitting in an occupied one would be a bit bizarre.

"I should think that laundry may be used to that, though," Corian offers, "This being the place that it is, and... good afternoon, cha'trez." Tarrant's arrival gets him a bright smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Clara twists back at the greeting, not having heard a thing. Sneaky Tarrant. "Well, good morning," she greets with an amiable grin. "How's my favorite genetically altered patient today?" she asks airily, grinning, then nods at Corian in amusement. "You'd -think- they'd be used to it. I don't think they'll ever get there, though."

Tarrant nods to Corian's question, although his tone is sheepish as he replies. "Yeah, I did, though I had the -weirdest- dream." He devolves into muttering about winking toothbrushes, and we're lucky he just doesn't break out into song, considering. He hmphs in quiet amusement at Clara, "Ahh, and you have such a plethora of such, I'm sure. I'm doin' just peachy though, thanks. And how are you both?"

Corian reaches over to take Tarrant's hand, casting a warm smile towards him. Hey, Tarrant singing would be a good thing, even if he starts dancing with a red-haired moppet. "It sounds like an interesting dream, at least," she offers. "And I am doing quite well. Clara and I were just chatting a bit." Must.. not... blush! Danger, Will Robinson!

Clara probably wouldn't mind Tarrant singing, either. Can we put an afro wig on him and a Superman t-shirt? She rummages at her handy-dandy medical belt for a moment, snickering. "I don't think I want to see that kind of toothbrush," she murmurs, then nods in agreement. "We were indeed. I'm afraid I had to come pester and find out how you were, is all. Can I have some of your blood?"

Tarrant has hair, though, and is not likely to shave it all off. Well, he might if the drug convinced him to. He weaves his fingers through Corian's, and then for proof that he's not -entirely- in the right bucket today he attempts to lie down on the couch, usurping one of Corian's legs as a pillow and snuggling in close. Uh, hello? Tarrant? Linnae to Tarrant? He peers at Clara suspiciously, "Why?"

Corian blinks just a bit at Tarrant's actions, expression one of vaguely startled pleasure. She doesn't seem to -mind- being used as a pillow, though there's not really a lot of leg to pillow. She just brushes the fingers of her free hand lightly through Tarrant's hair. "She just wishes to see how you are doing, cha'trez," she reassures.

Clara is unable to suppress a laugh of approval as she scoots off her edge of the couch rapidly to make room for the impending assassin, and instead perches on another chair to continue worming out the hypo she's looking for. "Corian's right Because you were very, very sick, and I want to keep tabs on your blood chemistry to make sure everything's okay," she explains amiably.

"Okay, as long as she's not going to drink it or anything," There's a pause and Tarrant adds, "Not that there's anything wrong with that. I just don't want to -watch-." Okay, that's potentially -far- too dangerous, and he will stop right there. Instead of adding further comment, Tarrant simply murmurs something vague, pleased, and decidedly sleepy. Hey, at least random pillowization of Corian doesn't involve poinging.

Corian probably would object to getting poinged while Clara's in the room, yes. "She is not going to drink your blood, cha'trez," Corian reassures, with all apparent seriousness. "Just test it to make certain you are well." She keeps up with the hair-stroking, as, hey, it's a soothing gesture. Besides, playing with hair is fun.

Clara probably would object to watching, for that matter. She does make a sound of mock affrontery while laughing, though, and edges to her feet to be able to close in on the couple and steal a sample of Tarrant from his neck. "I don't drink blood," she confirms. "Not even yours. It's just not on my diet, sorry, unless it's rare steak. "Besides, I'll bet yours tastes like crayons," she teases.

Tarrant is a happy camper, he's a content camper, who cares if he's also a little off the deep end? Well, he does, probably, for one, but hey. "Oh dear, crayons...as long as it doesn't taste like paste. Then between that and the crayons I'd be mugged by kindergarteners wanting to eat me." The scary part is, that Tarrant's not saying -that- because of any drug. It's a normal kind of Tarrant comment, and that worries me. A lot.

Corian murmurs a quiet thankyou to Clara, still, yes, petting Tarrant. "I have it on good authority from the young Sectassians that crayons taste quite good," she observes. "Especially the purple ones. So please do try to avoid the young Sectassians, cha'trez? I do prefer you uneaten, after all." Oh, dang, if only Kath were here...

"No, I'm fairly sure Tarrant is probably more the orange crayon type," Clara muses thoughtfully, checking the guage on the hypo to make sure she has a proper amount of sample. "He's probably safe from random Sectasslets and kindergartners. But beware the pre-schoolers," she cautions with a quick grin. "Busy day for a non-medical day," she decides. "Why don't I leave you two some recuperating time together, and I'll just go examine this after kidnapping random people for annual physicals, hmm?"

"Aww, but I like the Sectassians," Tarrant replies with a quiet chuckle, his protest an amused rather than a serious one. "They'll play with me, well most of the time. And they only make periodic comments about me being to big for swingsets and all." His eyes widen a bit as he peers up at Clara, "Oooh, kidnapping, that sounds festive. Need some help? I bet we'd be good at that. We're sneaky, you know."

Corian starts to nod amiably to Clara, then all but chokes on a laugh at Tarrant's words. "Cha'trez, perhaps we should just take it easy today, hm? Kidnapping seems like it might be a fairly involved process, after all."

Clara gapes at Tarrant's words for a moment in surprised amusement that turns to laughter. "Actually, a mass kidnapping might be fun. I'd -love- to see the look on Riley's face if we all showed up to drag him kicking and screaming into Medbay. But today, sir, you need to rest. If I find out you went kidnapping random naval officers, I will come noogie you," she swears solemnly.

"See, that's why we'd bring rope, cause the kicking and screaming part is inconvenient. We did that to John, I think he may still want revenge." Tarrant is apparently having too much fun, as his tone is just terribly pleased with the world. He does snuggle in a bit closer to Corian however at the threat of noogieing, pointing out, "I'll just kidnap Corian instead. She's wonderful, she won't even kick me...much."

Corian shakes her head at Clara's words, murmuring something about how she really couldn't participate in an effort to kidnap Riley. "He would tickle me, or tell embarrassing stories about me, or do something similarly appropriate for an older brother. That would be--Tarrant!" She really can't help but laugh. "I do not kick you, cha'trez. And John -deserved- to be tied up," she adds, sounding quite certain of this fact. "He is an evil and horrible man, and he really needs to write more often."

"I'm all for hearing embarrassing stories," Clara replies cheerfully, tucking the hypo back into it's case at her belt. "Those are always fun," she explains. "You go right ahead and kidnap Corian, Tarrant, though. Just make sure you remember to feed her and give her a nice warm place to sleep. Corians need lots of special care, if you have one of your own," she adds with a wry grin down. "Should I even ask what this man did to be tied up?"

"Oh yeah, right, and the next thing you'll be saying you don't have pointy elbows," Tarrant teases, poking absently at one of Corian's knees. "I have the bruises to prove it...somewhere. I think, or at least I have bruises, and that has to prove -something-." Just what however, he isn't entirely sure. "Oooh, special care, check. Taken for walks, and petted, yeah...check, yup, gotcha...and loved, very much loved."

Corian shakes her head to Clara. "I believe that Riley and I have a deal," she says cheerfully. "If he does not tell embarrassing stories about me, I will not tell similar stories about him." She can't help but pause to awww at Tarrant's words, bending down to kiss his cheek. Of course, she doesn't specify that walks should be taken without leashes, but maybe she thinks that goes without saying. Looking up once more, she says to Clara, "Well, -my- particular reason that I believe that John deserved that was a diversionary method that he preferred. As it involved me to some extent, and because he generally started it knowing that I didn't particularly enjoy it..." Well, let's just say that, while she likes John, she also feels that he needs kicking from time to time.

"Loved is the most important part," Clara agrees, the 'awww' expression evident on her own face as well. She's a sap, yes, and very approving when men are sappy at their wives. "And if it kept said man from doing evil thing, then tying up is certainly good," she agrees approvingly, then ventures another warm smile. "Okay, I'm going to go now, really, and let you two have the afternoon to yourselves. -Do- call me if there's anything you need, though, all right? Even if it's the number to Luigi's delivery."

Tarrant can't help but snicker. See, he's gone enough not to be trying to hide that -he- thought John's distraction was -vastly- entertaining. "Awww, but Corian, you were so -good- at having fits. So good that we sort of had to stand and watch a minute before we could even dash off. I mean, just a -master- at the art." See this spade? See this hole he's digging? "Tying up John was fun too."

And it says something about Corian's tolerance and patience and general sweetness that she doesn't smack Tarrant for this comment. "I do not believe that I was as skilled as you seem to think, cha'trez," she says tranquilly, sounding like this exchange has happened before, many times. "And I still have not forgiven John for that time in the zoo." She offers a smile to Clara, then. "Thank you for coming, Clara, and I will certainly comm if necessary."

Clara just looks vaguely worried mixed with definite amusement, and mutters something about meeting this John person someday before nodding. "You're most welcome. Take care of each other," she suggests amiably. "And have a good afternoon," she adds in farewell with a flitter of wave before heading for the door.

Clara leaves the room.

Clara has left.

"In the zoo was evil," Tarrant has to agree, although it takes him a moment to do so. "I mean doing it -once- was hysterical. Doing it twice was just kind of mean." He snuggles in a bit closer, just because he can. Who needs teddy bears when you have a Corian? (Dupont would be thrilled by this comment.) "But he was evil to all of us, so it was equal opportunity cruelty."

Corian is, though, not available in any stores! Not even for $19.95! She seems perfectly agreeable to all this cuddling, and in fact shifts around to facilitate more cuddling. "And it wasn't really -horrible- evil, just rather obnoxious." She kisses your cheek, then, with a contented little sigh. "I would have to disagree, though, about the humor of doing it even once."

Tarrant apparently enjoys the reassurance of your closeness, because he's all but purring. This is one contented assassin, worse than a kitten with cream and yarn. "Well -yeah-, but that's required too. But we were all pretty horribly evil, and having so much fun being it."

Corian chuckles very quietly at the contentment, though she seems to be the same. "Should we move to the bed and curl up there for a little while, cha'trez? There would be more room." There's a pause, and then she adds, rather apologetically, "The department said that they would be sending up some work later today, so perhaps we should enjoy the free time while we have it."

Tarrant winces at the mention of work, but slips up to a seated position, and climbs from there to his feet. There's no real grace in him, but nor is there effort either. He offers a hand up, nodding simply. "Taking the excuse to be warm and comfortable before the powers that be send evils out way is a wonderful idea."

Corian gets to her feet and takes your hand, interlacing her fingers with your own. "Well, we can always ignore the work," she says, cheerfully enough. "For another day or two, at least. They implied, though, that it was going to be a fair amount. 'Enough to keep you busy for a while' was the phrase, I believe." With a rather rueful shake of her head, she moves over towards the bed, the better to stretch out with the blankets and such.

Tarrant shudders at said thought, and because he thinks it again, shudders once more. He too heads to the bed, carefully shedding boots and jacket before clambering into it with a softly pleased sigh. "Oohh, soft, warm...whoever invented beds was -brilliant-."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian cuddles close with a quiet sigh. "Yes," she agrees. "We can avoid the work for a while, cha'trez. We do not even have to think about it, if we would rather not. And perhaps they will give us a vacation before too much longer, and we can go somewhere warm."

"Someplace warm would be wonderful," Tarrant agrees, curling around you in an attempt to impart as much warmth as he possibly can. "And not thinking, I'm all for that. Thinking is a lot trickier than it used to be, I think. Curling up's more fun, and thinking of warm things."

Corian inquires, with just a touch of concern, "Have you been feeling all right, cha'trez? You seem to be more... yourself than you have been." Not that she's complaining about that other personality that put in an appearance yesterday, but, hey. She pauses long enough to locate another blanket from the foot of the bed, then curls close once more. "There are many warm worlds," she adds, with a smile, "That we can visit together."

Tarrant is not about to complain about the addition of a blanket, although he snuggles in as close to you as he can upon your return. "I'm feeling...odd, but not badly. Just the odd little blank spots in my memory here and there, and being kinda' tired is all. Nothing terribly evil." Of course not, he doesn't -remember- the evil. Hello Hyde? "Many warm worlds," he muses softly. "Ooh, I like the sound of that."

Corian suggests softly, "Perhaps we should tell Clara about that at some point. The more she knows, the more she can help you. But not now--now, I think that just curling up and being together would be best."


Back