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Corian comes lightly into the room with a bundle of paper and plasfilm. "Good
evening, cha'trez," she calls, with a sunny smile. "It appears that the
catalog fairy has found us. There are..." She fans through the stack. "Quite
a few of them. Toys, cold-weather gear..." That gets a wry little smile, but
then she pauses to peer at That Catalog, with the disturbingly-unclad woman
on the front.
Tarrant is seated on one end of the couch, his back resting against the arm
rest. He and Scruffy are apparently engaging in some sort of research
project, involving a thick file folder and a datareader. He glances up with a
bright grin as you enter, "Ooohhh, catalogs are wonderful things." He pauses
a beat and adds, "Cold weather gear is not."
Corian's brows are by now quite elevated. She sets aside all the catalogs but
That One, still peering at in surprise. "This one arrived for you," she says,
her voice carefully opaque to that disbelief. Instead, she just offers the
catalog. And, no, she certainly doesn't open it. Who -knows- what could be
for sale inside. Maybe women!
Oh, and it can't help that Tarrant perks up even further as the catalog's
offered over. "Ooooh," he Kikizes. "I hadn't realized it was time for another
of -these-... This is a -great- catalog." Apparently Scruffy thinks so as
well, as he and Tarrant now set about perusing that. "Holy cow, but...why
does that have pointy bits -there-..."
No, it certainly doesn't help. Corian just stares for a moment. "Pointy bits?"
she inquires, startlement creeping into her voice. Women with pointy bits,
next on Geraldo? "I should think that pointy bits would... well, hurt, in
that situation."
Tarrant's brows furrow somewhat in confusion as he peers up at you. He's
entirely innocent of course as he points out, "I think that's the point. But
I think you'd be in danger of hurting yourself as well as the other person
with this thing."
"You would -want- to hurt the other person?" Corian is aghast, yes. No, she's not forgotten to whom she's speaking, but, well, when one is looking at a catalog of women... "I would not have thought that -pain- was the intended goal, with that sort of thing." She gestures towards the catalog.
Okay, now poor Tarrant is -entirely- confused. "Well, um, that's what they pay
me to do." He does pause a moment however and then shrugs. "Well, given,
death is the point, and not pain, but it's in that same general mix of
concepts."
There's another moment involving a rather disturbed stare, and then Corian
finally asks the key and vital question. "Cha'trez, just what is being sold
in that catalog?"
Tarrant tilts the catalog in such a fashion that its contents are clearly
visible, "Umm, knives mostly, though there's a lot of lockpicks and stuff
like that too. Most of which have vastly disturbing ad copy in an attempt to
pretend this is for entirely legal purposes."
Corian sinks onto the couch with a quiet laugh--relief is there, and quite a lot of amusement with herself. "All right. That is good, very good. But why do they feel the need to put a scantily-clad woman on the front of the cover?"
Tarrant turns the thing over to peer at the cover in confusion a moment, he'd
not even registered the picture. "Oh. Honestly, I have -no- idea. Maybe so
people won't think they're selling knives? Maybe they think people who want
knives want pictures of women in weird clothes?"
Corian shakes her head fractionally. "Well, if the intent is to disguise the product, it worked," she murmurs. She pauses a beat, then. "Do you purchase products from these people?" she inquires curiously. Leaning lightly against you, she peers with interest at the various knives and such.
Settling in closer to you with a contented sigh, Tarrant nods simply. "I did once, and hence the catalogs have been tracking me down like jackals ever since. Mostly I just like to look through them. I get my lockpicks elsewhere, and most of these are scarier looking than they are useful."
Corian sits up long enough to snag another catalog and settle it in her lap,
then curls close once more, with a smile. "It does seem just a bit-- are
those playing cards with -knives- for edges? That just seems really far too
dangerous."
Tarrant seems to find the playing cards -vastly- amusing, and begins snickering cheerfully. "For someone not particularly sane perhaps?" Like him? He flips a page and gestures to the picture of the brass knuckles labeled 'Paperweight'. "Ahh, doesn't this just inspire trust in the company?"
Corian shakes her head very slowly as she regards the 'paperweight'. "All
right, even -I- am not so naive as to believe that," she says, with a shake
of her head. She catches sight of something particularly sharp and pointy,
and winces, with a murmured ouch. "Should I ask what you purchased from these
people?"
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Tarrant pauses a moment and then ruffles through the catalog. Finding a page
near the back he points to a portable blow torch. "Um, one of those." He
looks -so- innocent.
Corian peers at the blowtorch. Then she peers at you. Back to the blowtorch. One brow quirks. "I do hope you did not use it to make grilled cheese sandwiches," she says, absolutely deadpan, though humor glints in her eyes.
Tarrant shakes his head swiftly, grinning. "Nope, I use a much bigger blowtorch for grilled cheese. I just used to use that one for candles and suchlike."
Corian shakes her head, dissolving into quiet laughter and resting her head lightly against your shoulder. "I should have known. Well, I have to say, I really am glad that it was not... say, this." And she indicates one of the more disturbing-looking items, probably involving a skull's head.
Tarrant's brows lower as he peers at the item in question. He looks,
understandably, disturbed. "That's just -surreal-." He shakes his head
lightly, "Nope no skulls, or snakes, or even scary knives for me. That's
just...-surreal-."
"The catalog is interesting, at least," Corian murmurs, with an amused smile. "Though, honestly, I am not surprised that Gardener or John did not send it."
Tarrant flips through it some more, ooohing and aaaahing over several more shiny knives. "I swear, half of these are more show than effort." He nods amiably, "It's John's style, certainly. Sending me scary objects."
Corian remembers belatedly, because her player just thought of it, "There was a
package, too, with the catalogs." She does not ooh and ahh at the knives, but
does smile at them, looking amused. Leaning forward again, she rummages for
said package. "It did not tick," she says, offering the box. No return
address, though.
Tarrant accepts the box with a briefly arched eyebrow and a worried expression.
He tilts it one way and the next a moment, and then with a shrug he begins to
open it carefully, tilting the opening away. "Well, as long as it's not
-ticking-..."
Speaking of John, the package is from him! The note is brief, something to the
effect of, "Happy anniversary, wish I was there." Inside the package is, yes,
that spy game that was seen in the catalog. Corian just peers at it for a
moment, and then dissolves into quiet laughter. "Well, this is one of the
better scary objects that John has sent."
Tarrant dissolves into laughter as well, although it's a little less quiet. He's a less quiet person. He seems -vastly- entertained. Absently he turns over the back to read the back, "And it looks disturbingly fun. Maybe we can hijack other people into playing with us too, and scare them."
Corian nods a decidedly amused agreement to that. "That would be entertaining, yes--perhaps Clara, as she at least would get the joke of it. Josif would love it, I am certain, but he is already very curious as to just what we do for a living, so including him might not be the best of ideas."
Tarrant nods to the last, offering the box over to you with a bemused grin.
"Tormenting the poor man further would be simply cruel, yes. Clara's safe
enough though."
Corian takes the box and rummages for the rules, peering at them with interest before setting them aside. "Josif actually said that he likes you now," she says, sounding amused, "If that's any consolation. He had quite a lot of fun drawing with you. This should be fun as well, though," she says, nodding cheerfully towards the game. "I might -almost- forgive John," she adds, half-teasing. She mostly forgave him ages ago, after all.
Tarrant settles in closer to you, attempting to rest his arm around you. "I'm
glad Josif's no longer wishing to damage me, or upset that I didn't let him."
He hmphs in quiet amusement, "Forgiving John's dangerous. He takes that as a
cue to cause further offense."
Corian snuggles close as well, after setting the game completely aside. "I did
not say that I was going to -tell- John that I had forgiven him, though," she
murmurs. "Further mischief would not, after all, be a good thing. Knowing
John, it would be worse than feigning a fit. He does seem to have that need
to top himself."
Tarrant is -trying- to resist a snicker at the mention of said fit, "Aww, but love, you were so -good- at that. I mean really, you deserved an award."
Corian slants a glance up at you, mostly amused. "Cha'trez, just so you know?
If you put me in a situation where I have to do that again, I would be...
less than pleased. Just so you know. I did not even remotely enjoy doing
that, especially as I did not know how to fall at that particular point. And
the sheer length of time he was -gone-..." Okay, maybe she hasn't forgiven
John after all.
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Tarrant's eyes are wide and his expression innocent. "And what would -ever-
make you think I would do such a thing as that?" There's a pause and he adds,
"As much as I like this couch, I don't wish to have to sleep on it for the
rest of my natural life."
Corian leans close to kiss your cheek, expression amused. "Oh, I am certain
that you would never -ever- do that, cha'trez. I just thought I should
mention that fact. Besides," she adds, expression softening, "I would not
make you sleep on the couch for the rest of your life. That, after all, is
-quite- a long time."
Tarrant brightens at the kiss, beaming at you in a terribly fond fashion. "Well yes, but it's a sturdy couch, I'm sure it would be equal to the task." He squeezes you a bit closer a moment. "I swear, I had not known I could love you more than I did, but yet each day I do. I swear Corian, you are a wonder."
Corian shakes her head at that. "It was not the couch that worried me, but you.
I could not bear to be apart from you for so long." She lifts a hand to toy
with your hair, just because she can, a smile warming her face. "You love me
because we are discussing you sleeping on the couch?" she inquires. "I think
that -I- am not the wonder, if that is the case. But I love you as well,
cha'trez--more than I can ever say."
Tarrant seems to find this amusing as well, and snickers softly. But then he finds -everything- amusing. "Well no, not because of the couch I must admit." He absently ruffles through his hair with one hand, looking a bit sheepish. "Despite any possible comments, I didn't marry you for your couch, honest."
"Aww, and the poor couch will be so -hurt- to hear that," Corian murmurs, again
looking rather amused. "I, however, am quite glad, as nice a couch as it is.
That is rather reassuring."
Tarrant pats at the couch in an attempt at a reassuring gesture. He still loves
it, just not as much. "I'll have to find it an ottoman or something by way of
apology."
Corian pauses a beat, then laughs, shaking her head. "I am certain that will
help," she murmurs. The couch could love it and squeeze it and hug it and
call it George? "Though an apology really should not be necessary. Couches
are quite resilient." She reaches to push at the couch, and it springs right
back. "See?"
Tarrant can't help but roll his eyes, and then offers in a chiding tone, "But
they're all softies at heart. You must be -kind- to couches, and not poke
them."
Corian considers that for a moment, then nods. "Oh, you are quite right,
cha'trez. It was very wrong of me to poke the poor couch." She pats said
couch rather soothingly, murmuring, "There, there." Slanting a glance at you,
she says, "It almost seems like it needs a name." Oh, great, naming the
furniture. Next she'll be saying not to sit on the couch, because it's the
furniture's time of the month.
Tarrant considers the couch at great length, tilting his head this way and that
as each inch is thought over. "Fluffy? It's certainly very fluffy. Or maybe
'SucksPeopleIntoItsDepths'?"
Corian ponders that for a moment as well. "Fluffy is shorter, at least. That might be preferable, though it really -is- skilled at trapping people."
Tarrant will simply assume 'Sucks' is just right out of the bargain. He nods amiably. "FLuffy goes well with Scruffy too. Maybe they can be friends."
Corian would, yes, object to sitting on anything called 'Sucks'. "Well, Scruffy
is such a friendly sort," she replies, with a quick smile. "I am certain they
will get on famously." In fact, she reaches over to pat Scruffy. He's such a
good, quiet pet.
And he doesn't even shed, or object to being used as a pillow. Scruffy's amazingly useful. "Well, considering Scruffy's so -friendly-..." Tarrant lives in a very weird world. "I mean, how could they not?"
But at least it's a -fun- weird world. "And Spot as well," she adds, with a
glance to locate the stuffed floppy dragon. "We really do have quite a lot of
friendly sorts here." Her lips quirk. "We are probably going to return here
some evening to find Scruffy and Spot on Fluffy, when we had not left them
there, they are that friendly."
Said floppy dragon is sprawled on one of the pillows on the bed, standing guard
over it. "Well, I guess that begs an important question then." Tarrant fixes
you with an intent look, "Is Fluffy fixed?"
Corian stares at you for a moment, and then, after that pause, dissolves into
quiet laughter. "I... hope so? But are stuffed animals and couches
genetically compatible? I really do not think that we have to worry much
about that."
Tarrant just lifts his shoulders in a dramatic shrug, "I haven't a clue, I must
have slept through that part of biology. They all have stuffing, does that
help?"
Corian considers that for a moment, then offers a mock-stern look to Scruffy,
and to Spot, and to her bear for good measure. "All right, there is to be no
stuffing exchange. Does everyone understand that?" She pauses, then adds, to
you, "Should that help?"
Tarrant nods emphatically, his expression still serious. "I'd have listened, I
bet they did."
Corian is having a bit more difficulty remaining serious. Maybe she's picturing
itty bitty couches with wings and wooly fur. "Well, they do have a very good
home here, and it seems like a very simple rule," she says, once she regains
her composure. "Hopefully they will listen. I would really hate to have to
separate them."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
"Didja' hear that Scruffy? Now we wouldn't want that, would we?" Tarrant is
barely managing to avoid a yawn, but he's trying. "It's much nicer when you
can be on the couch."
Corian does, however, catch the yawn, and offers a sympathetic smile. "You look
tired, cha'trez. Perhaps we should get to bed, hm? It has been something of a
long day, after all."
Tarrant looks rather sheepish indeed, but nods his agreement. "I'm sorry love,
but yes, sleep sounds like a wonderful idea. A nice warm bed, and a nice long
sleep..."
Corian gets to her feet and offers a hand, bundling up her teddy bear under her
other arm. Hey, you're probably going to take a stuffed animal; she may as
well do the same. "Sleep does sound like an excellent idea, especially curled
up with you."
Tarrant is indeed snagging Scruffy, and climbs to his feet taking your hand as
well. "And warm, and pleasant, and probably surreal. And hopefully we won't
wake up with little baby fluff critters."
Corian chuckles very quietly as she heads on towards bed, pausing only to find
more suitable clothing. "I should think that the adult fluff critters will
listen to us." Yes, mark the day, Corian said 'critters'. You must be rubbing
off on her. She settles herself in bed, then, after shifting Spot to your
side of the bed.
Tarrant sheds his shoes and clambers into bed with you, Spot, Scruffy, and the bear. He looks terribly pleased. "Oooh. Warm. It's so nice."
Corian cuddles up close with a contented little sigh. "Warmth is a good thing," she murmurs, stealing a kiss. "Sleep well, cha'trez. Have a good rest."
Tarrant snuggles in all the closer, content to curl up with you as a pile of
arms and stuffed animals. "Dream sweetly love." And with that he's rather
rapidly asleep, despite his lack of innocence.
Corian doesn't take much longer to drift off, still lightly embracing you. Aww. People and stuffies, all cuddled together. Someone get a camera.