Revelations and remembering

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3/24/99

Tarrant comes ambling in, really, no honest. He wasn't here all along. Amble, swagger, very Tarrantian methods of movement. He doesn't look -quite- as cheerful as usual, and in fact *gasp*, is almost serious of countenance.

Corian, though she's intent on her datapad, glances up at the sound of the spurs. She's gotten so that she can filter out other sounds, but those always manage to catch her attention. She offers a quizzical smile. "Good afternoon, Tarrant. Are you doing well?"

-Almost- serious being the key phrase. As he's addressed, Tarrant turns to the voice. He offers a sweeping bow, once again doffing his non-existant hat. Straightening he nods, "Afternoon, Miz Treston. Well enough, although I've had to turn down a contract. That always throws the day for a loop."

Corian smiles at the bow, returning it from her seated position. At your words, however, she sobers somewhat. "A contract," she echoes quietly. No, no, she's not going to ask who, she's not part of that any more. "Well. I do hope your day takes a better turn, then."

Tarrant seems to be a bit torn. See, you are out of this, but then there are other considerations. But then it's hardly something he's -supposed- to discuss. But he can trust you. But... You get the idea. He thinks about things a lot. "There

Corian smiles at that, carefully not pushing the issue. Clicking off her datapad, she says, "I am glad that I was able to assist, then. And you did the same--it is high time that I stopped work for the day."

Tarrant is caught with indecision, but after a glance around at the location opts for non-discussion. He glances at the time, nodding. "The hour has flow most assuredly. Had you any plans after this evening's work?"

Corian shakes her head. Looking perhaps a bit sheepish, she admits, "I usually do not realize that the time for work to end has passed until it is nearly time to sleep. I am somewhat at loose ends."

Tarrant shakes his head in mock dismay, "Miz Treston, you are in-cur-able I tell you. When will you ever learn to live a little?" His tone is cheerfully teasing, "There's a world outside the building, would you give it any creedance? I can prove it to you?"

Corian laughs softly at that. "I stepped outside the building two days ago, Tarrant--and the day before that, I even went to the Quarter, miracle of miracles. I do, though," she says thoughtfully, "Need to venture out somewhat more than I do."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant brings a hand to his heart, as if shocked beyond shock. "No, you're telling tales out of turn, you -left- the building? Is the tabby tiger changing her stripes?" He flashes a grin, "Venturing out is certainly an idea, and a pleasant one at that. This is a lovely world, and the surrounding areas quite entertaining. I am particularly reminded of the toy store in the Quarter that has things out to be played with. I -suppose- they intended it for children, but it is still exceedingly amusing."

Corian shakes her head at your feigned shock, expression decidedly amused. "I do hate to be the one to shatter your beliefs, Tarrant, but I manage to leave the building every few days. The bakery will not deliver, you see." Of course, she doesn't mention that both the getting outside and the eating of the baked goods are suggestions from Clara. At the last, she chuckles quietly, but looks interested despite herself. "Somehow, it does not surprise me that you would enjoy such a place."

Tarrant cannot help but look a little sheepish at the last, although he does looks amused still. "I am afraid I am not yet past childhood, yes. Still, it is an entertaining location, and the staff does not at least laugh -openly-." Oh yeah, like Tarrant's never been laughed at. "The bakery?"

Corian says, with a smile, "There is a difference between childish and childlike, Tarrant. You are most definitely not the former." Absently straightening her shirt, she nods at the inquiry. "Clara showed it to me--it's quite a wonderful place. I have developed a taste for a type of cookies baked there."

Tarrant offers a rather wry grin, "I think my mental age is arguable based on conditions." His even brows lift, looking interested. "A good bakery is something to be held onto with pitons and rope. They seem to fade, or never be open when one desires it..."

Corian returns the grin with a pleasant smile. "I could show you this one, if you like. The hours are convenient--well, they're convenient for my schedule, but that is somewhat flexible."

Tarrant lifts his non-existant hat in acknowledgement, "I would appreciate that terribly, Miz Treston. And by doing so, I could also witness this marvel of the ages, oh spotted tabby that leaves the building."

Corian, with a shake of her head and an amused smile, gets to her feet. Tucking her datapad into a pocket, she inquires, ""Would now be convenient for you? I am free this time most evenings, though I seldom remember that."

"As I am currently between jobs, my hours have no call upon them." Tarrant straightens, half flourishing for you to precede him. "My honor and my time to dance attendance upon you, Miz Treston."

Corian, with a decidedly pleased smile for your words, starts for the exit. "And that is my good fortune," she murmurs.

[Travelspam deleted.]

Tarrant arrives from the Massive Open Air Pavilion.

Tarrant has arrived.

Corian, walking lightly along the cobblestones, casts a quick smile towards you. "I am outside--and, as you see, I am not melting, nor dissolving into dust. The bakery is that way," she adds, with a graceful gesture in the proper direction. "What about this toy store?"

Tarrant ambles along afterwards, oddly enough, his spurs do not seem to be jingling overmuch at the moment. He grins down, "It is indeed a miracle, and one worthy of note." He gestures down in the opposite direction. "Down that way, three blocks, and next to the place with all the flowers." He glances around. "Miz Treston, I would point out to you, now that we're out of the recorded areas. The contract I turned down, was on your brother." Of -course- he turned it down. Otherwise isn't that suicide?

Corian, not surprisingly, comes to a halt, looking somewhat surprised. "I..." She pauses for a moment. "Tarrant, ordinarily I would not even ask this of you, and if you would rather not answer, I understand, of course. Who offered this contract to you?"

"An independant," Tarrant explains, having it seems, expected the halt. "-Not- the powers that be. In fact, when they read my report, I've no doubt they'll be entirely unthrilled."

Corian seems somewhat relieved by your reply, but still looks decidedly unhappy with the situation at large. "Thank you," she says quietly. "Is there any chance that you could be more specific?"

Tarrant shakes his head, a slow shift. "If I had any more information than the request, and the total lack of professionalism of it, I'd offer it. But I haven't. There was a go-between, as is common in cases such as these. If it is any reassurance, I doubt any of the real professionals would take on such a contract."

Corian says quietly, "But those who are not professional, especially those who think that they are..." She shakes her head. "Thank you for the information, Tarrant. I need to pass it on to him, but I will keep your name out of it, of course."

"I'd appreciate that," Tarrant replies amiably, looking decidedly apologetic. "Still, it is unlikely it will be of any moment. Surely the arrangements in the Complex are designed to prevent such things."

Corian nods slowly to that, though she still looks worried. "I would hope so--especially if he is aware of the possibility. But assassination attempts made here in the past have succeeded, after all. There is Lexington..."

Tarrant starts, and then with another glance around, his words lower again, the drawl all but gone. "It is entirely possible that Lexington is not dead."

Corian's brows incline fractionally. "But there were DNA tests," she starts slowly, to conclude, "Which could be... arranged, as we know. You have reason to suspect this, I take it?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant simply nods, all seriousness now. "I would say it was exceptionally likely he still lives. Unless he tripped and broke his neck since last I saw him."

Corian, with a slight shake of her head, says, with a hint of irony, "And Riley worried that I'd be bored, here." Lips curving faintly, she says, "Tarrant, I do not wish to question you too closely, but, as you brought up the subject..."

Tarrant glances around again, but then nods after a moment. "Ask away, I do not have to answer after all."

Corian, at the glance, takes a casual look around the quarter as well. "Perhaps this would be best done elsewhere?" she suggests.

Tarrant nods crisply, the depth of it making it more of a bow. "I think perhaps that might be in our best interest, yes."

Corian, with a faint smile, suggests, "My quarters? Yours? Or perhaps beyond the Steading. I am told that there is a lake; perhaps it would be quiet there."

"Either of the last two," Tarrant looks somewhat amused. "Mine are swept for bugs, and it is more difficult to record outside. My apologies Miz Treston, but I don't know if that's the case for yours."

Corian nods equably to that. "Whichever you prefer, Tarrant," she says, not looking surprised. "I did not think it quite... proper to invite myself to your quarters without extending a similar invitation to you."

Tarrant gestures back towards the Complex, "My quarters then, Miz Treston? For while it may lack in comfort, it bears security."

Corian inclines her head. "That sounds splendid, yes. Considering the circumstances, the bakery and the toy store will have to wait."

Tarrant looks almost dissapointed at that. Bakeries sounded -really- good. But once again he bows in a sweeping gesture, indicating you should precede him.

Corian, catching the nearly-disappointed look, chuckles quietly. "I will show you tomorrow, if you like."

[Travelspam deleted.]

Tarrant unlocks the door to room F10 and goes inside.

Tarrant has left.

You unlock the door and go into room F10.

Room F10

This room is plain, yet efficient. But there all similarity between it and its brethren ceases. It may have at one time done double duty as a storage area, as the walls are lined with shelves. At the moment, the bulk of them are empty, although some hold low boxes, and others neatly folded clothes. A small door leads into the refresher unit in one corner. The rest of that wall is taken up with a long low work area. Various gadgets and pieces of machinery are scattered across it. The bed is a wall unit which may be tucked away for storage. A low coffee table hunkers down next to a tiredly sagging couch in the middle of the room. The walls are mostly decorated with maps where they are not hung with shelves. A single framed print however dominates the far wall, a sepia toned picture of Ford's Theater.

Contents:

Tarrant

Obvious exits:

Out

You come in from the Housing Hub.

Tarrant shifts a pile of paperwork from the couch and onto a shelf, looking decidedly apologetic. "I am afraid it is a less than pleasant location. But beggars cannot be choosers."

Corian pauses inside the doorway, gaze taking in the room. She nods, not looking especially surprised, as her eyes rest on the print. "It will suffice," she says, with a small smile. She moves to seat herself, legs crossing at the ankles.

Tarrant catches the look towards the print, grinning in amusement, "I could hardly leave -that- behind, now could I?" He seats himself with a bit of flair on the opposite end of the couch, as if it were far grander than it is.

Corian whistles a fragment of music, with a shake of her head. "Of course you couldn't. Not after all this time." Smoothing her skirt with one hand, she takes a moment to remember her questions. Ah, yes. There it is. "Why do you believe that Lexington still lives?"

"I was offworld, on the border moon station." Tarrant eases back a bit, "A bit of business to conduct. He was there. Disguised a bit, but it was him all right."

Corian's brows lift sharply. "When was this?" she inquires.

Tarrant glances at his wrist, and its time piece, as cheesily archaic as the rest of him. "About nine hours ago. Hence my statement that it's likely he still lives."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian has a pocket watch--she's got a little bit of the archaic about her, as well. "Ah," she says quietly. "Yes... I do believe that Riley will be interested to hear this." Gee, she's gifted at understatement, isn't she? "Thank you for telling me that. Goodness... too many questions, but which to ask next."

Tarrant toys idly with the tie on one cuff, "As best I could ascertain, although my time in which to investigate was limited, his assassination was arranged to provide an opening in the Chairman's seat. And he was aware of this intent, and helped arrange it."

Corian's brows arch sharply. "Well, that answered two of the questions," she murmurs. "Did he seem... stable? Though I did--do not know the man, some of his actions near the end seemed somewhat erratic."

"Stable as far as I could tell, although admittedly my exposure was brief. It was a chancy situation, I was not exactly supposed to be where I was when I came across him." Tarrant explains, his drawl tinged words cut carefully so they are not slow and ambling.

Corian inclines her head, clearly not even remotely surprised to hear that you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. "Do you have any idea who was behind the whole scheme?"

Tarrant considers this a moment, reaching as if to pull off his hat. There's a pause as he realizes he isn't wearing one. "I couldn't say for certain, as there's likely a number of people involved. But certainly the current Chairman would have to be at least involved?"

Corian nods at that, gears turning. "Oh, of course." She pauses, then, to cast a thoughtful look at you. "What you said the last time we spoke, about... windfalls, was it? How long have you known about this?"

"Known?" Tarrant questions, "About nine hours." There's a pause, "Suspected? Since Lexington's all too convenient demise."

Corian shakes her head, with a quiet, rather rueful chuckle. "I really should know better, by now, than to take such happenings at face value."

Tarrant tilts his hands up in a graceful shrug, "You did not have the same access to information I did. Being a civilian is protection, but it is also an uninformed state."

Corian nods her agreement to that. "There are times when I miss it," she admits, with a faint smile. "But after that last disaster..." She shakes her head, smile gradually fading, and says, a bit abruptly, "Is there anything else that you think I should know, that you are able to tell me?"

"I can't think of anything else, I am sorry. I will keep my eyes out however, for more information, or would be assassins." Tarrant's offer is rather subdued at the mention of the prior disaster.

Corian inclines her head. "I would appreciate that," she says, expression somewhat apologetic. "I suppose I should leave you, now."

"If you wish," Tarrant replies evenly. "Unless you'd rather take up a more pleasant topic. I am sorry for having spoiled your evening."

Corian shakes her head, smile returning--though it's not quite as strong as it usually is. "You did not do that, Tarrant. I enjoy your company."

Tarrant looks decidedly apologetic naetheless, "I am afraid it cannot be too enjoyable however to be presented with a reminder of a past prefferred forgotten."

Corian shakes her head at that. "Tarrant," she says quietly, a smile crossing her face. "Though, yes, I would prefer not to remember that last incident, I hardly wish to discount three years of my life. It was not all enjoyable, but what life is? I would remember the positive--the friendships, the tasks performed well."

Tarrant considers that a moment, then nods. "Then my apologies for the misunderstanding. There were certainly a host of good memories to be had. It is a crime indeed that the group was split seven ways to sunday. There were some good people."

Corian says, with a quick smile, "There is no need to apologize, van'chela. Even you are allowed the occasional misunderstanding--as long as you do not let it happen again." Her tone holds a bit of humor. "I would not mind seeing the group again," she agrees, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. "But that is unlikely to the point of impossibility."

Tarrant nods to that, crossing arms over his chest and tucking the hands beneath opposite arms. "We're spread to the four winds, yeah. I think the powers that be were afraid. These are the kinds of things that happen. I think the only happy chance that finds even two of us in one place is your retirement."

Corian nods her agreement to that, after a thoughtful pause. "Another reason to be glad that I retired, then," she observes quietly. "I cannot help but hope that you are able to remain here for a time."

"It looks that way," Tarrant's tone is druly amused. "They fear me the most it would seem, and wish to keep me close to hand. I find it amusing, they create tools that scare them too much to use. This is perhaps not altogether smart, aye Miz Treston?"

Corian, expression somewhat amused, shakes her head. "Once again, you are correct, sir." Yes, it's Ed McMahon. She gets to her feet, moving to study the print. "But, then, they are not infallible, either."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant chuckles quietly, "No they aren't. They do try to imply that they are, though." He watches you move to the print. "Not the same print. Another copy of the same. The last one wasn't salvagable after all the mess."

Corian nods, lifting one hand to trace a finger along the edge of the frame. "I had wondered," she says, smiling as she turned. "About the frame, of course," she adds. "Not of the infallibility, or the implication of the same. She returns to perch on the couch once more, careful not to look -too- closely at the various gadgets.

Tarrant looks somewhat amused, "I think I salvaged spurs and what I was wearing at the time out of the whole mess. And what I was wearing was assuredly debatable. But then my room was on the north end after all."

Corian rests her hands on her knees, really the picture of a well-bred young lady. Appearances really -can- deceive. "We can't seem to stay away from this topic," she observes, with a thoughtful smile. "This is something I'd considered, back when I was still with the department--what we all would talk about, if we did not have the common ground of the job."

Tarrant brings himself up short, looking exceedingly chagrined. "That having been the only common thread we had as a rule. Entirely different worlds, people, interests..."

Corian suggests, lips quirking faintly, "Well, I should think that we would be able to find some sort of similar interest, about which we could chat--at least between the two of us." Rummaging in the pocket of her sweater, she suggests, "Toys, for one."

Tarrant nods to that, looking perhaps a bit disconcerted. No, no see that can't be. Tarrant doesn't look disconcerted. It's not in his repetoire. "Toys are marvelous things. The only difficulty I've ever had with my siblings children, they do not seem to think I should get to play too."

Corian finally takes her hand from her pocket, revealing whatever it is she was trying to find. It's an intricate little puzzle, carved of more of that ironwood that her father seems to prefer. "Are you all right?" she inquires, catching that disconcerted look and reiterating with concern. "We can talk of something else, if you'd rather."

Tarrant nods quickly, untucking his hands to slouch a bit. But artfully. He slouches creatively. "I'm fine," he drawls offering a grin. The puzzle gets a look of interest however, brows lifting in curiosity.

Corian offers the puzzle. It's a box, which eventually opens into several pieces, including a 'secret' compartment in which something small may be carried. It's currently empty. "A toy," she supplies, with a smile. "A gift from my father. I was anticipating a visit from the young Sectassians, you see, and was hoping that this would distract them."

Tarrant accepts the puzzle, fingers carefully manipulating the pieces. Obviously he and the Sectasslets share something in common. He's easily amused. As the interlocking bits are shifted back and forth he can't help but whistle. "As neat as this is, it is almost too beautiful to be played with."

Corian watches you with amused interest. "Almost," she agrees. "Yes. But father made it to be enjoyed, in whichever manner you prefer. If that is merely looking, of course, that is what you should do. But... well, it does not seem that that is the case, for you."

Tarrant looks rather sheepish, "I did say almost..." He cannot help it, it's a -thingy-, and thingies should be -solved-. There's a pause, "Wait a moment, you said your father made this? He is very talented."

Corian inclines her head. "He is gifted," she agrees, "If very modest about his skill." She reaches into her sweater for the necklace, there. No, it's not the leaf, though she's still wearing that. This one is wooden as well, an extremely lifelike lotus flower, carved from sandy-pale wood.

Tarrant's attention is actually pulled up from the puzzle to regard it. Unguarded his expression is still decidedly impressed, "He has no call to be modest, certainly. It takes great skill for things such as these." There's a soft click and Tarrant grins, holding the puzzle in its open state. "One of the Sectassians would have done that in half the time," he notes with amusement.

Corian shakes her head at that, expression amused as she tucks the lotus back under her sweater. "If they had let one of them hold on to it for long enough, perhaps, but that is unlikely. And you were much quicker at it than I was, the first time I tried it." With a quick smile, she adds, "And I have told him of his skill, but he seems to think that being Edreeni explains it all."

Tarrant reverses the movements, setting the puzzle back to its former state with a bemused grin as he offers it back. "I am afraid I posess nothing so lovely, although I have a small collection of such puzzles." He leans back to a shelf within reaching distance, pulling a box the size of a shoebox down. Tugging off the top the contents are revealed to be four or five odd puzzles, a yo-yo and a wind up giraffe.

Corian takes the puzzle with a murmured thankyou, returning it to her pocket. "You have different priorities, perhaps," she suggests. "And I also have my father, who seems to find it necessary to send me some of his work every several months." She peers with interest at the box, at least one of the objects inside sparking a grin of delight.

Tarrant shifts the box within easy range, lest you should want to examine the contents. "Various things originally bought to be sent to nieces and nephews..." He looks rather sheepishly amused, "I had to choose other gifts for them instead, I found I missed previous toys enough that I needed just a -few-..."

Corian takes the giraffe, the better to peer at it. "Oh, I can certainly understand that. Everyone needs a few toys, after all." She winds up the toy, then puts it down on the table, so she can watch it wind down. "That's adorable, Tarrant."

Tarrant snags one of the puzzles, although his apparent familiarity with it implies he already knows the solution, and is just shifting it back and forth for something to be done with his hands. "He just seemed so amusingly solemn for such an absurd little thing. I could not pass him up. He and I understand each other." That last is accompanied with an amused grin.

Corian nods as the giraffe finally winds down to a stop. She picks up the toy, considering it for a moment. "An admirable companion," she says, with a quiet laugh. Watching you with the puzzle for a moment, she suggests, "Perhaps you need another of those."

Tarrant sets the puzzle through to solution and back again, chuckling quietly. "Probably, although there is something comfortable about the ones that I know how to solve. Especially after a day full of puzzles I cannot. I wish I had discovered the things before, they're fascinating."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian takes the puzzle from her pocket once more and offers it, expression inquiring. "May I make you a gift of this one, then? You seemed to take more enjoyment from it than I do."

Blink. Pause. Blink. For a moment Tarrant is startled, and obviously pleased, but the Southern gentleman facade is found, although the pleased look does not go away. "Much as I appreciate the offer Miz Treston, I couldn't. It's far too beautiful, and a gift from your father after all. Thank you though, it's kindly offered."

Corian does not retract either the hand or the puzzle. "It would please me if you would take it," she replies, with a smile. "Then, when we must part ways, you will have something to remind you of me, and of this pleasant evening." Expression going a bit amused, she adds, "And you -are- allowed to address me by my given name, Tarrant." She doesn't remind you what it is, though a hint of uncertainty could suggest that she's wondering if -that's- why you've been calling her 'Miz Treston'.

There's a long pause, but Tarrant accepts the puzzle with a nod and a wistful smile. "Under terms like that, I find it impossible to disagree. My thanks." He looks more than a bit amused at the last, "I was -wondering- when you'd get fed up with that... I think I lost the pool though, seeing as I haven't even seen the man keeping it in quite some time."

Corian smiles warmly as you take the puzzle. "You are most welcome." At that last, a bubbling laugh escapes her. "This was for a bet? I thought you were merely being an excessively polite gentleman."

Tarrant looks rather sheepish, "That was the original intent, you never had prior given me permission to address you by your given name. It's not polite and all to address a lady by her name without permission. But then it got mentioned that you were the only one who still was addressed so after enough time, and betting was placed as to when you would object."

Corian shakes her head, expression most definitely amused. "I still do not object, of course--but I was certainly puzzled. I even asked John about it, after a few months, and he assured me that it would offend you if I suggested that you should do other than you were doing." Lips quirking, she suggests, "Perhaps we had not yet passed his day in the pool."

Tarrant stifles a laugh, poorly, at that. His fingers are already setting about re-working the puzzle. "Must not've. I swear, if I'd've known, I'd've poked him. Hard. I prefer to call folks what they wish to be called, but starting from the formal's only polite."

Corian chuckles softly, shaking her head at that. "I did not mind. I have often been called that in the past--though generally only by children who were also my pupils. And, as John did not win the pool, I suppose it is all right."

"Besides, it always seemed to fit," Tarrant adds after a pause. "You were the lady of the group. Everybody else was ... rougher."

Corian inclines her head, after a pause of her own. "Ah, but I was not originally intended to be part of the group," she observes. "So I suppose it makes sense that I did not quite... blend."

"That and you have the breeding the rest of us lacked," Tarrant starts to add something, but is obediant to his intent to stay away from discussing work. "Still, it takes all kinds, worked all the better for it."

Corian chuckles quietly at the mention of breeding. "The upbringing, perhaps," she murmurs. "Though I suppose that breeding could, perhaps, play a part." Inclining her head, she adds, "We did work well together, yes." After a brief pause, she inquires, "Did anyone involved in the pool guess anything close to now?"

Tarrant pauses a moment to consider it, "Not so as I recall, but then it's been a while. I wasn't keeping real track of it I'm afraid. I don't think anybody computed the seperation into the equation, so prolly not."

Corian murmurs, "A shame. I suppose my tolerance for formality was underestimated, then." After a pause, she inquires curiously, "When did you think I would complain?"

"My bet was that you wouldn't," Tarrant looks rather sheepishly amused, "I said you never would, hence why I can remember that I'd've lost, without recalling any of the other bets."

Corian's brows lift at that. "Why did you think I would not?" she inquires curiously. "And, for that matter, do you recall when the bet was made?"

Tarrant's fingers click the puzzle through to its completion once again. "You're a lady, it seemed only appropriate that you be addressed as one. It was proper manners, not likely to be changed around, hence you wouldn't say anything I figured." He considers that at length, "Two months after you came to us? Perhaps three?"

Corian, for some reason, seems to find being termed a lady, and discussion of appropriate forms of address, somewhat amusing. "Ah, so it was not a very long time after our meeting," she murmurs, gray eyes still shining with mirth. "That is understandable, then."

"And after enough time, habits become ingrained." Tarrant's hands once again begin shifting the puzzle pieces, but slowly. "Never questioned."

Corian nods her agreement to that, gaze on your hands, and the puzzle. "If you would prefer to continue calling me as you have in the past, I have no objections to that."

Tarrant shakes his head rather emphaticly, "Hey, no, I'd rather call you as you prefer to be called. I certainly have no objection to using your given name." He grins, "After various years and all, it's not as if we've not been properly introduced."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian lifts her eyes to your face as you shake your head. "Well, then," she says, with a mock-hauteur that is balanced by her obvious amusement. "I give you leave to call me Corian, sirrah."

Tarrant does not quite choke on the effort to stifle a laugh, instead doffing his imaginary hat once again and holding it over his heart and tilting head and shoulders in a bow. "You do me great honor, and I shall strive to be worthy of it."

Corian does laugh at that, relaxing to the pleasant demeanor that she usually prefers. "I -am- glad that there is more to that situation than John said. For weeks after that, I was worried that I would offend you."

"I am terribly difficult to offend," Tarrant says, straightening back up and replacing the non-existant hat. "That's the thing about being offensive, being offen-ded- is not easy."

Corian shakes her head at that. "You are not offensive, Tarrant," she says serenely. "At least, you do not offend -me-. I cannot, however," she adds, with the barest hint of a smile, "Speak for the rest of the universe."

Tarrant attempts to look miffed, although he stops at the last, mock relief taking over his features. "As long as I am still offending the universe. It's in my contract you see, and if I were -failing-..."

Corian offers, with an innocent smile that is not even remotely overdone, "There are acquaintences I have made through my work here whom I am sure you would offend. If you like, I could provide an introduction?"

Tarrant brightens, as if you have offered him another gift, "You know, I think I would -enjoy- that. There is little that brightens my day further than getting a diplomat spitting mad."

Corian's innocence dissolves into amusement. "I will be very glad to assist in your day-brightening, as long as it is near the conclusion of the time that day that I must spend in the diplomats' hall. Dealing with spitting-mad diplomats, you see, is not a happening that would brighten -my- day."

Tarrant laughs quietly at that, nodding. "Perhaps you could simply point them out from a distance and then flee?"

Corian, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiles, replies, "But then I would not be able to witness the great event."

Tarrant grins, carefully tilting the wooden puzzle back and forth to regard the workmanship. "True enough, true enough. And the joy of making a spectacle of myself is an audience, so I'd hardly wish to discourage a willing one."

Corian chuckles at your words and nods, then winds up the giraffe once more, a slow smile crossing her face as she watches it. "The important question, though, is -which- diplomat you wish to infuriate. There are several who would suffice. Saaranus would be a likely bet, but, as I am friends with his youngest wife, we should probably avoid him."

"Annoying ones are best," Tarrant suggests, watching both you and the toy with a faintly fond grin. "It's such delightful revenge."

Corian glances up from the toy. "Of course," she says, with a hint of surprise in her voice. "I would consider nothing less. I would not set you to annoy Elasia, for example, as she is a sweet young woman." And it would also be too weird.

Tarrant grins amiably as he climbs to his feet to go rummage in and amongst the shelves contents. "Annoying as compared to simply easy to annoy you see. While they are often one and the same, it is not always so."

Corian inclines her head at that, watching your rummaging for a moment before her attention turns back to the giraffe. As it winds down again, she chuckles softly and returns it to the box. "I understand, of course. Those whom I am considering are both."

Tarrant brings a short bit of red ribbon from a box of odds and ends, and re-seats himself on the couch. Leaning over to the giraffe he ties a bow around the little thing's neck, tucking like a bow tie. He then sweepingly offers the toy to you. "Both, the best possible combination."

Corian's silvery-blonde brows arch delicately at the presentation of the be-bowed giraffe, though she does smile. "Tarrant, it is not necessary for you to offer a gift in return for the puzzle. Your pleasure in it was all that I wished to see."

Tarrant sniffs dramatically, "But Corian, he wants to go home with you, can't you see the pitiful looks he's giving you? It is nothing in return, unless you count the bow, which I'll admit was mine to give. If he wants to follow you home I can hardly -prevent- him after all."

Corian's smile blossoms as you finally use her name. After a moment of consideration, she replies, with a soft laugh, "I cannot deny his wishes. Many thanks, van'chela--for the bow, of course."

Tarrant looks decidedly pleased, and shifts back to his former artful sprawl. "You're welcome, the least I could do and all." There's a contented pause before he adds, "So how goes the business of translation?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Quite well," Corian replies. "The work is interesting, in its way, and I am able to meet a variety of people." After a pause, she inquires, tone faintly amused, "Have you met that small excitable fellow, here for that ridiculous awards ceremony? I did not catch his name--I will have to have someone tell me. He is quite entertaining."

"The one that keeps leaping on things?" Tarrant brightens at the mention, "Robert someone or another, an absolute riot. I've met him, yes. He's staying at the Aerie Hotel, I ran into him the other day in the hall. I think he thought I was someone he knew."

Corian nods at that. "Quite, yes. I saw him on the edge of the fountain in the Quarter, and was quite worried that he'd fall into it." At your final statement, she blinks, looking a bit puzzled. "There are others who wear clothing similar to yours?"

Tarrant nods amiably, "It's actually common some places believe it or not, one of the places I lived as a child, although admittedly it's a bit of a backwards place."

Corian ahs softly, with a brief nod. "I suppose that should not surprise me, as I have witnessed garb that truly is more unusual than your own. But I have associated it with you for so long that it is odd to consider others wearing it." She gently straightens one sleeve, making sure it stays past her wrist, as it should. "Which place was that--that this clothing is common, that is."

"A very odd little planet, Jahwjuh, agrarian, painfully hot, and with an altogether twisted set of morals." Tarrant's drawl deepens just talking about it. "Formed by a bunch of colonists way back when from a small sub-group of Terran society who had very definite ideas about social order and being off by themselves."

Corian's slender fingers interlace and rest lightly on one knee. She nods, expression not betraying her amusement as she notes the deepening of the drawl. "You will forgive me if I do not try overly hard to visit this... Jawjuh, yes? Any one of those, I would not mind, or perhaps two, but all of them combined... I do not believe I would do well there." With a fond smile, she adds, "I have been invited to visit Zaelta again, to guest with the family of one of the diplomats here. Perhaps I shall, when the time is right."

"Oh, it has its own unique beauty as well. Mountains that manage to be grand and gentle all at once, an ocean as softly warm as oceans can be, and when the leaves change... I doubt you can find much to rival its beauty. It's dangerous, and offensive, and nasty, but it has a soft side nevertheless." Tarant nods, grinning thoughtfully, "Zaelta's -nice-...well, if I remember to get an allergy shot -first-..."

Corian nods thoughtfully at that. "It is a rare planet that holds no beauty, if you know where to look." At your final statement, she blinks. "You... oh, dear. Are you allergic to Zaeltans, Tarrant?"

Tarrant holds out a hand, tilting it from side to side. "Only a little, around here? It's no problem, seeing as I'm hardly likely to go stuffing my face into one, yes? But on Zaelta? It's fur -everywhere-... And if there is anything worse than a sneezing assassin, I have yet to witness it."

Corian presses a hand to her mouth, the better to avoid laughing at that particular image. "Poor Tarrant. That doesn't seem to be at all good, no." Of course, her eyes are mirthful, and her lips peek out from behind her hand. With a small shake of her head, she murmurs, "Allergic to -Zaeltans-..."

"Corian, I do believe, and correct me if I'm wrong, you are -laughing- at me." Tarrant sounds decidedly amused at that, "Laughing at a poor person allergic to overgrown cats, I tell you, what will this world come to..."

Of course, now that you've said it, Corian dissolves into quiet laughter. "I'm sorry, van'chela. I do not -wish- to laugh at you, but the phrase--stuffing your face into a Zaeltan? Considering the other outrageous things you have done, that would be something that I could see you doing, had you the desire to do so."

Tarrant considers this a moment, looking thoughtful, "What, you think one might object if I did so?" His words are all querying innocence, although they're belied by the glint in his eyes.

Your words elicit another quiet peal of laughter, like shaken silver. "I do not know many of the Zaeltans here very well, but I do believe they would object quite vociferously. Delegate Al-Saydun," she cautions, "Would likely warn you away with her claws."

Tarrant seems to be actually -considering- this now, "Maybe if I moved really -fast-..." Hos brows furrow and he shakes his head, "No, I think I will not risk having my hide perforated, I am certain I can think of some other way to be objectionable. Perhaps something involving balls of yarn..."

Corian offers softly, laughter ended but still amused, "Perhaps fish. They have quite the fondness for fish." Or catnip, though she's not going to say it.

Tarrant taps fingers lightly on his knee, "I shall have to give it proper thought. Annoying people is an art after all, and one that I find enjoyable with those in posessesion of larger egos than they need."

Corian regards you for a moment, expression rather amused. "I should not be encouraging you in this," she decides. "You will make life far too entertaining for those vid people, and then they will not leave."

Tarrant makes quite the disgusted face, "Yahgh, oh I best be on my manners til they leave. As amusing as some of them are, they make things unpredictable. Trying to get a shuttle back here this morning? I swear, I ended up in a closet."

Corian winces fractionally at that. "Oh, dear, that cannot have made for a pleasant trip. I have not yet heard when they will leave--it is quite odd, nobody seems to know. Despite the entertainment factor, I do hope it will be soon."

"It was a little tight, yes," Tarrant admits. "And the poor woman stuffed in to the seat next to me wanted my life story. I think I just gave her a lot of confused looks."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian's brows lift at that. "Now -that- particular story would likely entrance some of the frightening vid people, and then we'd be watching your story this time next year." At the sound of the chime, she takes out her watch to see just which hour it is, and then blinks. "Goodness. This was much more pleasant than work, but time has certainly slipped away from me. And if you have been traveling, you must be tired."

Tarrant glances at the time as well, by way of echo. He blinks at his watch several times, "That explains a great deal." He nods a bit ruefully, "As much as I hate to be rid of your company Corian, I must confess that I am very tired indeed. And the hour is exceedingly late, yes."

Corian gets gracefully to her feet, taking the giraffe as she does so. "Thank you for a pleasant evening," she says, with a warm smile.

Tarrant is not so graceful, but then grace is not his place, the flourish is. And he rises with a flourished bow, moving to see you to the door with formal politeness that is made informal by his amused expression. "It is I who must thank you, this was a fine evening indeed."

Corian returns the bow with one of her own, hand lightly over her heart. "We are quite gifted at politeness," she murmurs, amused. "Dream sweetly, van'chela. I look forward to seeing you again." And with that, she slips out the door.

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