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Fourth Floor Elevator Lounge
Eloquently appointed, and impeccably arranged, this elevator lounge serves as a
waiting area for the diplomatic level as well as for the lifts. Unlike the
lower floors, the marble here is a blinding white, veined lightly with silver
gray. Heavy rugs are strategically arranged and each depicts the symbol of
one of the Alliance sectors of space. The walls are paneled in a lighter
colored wood than the levels below, and sport brass fixtures. Tasteful potted
plants lurk in the corners. A receptionists desk and security station are set
up for those seeking information, but no traffic is impeded. A carefully
engraved listing is available of all the diplomats maintaining offices on
this floor.
<< To see a listing of offices maintained here, type +view listing >>
Contents:
Tarrant
Obvious exits:
Elevator
From the elevator, The doors slide shut, soundlessly.
Tarrant escorts you to your door, standing back, "Thank you for accompanying me this evening, I had a wonderful time. A great deal of fun."
Corian nods her agreement to that, a hint of a smile appearing behind those
obnoxiously pose-restricting leaves. "It was, yes, and many thanks for your
invitation." She pauses a beat, then inquires, "Would you like to come in for
a moment?"
Tarrant looks a bit sheepish at the question, tucking his hands in his pockets.
"I would rather, but then I enjoy spending time with you, part of my further
quest to torment you and all. But it is late, and you were up to a silly hour
last night and all..."
Corian considers for a moment, then inquires, "Just for a few moments, maybe?" Though, of course, she knows that 'just a few moments' will likely stretch somewhat longer than that. "I can offer you something to drink, at least--I find myself thirsty, after the dancing and the talking."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Tarrant looks as if for a moment he is going to attempt to object, once again on the grounds of politeness, but he simply can't make himself do it. Instead he nods, smiling, "A drink would be very much appreciated, actually."
Corian sounds rather pleased as she heads into her room. "Many thanks for
indulging me, van'chela."
You unlock the door and go into room Y8.
Room Y8
This poor room is very confused. Its owner has traveled extensively, as is
obvious from the disjointed decor. Oddly, though, it all seems to fit, and
the room certainly matches Corian's personality. The glossy wooden floor is
bare, with the exception of one small, circular braided rug. The dark blue
overstuffed couch seems new, and is sized to fit an Edreeni. The throw over
the couch, however, is faded, and seems to depict some sort of seascape. A
low table in front of the couch also seems fairly new. It holds a few books,
more paperwork, and a toy wind-up giraffe with a bit of ribbon around its
neck. The desk is a convenient little thing, looking like it can fold to a
size that may be carried. Of course, that means there are no drawers, but a
small portable file-drawer makes up for that. A rather large stack of
noveldisks rests on the desk, as well as paperwork in any of a number of
languages. The chair tucked under the desk is decidedly comfortable, and
looks like the seat of choice for Corian. A screen hides the sleeping area
from view, and has a brightly-colored piece of cloth tacked to it. A long
coat of dark gray skrorg hangs near the door.
Obvious exits:
Out
You come in from the Elevator Lounge.
Tarrant enters from the Elevator Lounge.
Tarrant has arrived.
Tarrant follows, looking a bit more sheepish at that, "I don't know that I'm indulging you, but rather myself. Being with other people is pleasant, most especially friends." The ox just gives him a look. What am I? Chopped liver?
Corian, now that she's actually inside her room, gently removes her gloves,
tucking Terrence's business card into a small tray on her desk. Then, she
unhoods herself, and, finally, takes off that mask. Her face is maybe a bit
pink--it's hot under the mask. Yeah. After a moment, she takes off the cloak
again, completing the transition from tree-lady to
skinny-lady-inna-tight-brown-dress. Absently fluffing her hair, she says,
with a smile, "Then we are indulging ourselves, in this, for I am most glad
to have you here, as well."
Tarrant pauses a positively measurable four paces inside the door, standing. He does however tug off the goofy hat. A hat person he may be, but nobody can be suave in a stocking cap. He plops it onto the ox. Of course it's too big, but hey. "Well, Honalee certainly can find no fault with this evening, yes?"
Corian considers that for a moment. "I suppose I shall see," she decides,
"Though I believe that I will wait until the morrow to comm her. I will be
somewhat interested to see what she has to say about the appearance of Mr.
Veruzac." With a shake of her head, she adds, "But do sit down, please,
van'chela. What may I get for you to drink?"
Tarrant pads to the couch agreeably, seating himself. It's neither the
excessively proper position of his first foray here, or the boneless sprawl
of the night before, but perhaps somewhere between. "Who is Mr. Veruzac, if I
may ask? Feel free to inform me it's none of my business." He pauses a beat,
"A glass of water would be greatly appreciated."
Corian moves to the kitchen unit to get a pair of glasses, filling them with water, and small yellow wedges. "It's better with lemon, after all," she says, offering you one of the glasses as she seats herself. "As for Mr. Veruzac... well, he is Riley's father, and Niko's, though I do not know that either of them are likely to acknowledge this. Do you know Niko?" she adds.
Tarrant accepts the glass of water with a nod of thanks, "Everything's better
with lemon." He sips the water a moment, thoughtful as he processes
information and names. "The fellow in armor?"
Corian inclines her head, adding, with a trace of amusement, "The one who
seemed a little disconcerted to learn who I was, yes. Well, the one who was
not my cousin." She shakes her head, adding perhaps a bit plaintively, "I
love the boys dearly, but I really wouldn't mind having a few -female-
relatives present." They, after all, could be trusted not to gawk at her in
the tree outfit. Well, no, maybe not. Tara did. Not that there's anything
wrong with that.
Tarrant grins at that, settling the glass to rest on his leg, held in place
with one hand, while the ox sits on the couch as well. "Perhaps you could
invite a couple, inform them the others need to be kept in line'n'all.
Familial duty to make them fear and cower?"
Corian considers that for a moment. After a sip of her water, she muses,
"Perhaps I could get Evvy to visit for a time." After a chuckle, she adds,
quiet delight crossing her face, "And Hona has all but said she will visit,
which will be wonderful."
"Evvy?" Tarrant echoes. He nods, "I would like to meet Honalee." There's a
pause and a sheepishly amused comment, "It is amazing to me, after having
known you for years, how little I realize I know."
Corian supplies, "Evvy is my sister, though technically we're not related at
all." She pauses a beat. "I know that did not make sense, van'chela, but my
family is somewhat complicated. I was reared an only child, but now have...
ten people, I believe, who may claim me as sibling." With a quiet chuckle,
she adds, "And Hona will, no doubt, wish to meet you." Oh, that sounds
ominous. Expression turning thoughtful, she nods. "We did not actually speak
much of family, in times past."
There's almost a twitch at the ominousness, and Tarrant attempts to cover it by
sipping his water. "Ten, goodness... Instant family, just add water?" He nods
to that, "There was after all little time, and business to discuss." He looks
faintly troubled at that last.
Corian notes the almost-twitch, as she's watching you, and gives you an inquiring look, silvery-blonde brows lifting. "Instant family, yes," she agrees, with a smile. "I have only met Niko and those who are family through Riley, but it is still an entertaining thought." She pauses for a moment, gaze flicking to her own water. "Business... yes, that did take up far too much time. Did you ever find out anything useful from the people downstairs?"
Tarrant resettles his glass, absently patting the ox briefly. See, he is a
loony. Either that or the plush is just really soft. "Nothing entirely
useful, although I'm really starting to wonder. Someone's trying to lock me
down, and they don't seem to care if it's dead or alive. Seems to someone,
I've outlived my usefulness. Not the whole department though, or I'd not be
here."
Corian goes rather still for a moment, then shakes her head slowly. "Someone," she says quietly. "Van'chela, do you have any idea -who-?"
Tarrant shakes his head slightly, "No, not even more than a wild guess at this
stage. Still, so far so good. And now with the department aware of the
fact..."
Corian nods once to that, smoothing the perfectly-straight skirt in a habitual gesture. "Perhaps you will be able to get some assistance, yes." Her expression manages to be both thoughtful and troubled at the same time, with maybe a hint of resolve tossed in for good measure. Kind of like croutons.
"I am hoping there will be some help from that quarter, yes, although I am not
yet depending on it." Tarrant sips again at his water, looking thoughtful
himself. "And if nothing else, there will be much less chance of walking into
a trap unwary, as I am warned." Of course -you- could be a trap, lulling him
into this sense of comfortble safety and actually be working for the bad
guys, but -he's- not going to think of that.
It's better with lemon-flavored poison? Yeah. That's it. Of course, as she's -not- working for the bad guys, that thought doesn't occur to Corian. "It is probably best that you not depend on them, no," she agrees quietly, though with a hint of regret. "It was one thing when the group was together, but now... well, you can count on me for what aid I can offer, van'chela."
"And I appreciate that, Corian, I wish I could explain how much." Tarrant
offers a wry smile, "Still, it is hopefully a small thing, easily ferreted
out and corrected now that the problem is known. There are good people who
work here I assume, I simply must learn which ones those are." He looks
decidedly sheepish, "It is very late."
You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.
Corian smiles faintly as she hears the chime. "It is," she agrees, "And there
is that which I must do in the morning." Her gaze flicks to one of the stacks
of paperwork, and she shakes her head. "But I am glad that we were able to
spend this time together, van'chela. Thank you."
The pause is barely perceptible, but Tarrant's reluctance to go makes standing an act of will. Gathering up the be-hatted ox he nods, "My thanks to you as well, this was a lot of fun. A pleasant evening to you, and sleep well."
Corian gets to her feet as well. "Dream sweetly, my friend," she says, with a
smile. "Perhaps the next time there is a masquerade to celebrate an odd
awards ceremony, you will be able to escort me once more." Her tone holds
just a bit of whimsy.
Tarrant's grin brightens a touch at that, "I look forward to the opportunity, should it so arise again. Although if next time we could skip the spastic little Italian man, you would not catch me complaining." And then he leaves, with another almost painful effort of will to do so.
Tarrant leaves the room.
Tarrant has left.
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