4/10/99

Your communit crackles to life and says "Corian?" Tarrant sounds perhaps a bit zoned, but increasingly alert as he speaks. "Hi, I just got in and got your message." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Good afternoon. Are you well? You sound somewhat tired." So does she, though not quite zoned." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "I spent a good deal of time with that file. I just went to pick up another. It has that side effect. You sound like you could use some rest." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "*quiet sigh* Van'chela, I have been resting for much of the day. If you had not said that Clara implied otherwise, I would now be out walking in the Java Quarter, for something to do. *pause* Did you find anything of use in that file?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Not a thing I'm afraid, hence the next file. I've been up to my ears in the thing. It's a ridiculous mess." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Is there anything that I can do to help? You sound, if I may say so, that you have done too much as it is." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "I'm certainly game for help at this stage, especially if it keeps you in the building where you're supposed to be." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Shall I come down there, then, or would you prefer to come up here?" into the communit.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Whichever you'd prefer. I'm fine with either option." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Then I think I will come down there, if you do not mind, as I am somewhat more mobile than you are just now." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "I'll be here then. I certainly can't argue with the issue of relative mobility." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I will be down in a few minutes, then." into the communit.

[Travelspam to second floor housing deleted.]

You knock on a door.

Tarrant calls, "Come in."

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.

Corian comes lightly into the room, after a hint of hesitation that disappears rather quickly. "Good evening," she says, with a smile. "I hope you've had a good day."

Tarrant is seated on one end of the couch, bad foot tucked up onto the coffee table and paperwork spread about. He offers an almost sleepy wave, grinning. "It's been an adventure certainly. Please, come in, have a seat. Sorry the place is kind of...well a closet."

Corian's lips quirk fractionally as she moves to sit on the other side of the couch, looking just a bit grateful to be doing so. Maybe her Java Quarter related comment was something of an exaggeration. "It is not something you can change, yes? There's no need for an apology."

"I have certainly attempted to do so. Perhaps I have become spoiled, but I would really like hot water, or even water at all sometimes." Tarrant shrugs with a grin, "I guess they assumed I wouldn't spend much time here." He glances at you with a bit of concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Corian's brows lift at the mention of hot water. Maybe she thought that the shower was somehow and miraculously hiding? "There is nothing wrong with me that a bit of rest will not fix," she reassures. "It just takes a few days to get used to the new implant, especially after so long without an update."

"Rest is a good thing," Tarrant agrees, regarding you a moment before turning so as to hide the worst of the fond look he cannot conceal. "Certainly everyone seems to say so."

Corian catches a bit of the look, and smiles at you. "Rest is good," she echoes, "But one can only handle so much of it. Though Xalin's visit this afternoon was nice," she adds, with a smile that, while tired, is fond.

"Ahh, Xalin, your young friend who was so thrilled with my existance?" Tarrant questions qith an amused smile. "Does he often come to visit?"

Corian laughs quietly at that, nodding. "That would be him, yes. And he does not come -often-, but as I am taking a brief hiatus from my duties as prena'ma to the younglings, he asked if he could visit."

"Prena'ma?" Tarrant echoes, the word probably sounding patently silly with his drawled accent.

Corian, to her credit, doesn't laugh at the patently silly word. "It is... storyteller, somewhat. It is how I keep them amused."

Tarrant ahhs quietly in understanding, nodding. "Throwing them into the briar patch, that variety of thing. It certainly sounds like fun for them."

Corian nods amiably. "They seem to find it so, though they have such varied interests that it is often necessary to compromise where the subject matter is concerned." She settles a bit more comfortably on the couch, shifting so that she can rest her head against its back and still see you.

"Goodness, I can imagine, the way kids are...and that many of them. The stories must get creative." Tarrant settles back as well, half a file abandoned in his lap.

Corian smiles at that. "Creative... yes, that's certainly a good word for it, as is convoluted. And I rarely see all of them at once, as there really are far too many for that. And, of course, the older ones are far too mature for stories." She sounds rather amused at that; clearly, she's relaying the kids' interpretation of their maturity, rather than her own.

"Kids, they spend years trying to grow up, then as adults keep trying to be kids again." Tarrant chuckles softly, "I do not profess to understand people."

Corian takes longer to get to sleep. Really. She doesn't just randomly crash. She's been looking tired all through this. Long story short, Corian sleeps.

Tarrant levers himself up from the couch, tugging down a blanket. Somehow managing his way back to the couch, he gently spreads the fluffy thing over you, tucking it in gently.

[Time passes.]

Tarrant is seated on the other end of the couch, one elbow against the arm of the couch, chin in that hand. In the other hand is a sheaf of paper covered in code. How he's accomplishing much reading in the dimmed light of this room is questionable, but as content as he appears, he probably doesn't much mind.

Corian sleeps. She sleeps for a while, actually, utterly motionless. Must've been tired. And then she wakes up, very slowly, registering that she is sleeping in a place where she shouldn't be sleeping. "Tarrant?" Oh, yeah, she sounds gone. Her next statement, however, is somewhat more coherent. "Van'chela, my apologies. I did not intend to do this."

Tarrant glances up from the papers at the sound of his name, giving you a rather fond smile. "No apologies are necessary, my friend, I certainly do not object. I have after all slept on your couch, turnabout is fair play. And if you slept, obviously you needed the rest."

Corian shifts upright somewhat, rubbing lightly at her eyes. "Did I sleep for very long? This is starting to get distressing; I awoke from a nap not long before I came down here."

"Not too terribly long," Tarrant replies, glancing at his now repaired watch, "It is around ten o'clock. And certainly sleep is a good thing, after all you have had a goodly number of long nights of late."

Corian stretches lightly. "That is true," she says. "But I thought I had caught up on the sleep." She peers at you for a moment, realizing you've got the file with the happy tiny print. "It wasn't necessary to turn down the light. Goodness, the print is small enough without having so little light."

Tarrant reaches back to wave at the panel on the wall, bringing the lights back up. Although they're still dim, this was, after all, really a closet. "I didn't want to disturb you, I was hoping you would sleep yourself out. I figured to settle things as best I could. Besides, as slowly as I can read this, the light wasn't too troublesome." Of course as he is saying this, he is rubbing at his eyes.

Corian notes the eyerubbing and suggests, "Maybe you should take a break. It's been several hours, yes?"

Tarrant nods, leaning forward and dropping the pages onto the table next to his be-battered foot. "Certainly long enough past time for a break. Have you eaten? Hungry at all?"

Corian considers for a moment or two, then shakes her head. "I am not especially hungry, but thank you for asking." She muffles a yawn, looking gradually more alert.

Tarrant nods amiably, tucking himself into the couch's corner at something of an angle so he can regard you easily, "If you're certain, it's the work of barely a moment to comm out for food after all. I would offer to cook, but unless you're partial to grilled cheese sandwiches over a blowtorch..." He grins in decided amusement, "Certainly a twist on the old trick with an iron I suppose."

Corian blinks, then chuckles quietly. "That would certainly be a neat trick. Perhaps in a bit. I believe I need to wake up a bit more, as it seems that getting food would involve deciding what type to get. And a decision requires thought, and I do not believe I am quite capable of that just yet."

Tarrant nods amiably, chuckling quietly, "There are times when thinking is over-rated anyhow." Concern does tinge his expression however as he considers you, "Maybe you could use some more sleep though? Or at least to rest someplace less scary than my couch?"

Corian shakes her head fractionally. "I slept much of the day," she says, with a smile. "At this rate, I will be unable to sleep tonight." Right, sure she won't. She still looks tired. "And your couch was not scary. I slept quite well upon it."

That concern does not leave Tarrant's expression, "Perhaps you should speak to Clara again. You look very worn out indeed."

Corian admits, with a faint smile, "I feel rather worn out, as well. It's most odd. If I do not feel better tomorrow, perhaps I will speak with her again. Though it has been some time, I do not recall feeling quite like this the last time I had my implant updated." She shakes her head, then. "I will see tomorrow. Did you learn anything of interest from the files?"

Not looking entirely satisfied, Tarrant does at least subside with his pestering. "Nothing so far, but I have hope still. It is of course entirely likely that the answer I want isn't in these files. They may have been altered."

Corian nods her agreement, settling herself a bit more comfortably on her section of the couch. "That is entirely possible, yes," she agrees with a sigh. "That would indeed be frustrating, to go through all the work for no result." And if she registers that you don't look entirely satisfied, she doesn't comment on it.

"Yeah, but a lot of what I do is eliminating the dead ends. Eventually with enough of them gone, I find the live one." Tarrant regards the pile of paperwork, "And this was the first place I could think of to look. I'm hoping at the least it'll give me an idea of where to look next."

Corian leans slightly to the side, so she can see the paperwork as well. "It is a logical place to look," she agrees quietly, voice holding a hint of her weariness. "Do they find it odd that you are requesting the files, though?"

"Unless they've broken the double-blinds on the computer system, they have no way of knowing what it is I'm pulling." Tarrant's frown deepens, "Corian, I think you should get some more sleep. And then contact Clara first thing in the morning."

Corian says quietly, "Van'chela, I am able to make these decisions for myself. If you wish me to leave, though, I will certainly do so." Her tone is as pleasant as ever, though still somewhat tired.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Ow, you might as well have hit him. Tarrant has had a bad couple of days, he just shakes his head. "Corian, of all things, I should hope you realize I do not wish you to go. I am never happier than in your presence, but if you are ill, that take precedence over everything else. Everything. And forgive me, but you come from obstinant stock, and I worry."

Corian smiles at your statement of your happiness, though the expression fades somewhat as you continue. "I do not believe I am ill," she says slowly. "I am merely tired." And gifted at understatement. "There is no need to worry, Tarrant, but if it will make you feel better, I will speak with Clara in the morning."

"I would appreciate that," And indeed, Tarrant does sound rather relieved. "Any gadgetry that sets about spontaneously attempting to get folks to start new religions just because it's feeling neglected probably needs to have an eye kept on it."

Corian laughs quietly at that, and shakes her head. "It will not feel neglected again, at least. I will most certainly take care to avoid that." She rubs lightly at her eyes, adding, "It certainly would have made for a fascinating holo, though."

"Still, best to leave the interesting holos to other folks, and skip out on the being unhappy part." Tarrant muses, shifting back to regard the print across from the couch. "I think we've done enough that'd make a good made for vid movie as it is."

Corian nods firmly to your first statement, and a bit less firmly to your second. "Yes," she agrees slowly. "We certainly have. Even since we came here, the trip to Triglant 3 would certainly qualify." She rests her head against the back of the couch once more, though her eyes remain open, focused on you.

Tarrant crosses his arms across his lower abdomen, half tucking his hands into either side of the battered denim jacket. Yes, he's wearing a denim jacket inside. Tarrant -always- has on a coat or jacket. They aren't glued on, he took his off to cover you in the tunnel after all, but he's never to be found without otherwise. "Yeah, they could even manage some entertaining special effects from that one. Although the bit about jumping into the hole in the pitch black wouldn't be very filmable."

Corian observes quietly, "The vid people would have found a way to film it, though--especially that exuberant Italian fellow. Robert something? I heard that he stood on chair during their odd little awards ceremony."

"Yeah, probably inserted the existance of a dramatic flashlight or something. Maybe red emergency lights. Vid people like red emergency lights." Tarrant muses, eyes still locked on the print, or perhaps a point just beyond it. "I wouldn't be surprised, he was a spazzy lit'lun. Still, they had that ball. That was two goats and a riot."

Corian murmurs a vague agreement to the emergency light comment, then smiles. "The ball was fun, yes, even if I wore that ridiculous costume." Her eyes close for a moment, then opens once more. "Perhaps they will come back, and have another silly party."

"It wasn't ridiculous...okay, perhaps for you it was, as it accomplished the opposite of your desire, attracting a great deal of attention. But that aside...I was not sure if my jaw was ever coming off the floor. You were stunningly beautiful indeed." Tarrant absently rotates the cover of one jacket button. "Still, another silly party'd be nice. Normally folks around here are too afraid to let their hair down, to live a little."

Corian blinks at 'stunningly beautiful', looking just a bit surprised. "I... thank you, van'chela. I am glad that you liked the costume, though you will have to forgive me if I do not wear it again." Lifting a hand to cover a yawn, she nods, adding, "And... yes, you are correct. Some of the people here take themselves far too seriously."

Tarrant glances sideways at the yawn, once again concerned, although he is trying to behave. "Perhaps we should head to your quarters? If you are not ready for bed, I could perhaps hang around and be a pest, but when you are ready, then you would not have so far to go to get to bed."

Corian considers for a moment, then inclines her head. "That would make sense, yes. But should you walk so far? Does your injury still pain you?"

"It is hardly 'so far'," Tarrant answers with a smile, reaching down to gather up his crutches. "Unless you have an objection to the elevator. I'll be fine."

Corian smiles as she starts to get to her feet. "I would actually prefer the elevator. Yours is a very sensible suggestion, as it seems that I can fall asleep without much warning. Thank you."

"Not that I mind you sleeping on my couch, it was kind of nice...It is kind of hard to think someone would fall asleep on my couch if they did not trust me. It's a new sensation." Tarrant clambers up onto one foot, stabilizing his weight onto the crutches with a bit of wobbling. He uses the couch to steady himself and then heads doorwards, half bowing as far as the wooden devices will allow to indicate you should precede him. "But still, your own bed would seem to be far more comfortable."

Corian walks somewhat slowly--because of your becrutched state, of course. At your words, however, she casts a quizzical smile towards you. "Of course I trust you, van'chela. My life has rested on your actions, in the past. How could I not trust you?" She turns back to the door, exiting slowly.

[Travelspam to Corian's quarters deleted.]

Tarrant makes his way in after you. Somebody really ought to take the sticks away from him, he's almost a force of destruction with them, certainly his ability to get around is erratic at best. "Department folks don't always trust each other though. Very rare. Professionally paranoid. Like that."

Corian moves to settle into her corner of the couch, absently tucking the teddy bear into her lap. "Too true," she agrees. "I suppose I was lucky to be brought into the group at the time that I was. I cannot say that I trusted all of them, though--and certainly not all to the same extent." She gestures to the couch, of course, so you won't keep standing there, and adds, "But you, of course, I trust."

Tarrant makes his way to the indicated seat. It's a good thing the couch is where it is, as he slips at the last moment, falling. He is however bred to be all but an eel and manages to twist swiftly, landing instead as if sitting rather than crashing or doing anything else terrible. Looking rather sheepish he simply nods, "Still, as I said, a new sensation, to be trusted."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian winces as you slip, reaching almost automatically towards you. "Goodness," she murmurs. "Van'chela, please do be careful." At your last statement, she smiles faintly. "You have had my trust for quite some time, Tarrant. Perhaps you did not realize it, but you did have it."

"I do not think either my breeding nor my training had -crutches- thought into account," Tarrant's tone is one of amused exasperation, "You would think they would design something a little less complicated for people with difficulty with locomotion. I much prefer the solution used when last this leg was damaged. At least then I could -walk-, even if I did look like a cyborg test film." At your comment he looks perhaps a bit sheepish, "I am sorry that I was blind to that fact."

Corian suggests lightly, burrowing a bit more comfortably into the couch, "But, as you still limped, perhaps that was not the best method to mend your leg?" With a quick smile, also rather sheepish, she says quietly, "There is no need to apologize, van'chela. I was blind to so much more."

"I don't know, considering what they had to work with, I consider myself lucky for all that." Tarrant tucks his bad leg over the other. He starts to say something to that last but instead comes up rather short. Yes, even Tarrant can be brought up wordless.

Corian regards you for a moment, expression rather wearily thoughtful. It is not until she glances towards the teddy bear, though, that she speaks, tone hesitant and a little light. "Well, it will not be much longer until you can walk without the crutches, yes?"

"True enough, not all that long in the grand scheme of things." Tarrant grins, looking wryly amused, "As long as I don't crush anybody's foot with one before then, everything should be fine."

Corian murmurs something vague about steel-toed boots, sounding somewhat amused. "I will hope that you avoid that, as it seems like it would distress the owner of the foot, not to mention make it difficult for you to keep your own footing."

Tarrant chuckles softly, settling comfortably against the back of the couch. "It certainly wouldn't make me any friends, no. I will attempt to avoid such a fate. And I've fallen enough lately, I'd rather not do it anymore."

Corian relaxes in the familiar surroundings, which is perhaps not the best thing to do. She closes her eyes, murmuring, "I would rather you not fall as well. You would have a greater chance for injury, then, and you have done more than enough harm to yourself of late." Her eyes open once more, taking a moment to focus.

Tarrant drops the volume of his reply, the soft drawl almost soothing in tone without being obviously intended to be be so. "I think I can manage to avoid that. But perhaps now is time for you to sleep?"

A look of frustration flickers across Corian's face, but she nods. "I believe I will not have a choice in the matter, before much longer," she says, with a rueful little smile. "I will be much happier when I am back to myself once more."

Tarrant leans down to scoop up his crutches once again, offering you a half-wistful smile. "Goodnight then, may your dreams bring you rest and clarity. And in the morning, Clara-ty, please do not forget." He sets about the complicated process of levering himself up and onto the crutches.

Corian's gaze follows you, though she remains on the couch with the teddy bear. "I will not forget, van'chela. Dream sweetly--and do be careful on the way back to your quarters."

"I will. Although there are a couple of people I wouldn't -mind- squishing..." Tarrant offers a sweeping bow, actually leaving the crutches long enough to do so before departing.

Tarrant leaves the room.

Tarrant has left.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "*somewhat wearily* Corian? Are you awake? It's Clara..." in Clara's voice.

You say "*long pause* Clara? Yes... I'm awake, somewhat. Is everything all right?" She almost sounds awake." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "*chuckles* You're stealing my lines, my friend. I'm supposed to be the one asking if -you're- all right. How're you feeling?" in Clara's voice.

You say "I... tired. Should I be this tired? *pause* Did Tarrant comm you?" into the communit.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Your communit crackles to life and says "As a matter of fact, Tarrant did not comm me." He wrote. But you didn't ask that. "And no, I can't think why you should be tired other than it's late. Would you like me to come up?" in Clara's voice.

You say "It can wait until the morning, yes? I'd think so. I told him I'd talk with you in the morning. After I get some sleep." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "*worried* Are you sure? Corian, I wouldn't mind. I just don't you to be ill if there's something I can do to help." in Clara's voice.

You say "Clara, it is late--I do not wish to bother you." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "It is terribly late, and I'm nowhere near sleep. It would be no bother, nor an inconvenience. Riley's not home yet. If you'd rather sleep and take care of it in the morning, though, I'll certainly understand." in Clara's voice.

You say "*long pause* At this rate, I will be sleeping soon whether I will it or no. But perhaps it would be good to determine if there is a problem, if you really do not mind..." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "I'll be there before you can say 'John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt'." in Clara's voice.

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 curled up on the couch, with a teddy bear and a fuzzy blanket. She really does seem rather out of it, though she's attempting to look alert. "Thank you for coming," she says, with a small smile. "It really is most disconcerting."

Clara lets herself in left handedly, the right arm hampered by a large medical bag slung over the shoulder and hand tucked into the pocket of her usual labcoat. Oddly enough, she wears this over sweats and a t-shirt with canvas tennis shoes, hair left loose and brushed free of singed bits. Crossing over to you with an air of quiet concern, she drops to her knees by the couch. "You don't look well, either, bless your heart. Is it just fatigue? Are you in any pain?"

Corian shakes her head. "There's no pain," she replies, with a small smile. "I'm just so tired. I was asleep on Tarrant's couch for hours--even after a nap this afternoon."

Clara fumbles singlehandedly in her bag for a scanner and snaps it on, smiling warmly. "I'm glad he's taking my advice and taking care of you then. Even if it was just letting you sleep. He's a very pleasant fellow," she observes, trying to get the scanner to work, then giving up and shifting it to her bandaged right hand. "I think I may know the problem, but I want to be sure."

Corian blinks, gaze drifting to your right hand, and the bandage there. "Have you been injured?" she inquires, with a short gesture towards the bandage. "And he's very pleasant, yes," she adds, with a bemused little smile. "He loves me, he said." That last sounds even more dazed than usual, mainly because the concept still stuns her. It's definitely proof that she's very tired; ordinarily, this is not something she'd likely mention.

"It's nothing," Clara assures, nodding at her hand although her attention is on the scanner. "I gathered that from the talk I had with him, although he never said as much. More just something I picked up on. It's an odd feeling, to discover someone loves you, isn't it?"

Corian nods slowly. "Odd," she agrees, elongating the vowel somewhat. Tired as she is, her usually accentless Standard is flavored by her Kashidian upbringing. "Most odd. It is not unpleasant, but somewhat disconcerting. Odd."

Clara is just enough beat for her own accent to be creeping in, although she smiles comfortingly while still scanning, then tugs out another, flatter scanner to hold over your side. "Odd...but satisfying? Almost...a protected, secure feeling?"

Corian offers another slow nod. "I like it, I think. I think. I need to think more, and talk with Hona, perhaps." She shakes her head, adding wearily, "She will be smug. She told me he loved me." She shifts the teddy bear somewhat, just in case the scanner needs to go where the toy was.

Clara's gaze flickers up from the readouts in another understanding smile as she inclines her head. "Thinking is vital, yes. No decision should be made quickly. Still, the comfort is there, the friendship is there. And Honalee is a mindreader, I suspect, sometimes," she adds teasingly.

Corian smiles at that, with a low chuckle. "That would not surprise me," she agrees, finally giving up and letting her eyes close. "And friendship is good. Tarrant is good. Even though..." But she shakes her head. She's would have to be a lot more unguarded to say -that-.

Clara regards you a moment, then decides not to ask, but rather nods as she peers back at her scanner. "Tarrant is a good man, yes. And you, mon ami, are perfectly fine. Your system is reacting to the reintroduction of an efficient implant. You'll likely be tired tomorrow, too, and when you are...sleep. Sleep as much as you like."

Corian smiles rather ruefully at that, eyes opening once more. "I do not have much of a choice, if tomorrow will be like today." She rubs at her eyes for a moment, then adds, "Thank you, Clara. I'm sorry for the trouble, especially as it was unnecessary." Of course, this is said slowly, and doesn't sound quite as coherent as it looks in print.

Clara snaps her scanner off and replaces both to the bag, then rests her unbandaged hand on your arm gently. "Do you need help getting to your bed? Or would you rather stay here on the couch?"

Oh, dear. A decision. This requires thought, and so takes some time. The gears are turning very slowly. Maybe the hamster is sleeping in the wheel. "I believe I can make it," Corian says slowly. "To the bed, that is."

Clara leaves her bag on the ground then and moves to assist carefully. "Let me help, at least. You're all but rather asleep just now." Her own accent has thickened, but she still seems to moving at full speed.

Corian gets carefully to her feet, wavering for a moment before gratefully accepting your assistance. "Thank you. I'm not quite asleep, but... very close, it seems."

Clara being smaller but toughened from a couple gazillion pushups over the years, easily moves in to let you lean on her, assisting around the screen and to the bed. "You're welcome, of course. Anything I can do to help, at all. Do you need anything else? Another blanket?"

Corian climbs under the blankets and curls up on one side facing you, making a surprisingly small shape under the blankets for someone that tall. "No, this was wonderful. Thank you. Thank you very much." She's in her bed now, though, with her pillow and her blankets, and it's obviously taking an effort of willpower to remain even awake enough to utter those statements.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara smoothes the blanket gently, tucking the bear in at your side as well, then straightens and starts to go. At the edge of the screen, she turns back and notes quietly, "There's no harm in the comfort of being held though a difficult night. And it needn't advance further than such...companionship. A random thought to sleep on. Goodnight, Corian." Without waiting for an answer, she vanishes around the screen, and the door can be heard shutting a moment later.

Clara leaves the room.

Clara has left.


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