4/11/99

Your communit crackles to life and says "Good afternoon, Corian. I received your message, time I have in plenty. Aside from a field trip to med bay at some point to see if they'll let me cede them these crutches, I have no demands on my time for today." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Good afternoon." Okay, she still sounds tired, but she's coherent, at least. "I don't suppose I could steal you for a bit of time this afternoon?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Of course you may, this afternoon and any other time you'd like. Just name the when and where." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I am not quite mobile just yet, I'm afraid, unless I wish to risk randomly falling asleep in unfamiliar places once more. So it would likely be easier for me, at least, for you to come here. As for the where... I will not be going to work today, and Xalin has been convinced to wait until tomorrow for another visit, so the remainder of my day is free." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "I can be there in just a few minutes if you'd like. Have you spoken to Clara yet?" in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Yes, she came up to see me last night. It was most odd that she chose that particular moment to comm me. And soon would be nice, yes." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "As long as you have gotten some help. Give me a few moments and I'll be there." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I look forward to it." into the communit.

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

Corian calls, "Come in."

Tarrant enters from the Elevator Lounge.

Tarrant has arrived.

Corian has managed to make it to the couch, as she's not -quite- about to receive company from bed. She's got the fuzzy blanket, of course, and the teddy bear, and a mug of tea. All's right with the world. Offering you a tired smile, she inquires, "How are you?"

Tarrant really needs to avoid breaking anything else required for locomotion, as he really does not seem to be doing any better with these crutches. In fact as rumpled as he appears, it's entirely likely his trip up here was not without adventure. "Fine, fine, and you? You look quite tired, yet."

Corian inclines her head, waving lightly towards the couch. "Please, do sit, van'chela." With a faint smile, she adds, "I think you an take it as a given, by the way, that you should feel free to sit in my quarters." She sips lightly at her tea, then, adding, "And Clara said that was to be expected. Apparently, this is the result of the implant, again."

Tarrant makes his way to the couch, sinking down into his normal position with care. With equal care he shifts down to tuck his crutches out of the way. "I'm sorry, where I was raised...well, it was less than polite to sit in the presence of a lady. Kind of a complicated situation. Especially with my poor confused family entered into the mix. We were hardly normal for the neighborhood." He ahhs quietly, nodding. "Pesky thing is obviously well and determined to make up for it being neglected."

Corian shakes her head. "There's no need to apologize," she says, with a warm smile. "It adds some continuity to our conversations, at least." She tucks the blanket a little more closely around herself, nodding rather ruefully to your final statement. "I will certainly remember the updates from now on, that is certain. This is not something that I would like to have happen again."

Tarrant nods to that, offering a half bemused smile. "It seems like a good idea to keep track of. I suppose it is terrible of me to be glad I need not worry about such things? There are so few people I am genetically compatible enough to be able to -have- children with by normal means, and as I am -related- to them all..." Not to mention one actually has to engage in certain activities to have kids, and Tarrant doesn't, outside of work related requirements, but he's not going to discuss -that- no matter how befuzzed he currently might be. "And I shall try to remember that certain manners aren't required, if you'll just poke at me, I'm sure I can be properly re-trained."

Corian, expression quite serious, leans closer and pokes lightly at your shoulder with the tip of one finger. "I will certainly remember to do so." She smiles, then, as she settles back against the corner of the couch. "You needn't change though, van'chela. If you would prefer that I invite you to sit, that is entirely feasible."

Tarrant flashes you a grin in return for the poke, obviously quite amused. "I do not suppose it is a great thing, either way. A minor point of movement."

Corian nods her agreement to that. "Yes. So perhaps if you do not sit on your own, I will invite you to do so, and that will be that. Most simple." She inquires, with a smile, "Have you had a good day, thus far?"

Tarrant nods amiably, looking perhaps a bit chagrined. "It's been an adventure. I had to attend a meeting downstairs. I -think- my boss will forgive me for the particular cruelty his toes endured. Still, not bad. And it's certainly looking up." His smile is rather bemused, adding, "And yours?"

Corian winces just a bit, casting a glance towards the crutches. "Well enough," she adds, looking back up with a smile. "I woke... perhaps an hour and a half ago? If nothing else, this has allowed me to catch up on those recent late nights."

Tarrant grimaces a bit in response to the wince, "Hence my desire to plead with Medbay about the possible abandonment of these weapons of mass destruction. I think I have more bruises than when I started." He nods, "Certainly a good thing, life has been quite chaotic for you of late."

Corian inquires curiously, with a brief gesture towards the crutches, "Did Clara say how long she thought you should continue to use them?" Your last statement, though, gets you a curious look. "It hasn't been that bad. It's been much worse, after all."

"She said four days initially, which is today. Hence why I am hoping to be rid of them." Of course that was before Tarrant re-broke the bone, but hey. "True enough, but sleep missed is still missed, even if you've missed more another time."

Corian, the teddy bear beneath the blanket briefly revealed as she adjusts the blanket once more, nods agreeably enough. "Perhaps she will let you go without them, then. You -will- listen to her, won't you, Tarrant? Rather than tending to your own health care, as you did in the past?" Pausing a beat, she muses, "It's rather odd, that she commed me last night. She said that you did not comm her, though. Perhaps it was some form of doctor-intuition."

Tarrant can't help but half-smile at the teddy bear, as he shift to tuck the bad foot beneath the good, finding the wall opposite of interest. "I will listen to her, yes. That last...I was not in the sanest of frames of mind. The cast got in my way." He looks exceptionally chagrined. "I suppose I should not admit to this, but while admittedly I did not comm her, I did send a message. I just wanted her to know you had the intent to come in in the morning. Perhaps then she would have been able to remind you had you erm...forgotten."

Corian's brows lift just a bit. "Tarrant," she says slowly. "I did say that I would see her, did I not? If I had neglected to see her this morning, it would have been because I was still asleep. I do appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself." Oh, she's definitely her mother's daughter, yup.

"I am sorry, although for the fact that my actions displeased you, and not for the actions themselves. In the time that I have known you, well, past actions would seem to contradict your stated intentions." Tarrant's tone is indeed apologetic, although there it is also firm.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian regards you for a long moment, then shakes her head slowly. "I appreciate the sentiment," she says quietly, resorting to politeness as she prefers that to expressing her irritation. "It was, however, unnecessary to disturb Clara so late."

"I honestly didn't mean to disturb her at that hour, hence why I sent a text message, and pointed out you intended to come in." No Tarrant does indeed sound unabashedly apologetic. "I had assumed she would be asleep, considering the lunatic time of day."

"I honestly didn't mean to disturb her at that hour, hence why I sent a text message, and pointed out you intended to come in." Now Tarrant does indeed sound unabashedly apologetic. "I had assumed she would be asleep, considering the lunatic time of day."

Corian shakes her head, now, turning her gaze to the fuzzy blanket. She likes the fuzzy blanket. -It- doesn't randomly sic doctors on her. "Perhaps next time you can give me the option to do as I said I would do."

"That was the intent of my message. I am sorry if it was misinterpreted." Tarrant's words are carefully formal of tone, his accent barely a faint hint behind them.

Corian replies quietly, with equal formality, "I accept your apology, and I will try to take your actions in the spirit in which they were intended." There is a brief, rather awkward silence, and then she inquires, "Can I offer you something to drink?" Yup, when in doubt, offer food or beverages.

Tarrant shakes his head amiably, crossing his arms lightly over his chest. "No, but I appreciate the offer. You look terribly comfortable down there, and I know I'm comfortable over here, so just sitting and shmoozing seems like a terribly good idea. Your couch is a kind one."

Corian manages a smile at that. "It is that, yes. I interviewed several couches before I found one that had the requisite kindness."

Tarrant pats absently at the couch, grinning. "I'm glad you were so thorough, then. I must admit, if it were not so convenient, I would abandon my place for some other, so that I could interview couches and the like. Still, I would be hard pressed indeed to abandon the convenience. This is really an odd situation, to have everything so condensed into one area."

Corian nods her agreement, curling up a bit more tightly so that she's taking up less room on the couch, and, thus, is able to give more room to you. (Not that she was really taking up much room, but, hey, it's a pose.) "It is that, yes. I have lived in a similar setup, though I do not believe that I liked it quite so well as I do here."

"Kashid is rather enclosed as well, is it not? Something of a larger scale than this however, and of course more diverse." Tarrant doesn't really need the space, as he is, as always, attempting to be as polite as possible and sit in a polite fashion. This is somewhat altered by his slightly odd crossed foot position, but still, close enough for goverment work.

Corian inclines her head. "Kashid is," she agrees. "Though it has been so long since I have actually lived there, sometimes it is easy to forget what it was like." She shakes her head. "Perhaps I will be able to pay a visit there soon, and refresh my memory."

"Getting a chance to go home is always good," Tarrant muses quietly. "To see family, renew old ties, that variety of thing. Certainly it's something to find time for once in a while." He grins brightly, "If for no other reason than to serve as a reminder why one chooses to live elsewhere."

Corian chuckles very quietly at that. "Ah, that is too true, van'chela. I love my family very dearly, but some of them are somewhat more easily loved from a distance."

Tarrant nods with an amused grin, "I can say the same, although terming some of them family becomes somewhat arguable. Still, close enough to count, it is an odd situation. I do enjoy getting to see my parents and Sarah's family however, even if I do get pestered endlessly."

Corian inquires, "Sarah is your sister, yes? And she has children?" With a quick smile, she adds, "And why do they pester you--for staying so long away? That is generally one of my family's complaints."

Tarrant nods to both of the first questions, "Sarah, yes, my little sister. Although I suppose calling her little at this age is probably innapropriate. She has four children, and is contemplating a fifth." There's another rueful nod, "That I am so often gone, that I do not settle down at home, that I should get a hair cut, or grow it longer, and do I eat enough? They are simply parents, and Sarah is around often enough to have learned how to avoid such things, so I become an easy target. They mean nothing by these things, so I have learned to simply put up with it."

Corian nods at the litany of parental complaints, her amused smile suggesting that she has heard much of the same. "Younger siblings are always 'little', though, I think, no matter what their age or size." With another nod, she adds, "I'm sure she appreciates your visits, then--of course for the pleasure of your company, but for the diversion of parental attentions." And that seems kind of convoluted. Maybe she's getting tired again. Maybe her thoughts are getting interrupted, as her player's are--though people named Dave are likely not interrupting Corian.

"She says she appreciates such visits, although to be honest I am not certain if I believe her. Her husband most -assuredly- does not, as I always bring gifts for my nieces and nephews." Tarrant is -trying- to look innocent, but in fact looks rather devious. "These are oft times things that the kids appreciate, but the adults do not."

Corian tsks very quietly at that, really trying to look stern, but managing that just about as well as you're managing innocence. "Have you purchased those wonderful guns for them?" she inquires. "They really are fun, and they don't cause loud noises or much of a mess."

Tarrant nods cheerfully, running a hand through his own hair and setting it to dissaray. "I sent a couple of sets home, yeah. I've learned that if I mail the gifts, Sarah can't hit me with things. Although I do then miss out on the fun part of getting to play with the kids."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian nods to that. She doesn't reach to un-disarray your hair, though she's sorely tempted, instead tucking her hands under the blanket, the better to push away temptation. Besides, the bear is there, and that's fun. "That is part of the joy of gift-giving, yes," she agrees. "I would not mind another trip to the toy store," she adds, perhaps a bit tentatively. "If that's something you'd like to do."

Tarrant does not of course realize the cruelty of mussed hair temptation, and in fact probably doesn't realize how overall mussed he appears, in battered and disarrayed clothing and rumpled hair. "It certainly gives me an excuse to get down on the floor and play, and hence scandalize my poor mother and her friends." He perks up rather decidedly, "When we are both more mobile we'll have to venture down that way again. And I can show you the tiny bookstore with the carousel horses if you have not yet discovered it."

Corian brightens at that. "I have not, no--carousel horses? Are they the miniature ones, that some folks collect? And bookstores are always to be visited. Now I'm torn--should I make a little more effort, and explore the Quarter, or should I just let you do all the work and show me the good places." Her tone is just a bit amused, as if she's poking fun at herself.

"They have some smaller ones I believe, but also a number of full sized ones, those being the ones that fascinated me greatly. They are part of a project to restore the carousel horses at the amusement park outside of town." Tarrant grins in wry amusement, "I think one could explore the Quarter for a lifetime and never find everything. Or perhaps we could explore it together."

Corian blinks at that. "There is an amusement park outside of town?" Yes, she lives in a box, why? At your last comment, she smiles thoughtfully. "Yes... together, that sounds like it would be fun. It is wonderful to discover a place that one likes, but it seems that it would be better if there were someone there to share that."

Tarrant nods amiably, "A rather impressive one, on the side of one of the lakes. Lots of rather drastic looking roller coasters and all. I've been past it once." He actually turns from his exceptionally proper position to regard you more fully, half smiling absently. "It does seem as if it would be more entertaining. Also someone to make all the snide comments to. Walking in the Quarter often inspires such."

Corian looks very pleased at the mention of the park's contents. "Roller coasters? Really? Van'chela, they are going to restore this? That would be most pleasant, and another place to explore." With a quiet chuckle, she adds, "And I have noticed that, yes. I would be most pleased to share the snide comments, and I will try to refrain from using my elbows too often."

"I think the roller coasters already function. At least I assume so, otherwise the excessive screaming coming from said park probably should elicit some suspicion from the local authorities. It is simply the carousel that is in need of rescuing." Funny, Tarrant does not seem -quite- as thrilled about roller coasters, although neither is he ambivilent. "I can stand a few elbowings. I am after all quite accustomed to that reaction.'

Oh, but Corian's far too busy getting enthusiastic about the roller coasters to notice your lack of bethrilledment. "They're functioning? Oh, I must certainly visit this place. Roller coasters are to be treasured. It has been far too long since I have been able to ride one." With a short chuckle, she adds, "And getting used to being elbowed is all well and good, but I should still attempt to refrain. It is hardly polite."

Tarrant says, "Corian, dear friend, I thought -I- was the lunatic on this couch," Tarrant says in decided amusement, "Isn't your life exciting enough without being hurled about in a small steel car?" He grins amiably, "You don't have to be polite with -me- of all people.""

Corian blinks at you for a moment, clearly a bit surprised. "You do not enjoy roller coasters, van'chela? I would think that you, of all people, would do so." Shaking her head at your last statement, she adds, "You seem to find it necessary to be polite, van'chela, so I should do the same."

"To be honest, I have never ridden one. Also to be honest, I have never really had the opportunity to do so." Tarrant shakes his head, "Please, don't worry about me. I'm not offended by things, I was just brought up to a particular set of ways things were done. We travelled so much when I was young, and were always outsiders and all, formality was a ... way of being acceptable I suppose."

Corian peers at you, brows lifted somewhat. "You have not ridden a rollercoaster? Tarrant, this is something that we must remedy. You should not go through life without having ridden a rollercoaster." With a quick smile for your latter statements, she adds, "Formality has its place, of course, in Kashid somewhat more than many other places I've seen. Why don't we both do what comes naturally, perhaps?"

"Seems fair enough to me, fair enough." Tarrant does not seem so sure about roller coasters however. "I am somewhat mystified by such machines," he murmurs absently. "I mean, if folks are that scared, why do they get on them -again-?"

Corian observes quietly, with a quick smile, "Not everyone has lived the sort of life that we have--though mine is, obviously, to a much lesser extent. It is... the semblance of danger, while being safe. It is a thrill." With a low laugh, she adds, "It is -fun-."

"If you say so," Tarrant's tone is such that he is willing to accept your words out of trust in you, but he is certainly still wary of the idea. "I suppose it can be no worse than the transition into hyper."

Corian, looking amused, leans over to rest a hand on your arm. "Van'chela, just try it once. If you do not enjoy it, then you need never do it again. But I think that you will enjoy it--you just need to be careful that you use the proper seating. Riding a rollercoaster is somewhat impossible when one is using the Stilvani seating, for example."

Tarrant does -not- sigh, he does not, he isn't gonna... Oh but you've got a hand on his arm again, and while he may be managing not to sigh in a particularly lovesick fashion, he does look rather absently, goofily, content. He's hardly going to object to the suggestion -now-. "I will try it, certainly." He laughs quietly, "I would be squished I think."

Corian notes your expression, and her own is a rather odd mixture of fondness and puzzlement. She's not Kathlyn, though; she doesn't try the on-again-off-again hand thing to see what you do. She does glance at her hand, then back to you. "Squished, most certainly, and it would be decidedly unpleasant. Perhaps I will be able to find some information on these coasters," she says thoughtfully, more to herself, "And I will be able to determine which one you should try. I do hope they have the floorless sort; those are most entertaining."

Tarrant is also not Shan, he would probably become excessively confused by the on again off again thing. He is regarding the coffee table, or at least that general space, and does not notice the look. "Floorless?" He questions, sounding perhaps a bit apprehensive. "I'm sure the information would be in the computer. It seems quite the tourist locale."

Corian nods enthusiastically. "Floorless. It involves very little enclosure, merely a seat and a harness for each person. It is much more entertaining in that manner." She does lift her hand, now, and it's your fault, as you suggested the computer. She moves--carefully--to her desk, sitting down rather quickly at the chair there. "We shall see, I suppose."

Awww, the hand went away. Tarrant's pleased look fades, although he does not look -unpleased-, just now devoid of your presence. "Hopefully it will possess the needed information. Although once again, such a trip would have to wait until you are better."

Corian glances over with a quizzical smile. "Of course, van'chela--though I am not ill, merely unaccustomed to the presence of the implant after so long."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Still," Tarrant notes as he carefully shifts his battered ankle, looking for a better place for it. "You'd hardly want to go hiking all over such a park when you are less than able to enjoy it."

Corian nods agreeably enough to that. "I will not go until I am able, of course, Tarrant--and until you are able, as well." Her computer chimes at her--poor machine, it's been so neglected--and she turns back to it.

"I must admit, I would like to go, and it would be somewhat difficult to do on crutches, as I would likely fall on some small child." Tarrant chuckles in quiet rue, glancing briefly at the time before shifting so he may watch you at the machine. "I think your computer is jealous of everyone."

Corian nods once more, though her gaze is on the terminal. She taps at a few keys, and a few pages of printout emerge from the wall. Yup, the fourth floor is the place to be. She takes the precaution of shutting down the protesting machine before she says, "I need to alter his personality files. He's really gotten somewhat irritating, though he still serves his purpose well enough."

"He?" Tarrant questions, sounding amused. "Ahh, see -that- explains it."

Corian takes up the papers and gets to her feet, moving back to the couch. She seats herself once more with a quiet sigh, and a brief noise of frustration for her difficulties. "What explains what?" she inquires, with a curious smile. "And the machine is genderless, of course, but his personality is male. His name," she adds, with a quick smile, "is Mycroft. It's not quite appropriate, but it amuses me."

Tarrant watches you, although he once again settles in a fashion so as not to be obvious about doing so. "See, he's like any other male would be, if he got to spend so much time with so lovely a lady...jealous of interlopers." He offers a quick smile, "It's a good name."

Corian finally takes the teddy bear from under the blanket, settling it against her side. With a murmured thankyou for the praise, she observes, "I suppose that makes sense, though he doesn't seem especially picky about his timing." And she even manages not to blush at being called lovely, though her slight headshake and faint smile suggests that she really doesn't see herself as such.

Tarrant cannot help but reach over, giving the teddy bear half a head pat and a brief ear scratch, the gesture of a man familiar with small animals and stuffed toys. He straightens back up, bringing his hand back. "He's a computer, he doesn't need to be picky. He knows you have to put up with him."

Corian smiles at your gesture, then casts a thoughtful look at the machine. "Or I could make him less annoying--though, to be honest, I do not know that I want to do that. I've grown accustomed to his mannerisms, by now."

"Sometimes it's better to have an annoying machine with personality, than an un-annoying one with none. They at least liven up the situation a bit." Tarrant settles back against the couch, once again absently twisting the cover of a button on his denim coat. "Especially if one must work with them regularly."

Corian nods her agreement to that, with a quick smile. "And his commentary on my work is rather entertaining," she muses. "It adds humor to the day."

"Commentary? This sounds a lot more impressive than the paperclip that won't die," Tarrant replies with a grin.

Corian nods, looking rather amused. "He's a very highly-developed personality. If I'm not careful, though, he's going to learn to turn himself on, and -then- where will I be?"

"With a dead battery? That'd learn him one," Tarrant replies, chuckling softly.

Corian echoes the chuckle, leaning back against the back of the couch. "But then when the battery charged again, he'd be furious." She pauses a beat, then inquires, "Are you hungry, van'chela? It is near the time for eating, after all."

Tarrant glances at his watch briefly, "I suppose that depends," he replies. "On whether or not you intend to stand up if I say yes. If so, nope, I'm not."

Corian's sigh is very quiet, but still present. "Tarrant, I am perfect capable of walking. I'm -not- ill. I'm just tired. It is a very short distance to the kitchen area. I'm sure I can manage it."

"But wouldn't it be easier if we called out? Or I could cook? You're tired, you should relax. It's nice to. Relaxing is good." Tarrant is perhaps less forceful than he could be under other circumstances, almost distracted.

Corian shakes her head. "No offense, van'chela, but I would prefer that you stay out of my kitchen until you are able to get around without crutches. I like its contents in one piece." She rubs at her eyes for a moment, inquiring lightly, "Why should we call out for food when I -have- some, very close and very easily warmed?"

There is the issue of the crutches, yes. Tarrant casts them another exasperated look, absently rubbing at his upper arm. "I am sorry, Corian, it is just that I worry."

Corian's manner is reasonableness itself. "There is no need to apologize, Tarrant, but there is also no need to worry. Clara said that I was not ill. I am merely tired."

"Did she have any suggestions?" Tarrant questions, settling half into the corner of the couch, abandoning his all so polite position.

Corian shakes her head. "She said only to sleep when I felt like doing so, that I should be better tomorrow."

Tarrant ahhs softly, half twisting sideways to rest his head against the back of the couch and to regard you. "This is a good thing indeed."

Corian nods her agreement to that. "And I have been doing that," she says, with a smile. "I have been sleeping for much of the day. Now," she adds. "If I go to the kitchen, will you worry overmuch?"

Tarrant tilts his head in something of a headshake, "No, I suppose I can restrain myself." He looks rather chagrined indeed. "I am sorry, a great deal of my annoyingness at the moment is frustration in that I cannot be more help."

Corian gets to her feet, then, resting a hand lightly on your shoulder. "You'll be back to yourself soon enough, though. And then, by all means, you can cook for me." She heads into the kitchen area, inquiring, "Do you have a preference as far as food is concerned?"

Tarrant lifts his head from the couch's back, watching you in a bemusedly absent fashion. "Whatever's simplest would be my vote. Do you have a blow torch? We could do grilled cheese sandwiches."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian laughs at that, with a shake of her head. "Unfortunately, that's not an option. Perhaps we can try that when you cook." The sounds of Corian rummaging in the freezer unit, then putting in food to be heated. "Simple is good, though, yes--lasagna it is. What would you like to drink?"

"A glass of water would be a muchly appreciated thing." Tarrant continues to watch you, half absently, half wistfully. He's perhaps a little out of it.

Corian comes back to the couch section of the room, a glass of water in each hand. "There you go, then," she says, leaning lightly against the couch as she puts down her glass and offers you the other. "It should be ready soon."

Tarrant accepts the glass of water with a nod of thanks, taking a sip before settling it to the table before him. "I appreciate it." He settles back into the couch again. "I am amazed though that you have time to cook to begin with."

Corian, half-listening for the telltale chime, says, "It helps that I do not cook often--I simply make very large quantities, when I do, then freeze it for later consumption. That makes dining much simpler, the rest of the time." And then, ping, there's the chime, and she moves back to the kitchen area, albeit a bit more slowly than last time.

Tarrant's eyes track you into the kitchen, straightening up just a bit from his half slump. "A freezer is indeed handy, yet again something the closet of evil lacks."

With occasional pauses as she deals with the food, Corian observes, "It really doesn't seem like a comfortable living environment, no, though I've seen worse. Perhaps you can come up with something portable." She comes back with a plate in each hand--lasagna, garlic bread, that sort of thing--and seats herself fairly quickly, with a small smile. Yes, she's stubborn. "There you go," she says, putting down the plates and silverware and such.

And of course, despite his comment to the contrary, Tarrant is obviously worried, although he does not comment. Instead he accepts his plate with a nod, "Thank you Corian, it looks wonderful. I appreciate it." In fact he must be quite hungry indeed from the all but glazed look he gets on his face as he takes a bite. "Ah well, I can always continue the war about getting it changed around."

Corian, as you don't actually express your worry, is content to ignore it. She saw Clara, Clara said she's fine. So there. After a few moments of sitting, she takes up her own plate, eating somewhat more slowly. "You're most welcome," she says, with a smile. "And I do think you should make the attempt, if you do not think it will prove futile."

Tarrant is really doomed indeed, insamuch that he's fallen in love with an evil and stubborn woman. He eats with slow care, but only because he's hyper aware of his manners. Meals have been somewhat intermittant of late. "I will continue to do so, yeah. I'm likely to be ignored, certainly I am without seniority or pull here. But I am not prone to giving up."

Corian isn't evil. Really! She's not even desced that way. Stubborn, however, is definitely the case. At your final statement, her lips quirk in amusement, and she pauses in her own rather slow eating to say, "You know, Tarrant, I have noticed that."

Tarrant looks almost sheepish, but definately amused. "Ah, but in my case it's genetic, intentionally bred in, and not at all my fault. Your own tenacity is your own fault."

Corian looks over at that, half surprised, two-thirds amused. Math's not her strong point. "How do you know that?" she inquires. She pauses a beat, realizing that there are two "that"s which could be known. "It isn't intentional as far as I am concerned, but it could be genetic nonetheless."

Tarrant chuckles quietly, "Okay, now admittedly, I could be wrong, but I'm betting yours is more upbringing than genetics. I could be off mind, but still, it'd be where I'd put my money."

Corian nods agreeably enough to that. "Oh, I'd say that you're correct, in that. Some of my older relatives encouraged it, possibly as revenge on my poor parents." She pauses a moment, then inquires, "But you know of a certainty that it is genetic, for you?"

Tarrant chuckles quietly, snagging a bite of lasagna, "The old curse, may you have kids just like you." He nods amiably, "Yeah, frighteningly enough just about all my genetic code's tailored. Or more specifically, both my parents were gengineered, hence I ended up pretty much the same."

Corian nods thoughtfully to that. "And they were made stubborn intentionally?" she queries. "That's quite interesting, that such traits can be genetically determined." She continues to eat, but rather slowly. Eventually, she puts down her fork, taking up her garlic bread and nibbling absently on it.

Tarrant finishes off his food, settling the plate to one side and taking up the glass of water. "Stubborn, heat resistant, longevity, a host of such things. The morality of such things, especially under the circumstances is quite debatable, but neither Mom nor Dad will discuss that." He shrugs, "I do not profess to understand their situation."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian's brows lift fractionally, though she doesn't comment as she puts the garlic bread along with the half-eaten meal. "Of course not," she murmurs. She's silent for a moment, expression thoughtful, then inquires, with a gesture to your plate and a shocking abuse of commas, "Would you like some more?"

Tarrant shakes his head amiably, sipping from his water. He probably ought to be drinking caffiene instead, considering the way he's rambling. "No, but I appreciate it. It was, as always, wonderful lasagna."

Corian smiles at the praise, settling herself a bit more comfortably. "Thank you. All that we've eaten is likely from the same batch; it turned out rather well, I thought, so I'm glad to have it confirmed."

Tarrant settles back as well, the glass held absently in one hand as Tarrant uses the index finger of his other hand to trace the pattern on it. "It is indeed wonderful. I am amazed you manage to get folks out of your place, considering."

Corian's lips quirk just a bit. "Generally they seem to decide that I need to sleep, or they need to work, or something else equally silly. Though," she adds, "I have promised to make some lasagna for Jay, the next time I cook."

Tarrant looks rather sheepish at that first, leaning forward to settle the glass on the table as well. "He has good taste then. Although I should have known that when I came across him trying to tackle a tree."

Corian has other associations with trees, so your comment gets a brief, startled pause before she realizes just what you mean. "Oh. -Oh-, an actual tree, yes. I suppose he was making up for the trees he was unable to climb as a child, or some such.

Corian has other associations with trees, so your comment gets a brief, startled pause before she realizes just what you mean. "Oh. -Oh-, an actual tree, yes. I suppose he was making up for the trees he was unable to climb as a child, or some such." She takes up her water, for a brief sip, then curls up around the teddy bear, apparently tired enough to relax. "You didn't mean literal -tackling-, did you, van'chela? That seems like it might cause injury."

Tarrant blinks several times and then laughs quietly, understanding the point of confusion. "Knowing Master Jay, I would not have been surprised to see him trying the other variety." Oh dear, perhaps that was innapropriate, but Tarrant is not as with it as he could be. "No, not literal, although he wasn't having much success with the more traditional method either. He was trying to find something caught in a tree."

Corian blinks for a moment, then dissolves into quiet laughter, though she probably should be shocked at the statement about her cousin. "This was... rescuing some form of toy, yes? I believe this was the evening that he and I dined together; he mentioned the incident. Perhaps he needs a bit more practice... tree-climbing."

Tarrant nods absently, shifting back comfortably, but in such a fashion as to still be polite. "Yeah, I suppose he hasn't had much opportunity to climb treeage." He tucks his arms crossed again. "That was a pleasant day. It had been ages indeed since I'd gotten a chance to climb a proper tree."

Corian doesn't say anything about climbing improper trees. She's still got those associations. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I do hope that you'll hold off on more tree-climbing for a bit, though. Somehow, I think that the tree would not appreciate the crutches."

"Climbing trees with busted footage is certainly not a good thing." Tarrant glances down at the crutches again, "I don't think -anybody- appreciates the crutches. I kid you not, I'm a weapon of mass destruction."

Corian considers for a moment, with a faint smile. "Well, yes," she says slowly. She doesn't point out that you're pretty close to that without the crutches, if not there already. "But you'll be rid of them soon, yes?" She blinks. "You intended to speak with Clara about that today, did you not?"

Tarrant glances briefly at his watch, "That was the idea, yeah. But I think it's a bit late for that, now. Still, I'd rather pester you than the folks in Medbay, any day." Yeah, but see, this is -inadvertant- destruction. He prefers vertant.

Corian smiles at that. "I'm glad. I'm quite a lot less likely to have a regenerator, for one, which, it seems, would make me more pleasant company." She chuckles very quietly, then adds, "Will you try to see her tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, or maybe if there's someone else on duty later tonight. I don't guess this'd be that involved or anything." Tarrant tilts the be-blackened ankle to regard it absently. "And even if you -did- have a regenerator you'd be more fun to hang around. -You- remember my name for example."

Corian blinks at that, though she nods at the mention of 'later'. "I'm glad you consider me better company, but--does Clara forget your name?"

"She seems to think my name is Mr. Czolgosz, or sir." Tarrant looks more than a little amused, "Is 'Tarrant' that hard to say for goodness sake?"

Corian blinks at that, and shakes her head as she shifts into a slightly more comfortable position. "Of course it isn't, van'chela." Even though she's come up with several different ways to say it. "How odd. I thought I'd convinced her that you do prefer 'Tarrant' to the other forms of address."

"My relative age seems to be the point of difficulty." Tarrant shrugs lightly, "I don't guess it'd help to point out that if my parents can be considered a benchmark, I'm effectively eight? Maybe nine?" He grins in devious amusement, "I wonder if they'd let me in the kids section at the theater."

Corian shakes her head, expression decidedly amused. "Unless you change your legal age to eight, I find it unlikely--and even then, it would probably be a bit of a stretch. Jay would find it amusing, however." She curls up a bit more on the couch, apparently at ease.

"I suggested to Clara that I could have it changed to ten, she did not seem to think this would be an effective idea," Tarrant grins absently, comfortably tucked into the couch's other corner. "Still, maybe if I wore a name tag."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian nods thoughtfully, looking a bit entertained by the prospect. "One of those 'Hello, my name is...' tags, yes. It would be amusing. I really thought that she'd gotten the idea, though." She shakes her head. "I suppose there is no convincing some people. She's still a very nice person, though. I'm quite fond of her."

"She is rather nice," Tarrant muses quietly, "Exceptionally helpful. Gives good advice and all that."

Corian casts a brief sidelong look at you. "Mmmm. Yes," she agrees, with just the smallest hint of a blush. "She does." She shakes her head fractionally. "Very helpful," she repeats quickly.

Tarrant tucks his hands absently in his pockets, frowning slightly. The source of the frown is extracted, a crumpled piece of paper. He ahhs softly and tucks it back, "As I am reminded. The second file was no more help than the first. I am about half-way through a third." There's another bemused nod. "Yeah, a very helpful woman. And despite her inability to recall my name, she seems to have a great deal of sense."

Corian nods once more to the description of Clara, with a murmured agreement. "I still would like to help you with that, van'chela, if I may," she offers. "Do you know how many files there are yet to search?"

"It depends on if I find what I'm loking for as to how many I have left," Tarrant answers, eyes edging ever so slowly shut. "I'm all right doing them, I just settle down and lock into it and it gets done."

Corian suggests very quietly, "Perhaps you should go get some sleep, Tarrant. You look tired. It would not surprise me to learn that you have been doing too much."

Tarrant looks exceptionally sheepish, straightening up and suddenly appearing quite alert. "I am fine, and I am not doing more than the situation demands. If it is more than perhaps would be good normally, well, it is a matter of survival in this case." There's a pause, "Unless you're tired, I can leave you to your rest..."

Corian considers that for a long moment--say that she's tired, in which case you might go rest, or say that she isn't, and have you remain here. It's a dilemma, so, "Would you rest as well, if I did?" She likes bargaining, yup.

"I cannot make that promise my friend," Tarrant says quietly, "I am in a situation of some difficulty. There are people that would really rather have me dead, and I would rather skip that bit."

Corian regards you for a long moment, the seriousness in her gray eyes poorly masking her fear. "I much prefer you alive, yes," she agrees quietly. "So should you be here, if that is the case? I... I treasure your company, of course, but if there is something else you should be doing..."

"I would rather be here, it is a place where as a rule the chaos does not seem to reach." See, while it's not expressly true, Tarrant feels safe here. "If I had but a clue where to look..."

Corian shifts a bit closer to you, though she's still wrapped in her blanket. Concern evident in her eyes, she says quietly, "I wish there was something I could do to help, van'chela. But you know the Department far better than I--there really is not an option that I can think of."

"I think my best bet is going to be to get off these crutches and cleared for field work," Tarrant taps the wooden crutches lightly with a toe. "Then I have to wait for another trap to be laid."

Corian's sharp inhalation is quiet, but audible for all that. "Tarrant... is that really necessary? These last times, you were injured. Perhaps next time--" No, she can't say that. Instead she looks away from you, hugging the bear a little closer.

"I didn't know what I was up against before. Now I do. And it seems likely to be the only way I'll figure out -who- this is." Tarrant looks perhaps a bit guilty at that intaken breath. "I figure finding out quickly and risking it is better than hanging on and tempting whoever it is to get daring again. Like that attempt here. I will not put others in danger. These folks have proved they don't mind letting civilians get in the way."

Corian nods very slowly to that, though she doesn't look any more happy with the solution. "Is it necessary that you go alone, though?" she inquires quietly. "If you had someone to watch your back, you would be safer."

"Into a known trap?" Tarrant shakes his head, "That wouldn't in the slightest be fair. What if something were to go wrong?"

Corian's voice is very quiet. She's still not looking at you. "If something were to go wrong, you would have assistance; you would have a better chance of emerging uninjured."

"But there'd be the chance that whoever went with me would get hurt, or worse, and I would want anything but that." Tarrant pauses a moment, considering the wall opposite. "It is different when it's a mission with a partner. Everything is known going into it. But a personal mission so to speak? That's different. It's not being willing to lay life and limb down for the body politic. It becomes personal."

Corian finally turns to look at you, reaching tentatively to touch your arm. "And what is so wrong about that?" she inquires softly. "It is different, yes, but not wrong. There are those who are willing to lay life and limb down for those for whom they care."

Tarrant brings his hand up carefully to cover yours gently, "I would not want someone hurt, attempting to protect me from my own folly."

Corian says softly, with a shake of her head, "Tarrant, it is not your folly--it is... we do not -know- who it is. Please, will you not let me go with you?" She's not utterly evil, though. Her gaze and her voice are both steady.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant shakes his slightly, not a very firm negative, but a negative nevertheless, "Corian, I love you a great deal. I could not bear to see you hurt in this. It is not merely a dangerous mission, it is one that I know will be trapped. If this were something the department wished to assign, with odds like this, I would laugh in their face."

Corian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "You could not bear to see me hurt, you say. So why in the world can you think that I could bear to see you leave, knowing that you might not return?" Her voice is as steady as ever, quietly reasonable, though there's a hint of tension to it that suggests that this steadiness is taking a bit of effort.

That brings Tarrant up a bit short, short and a bit puzzled. After all, he's just a friend, an amusing diversion to make snide comments. Surely Corian is able to find another just as easily. "Corian, I have all intents of returning. Goodness, even when I wandered into the situations unaware I got out in one piece. Surely knowing what I'm walking into, my chances are better?"

Corian doesn't look all that reassured. "You know that you walk into a trap, but you do not know who plans the trap, or what will be done. You have escaped in the past--will they not be that more intent to finish the job? Will they not know that you will be more alert?" She shakes her head slowly. "I have faith in you, van'chela, but you will allow me my worry, please."

"Worry, yes," Tarrant agrees softly, "But I still cannot countenance having you alongside. Corian...if something were to happen to you..."

Corian inquires quietly, "Can you trust anyone else to go with you? Van'chela, you have agreed that we make a good team. And will not having me there make you be more vigilant?"

"But Corian, if something were to happen...If I lost you...I would far rather lose my life, lose even my honor that to lose you," Tarrant's words are quiet, and he's unable to meet your gaze.

"Tarrant--" It's a moment or two before she can continue. She takes a deep breath. "First you say that your chances are better than they were in the past. Now you imply that it is so dangerous that I could be killed. You cannot have it both ways. I cannot help but think that you would be more safe if you were not alone."

"I do not think it is -likely-... But if it -did-..." Tarrant is really at a loss for coherent words, he's badly exhausted, he simply knows he thinks it's wrong for you to go, as to explaining why, well that he cannot seem to manage. "Look, if I get killed, at least it will be just me."

Corian regards you for a moment, then says, almost tonelessly, "You should go rest, van'chela. You're tired. If you wish for me to stay here, I... well, I suppose I really have no choice." She rubs lightly at her eyes, then repeats, the very smallest quiver in her voice, "You should go rest."

Tarrant regards you for a moment, expression rather stricken. But he can see a dismissal when it's made and reaches down to scoop up the crutches, dejected and demoralized. Levering himself up with his usual be-crutched grace, he simply offers the best bow he can manage. "As you bid, m'lady. Good evening."

Corian gets to her feet as well, tucking the bear under the blanket once more. She looks rather guilty at your manner, and reaches towards for a moment. "Tarrant, I..." But then she shakes her head fractionally, either unwilling or unable to continue. "Good evening, van'chela," she says quietly. "Have a pleasant evening. And... feel free to comm. I will be awake for some time, I believe."

Tarrant simply nods wordlessly. He's being pitched out of the place he's safe. Okay, so not really, but that's how it feels to him. Adding another half bow he slips from the room as best he can on the crutches.

Tarrant leaves the room.

Tarrant has left.

Corian comms. Again. She's gotten pretty good at it. It's very obvious that she's had a difficult several days, but she still manages a pleasant smile. "Is it too... goodness, I don't even know what time it is there. Is this a good time?"

"Corian, I've said it before and I'll say it again, there is never a bad time for you to call." Honalee is as composed as ever, settling into her chair and adjusting her ash gray robe. "Goodness dear, what's wrong?"

Corian takes a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start," she says, with a brief, humorless laugh. She considers for a moment, then discards the whole virgin birth bit. Time enough for that later, when she's able to laugh over it. "Tarrant, he... Hona, you were right, he loves me. He says he does, at least." Though why -this- should make her look so unhappy...

"I take it this doesn't please you, dear?" Honalee isn't sure what the shape of the knot is, so she's going to start picking at the edges sticking out and see what she can unravel.

Corian reaches for something out of your visual range--ah, some tea. Tea makes everything better. "No, no... it does. But he's leaving, and he won't let me go with him." She sips at the hot beverage, cupping it in her hands afterwards.

"Leaving?" Honalee is, yes, confused. "He says he loves you but he's leaving..."

Corian takes another of those deep breaths. How to explain this without being too specific. "He... he has enemies. He's going to try to find out who they are, so that they will not strike at him while he is here. He does not want to involve others, as he does not want them hurt." Maybe it's the tea that's helping, maybe it's your presence, but she sounds somewhat steadier.

Honalee ahhs quietly, reaching for tea of her own. "So it is not that he is leaving you per se, although that becomes a side effect obviously, but trying to protect you. And you do not appreciate this."

Corian nods firmly to that, with a faint smile. Someone understands, at least. "Just so. That is exactly it. He is protecting me, and he will not let me -help- him. I am able to take care of myself."

Honalee shakes her head slightly, "I think you will have a great deal of trouble convicing him, dear. If he does love you as he says... Well, men are protective creatures by nature."

Corian nods once more, gaze dropping briefly to peer into her tea. "I tried. But he does not seem likely to let me go with him." Looking up once more, she smiles faintly. "And I do think he loves me. I'm just glad he told me." She rubs rather impatiently at her eyes. "At least I know," she adds quietly.

"Certainly knowing is preferable to confusion," Honalee pauses a moment, regarding you. "And your feelings for him?"

Corian shakes her head very slowly. "Hona, I don't know. I don't even know -how- I know. I... I don't want him to leave. What if he doesn't come back?" There's a rather undignified sniffle at that, and then Corian fumbles for her handkerchief.

"Did you tell him that you didn't want him to go?" Honalee questions quietly, her tones relatively soothing.

Corian shakes her head once more, twisting the handkerchief in her hands. "I couldn't," she says softly. "I should have, but I couldn't."

"You couldn't?" Honalee echoes, her questions quiet and non-judgemental of tone.

"The words wouldn't come out," says Corian, quietly miserable. "I know he won't stay, anyway."

"You can always try. If he really loves you, he'll want to respect your wishes. It doesn't mean he'll stay, but there's a chance." Honalee half reaches towards the screen, as if reaching a comforting hand to you.

Corian catches the gesture, and her responding smile holds an equal amount of wistfulness and gratitude. She does not, however, say anything about how much she wishes you were where she is. "I believe that he would rather protect me," she says softly. "And the danger is real, I will admit that, but that is -why- I do not want him to go." She takes a deep breath, the better to avoid more undignified sniffling, then adds, voice still quiet, "But you are correct. I can try."

Honalee looks a little concerned about this whole danger issue, "Perhaps he is right, dear heart, you really don't need to be putting yourself in danger. I prefer my grandchildren in one piece."

Corian shakes her head slowly. "I do not think I am in any danger, Hona," she says, with a small smile. "There is no need for you to worry about me."

"Dear, I worry about the lot of you. I'm afraid you all inherited the family lunacy," Honalee sounds almost proud of that however.

Corian blinks at that, and echoes, "Family lunacy? So we are lunatics as well?" For whatever reason, that elicits a low laugh. "Well, that is a comfort, at least."

Honalee looks a bit puzzled, but she nods, "Yes, I am afraid so, born and bred. I'm not certain why you find it comforting, but as long as you are not -upset- by the fact."

Corian shakes her head. "I'm not, Hona," she says, with a wryly amused smile. "But... could you tell me, which of my lunacies is the familial one?"

"The one that seems to lack a decent and sane fear of danger, dear," Honalee explains quietly, looking perhaps a bit lost to memory.

Corian's smile fades slowly, and she nods. "I... well, no," she agrees softly. She offers you a small smile, looking rather uncertain as to what to say next.

"I am accustomed to my grandchildren possessing this particular lunacy. I had hoped at least one of you had escaped it." Honalee shakes her head, "So, aren't you going to call your friend? Before he goes off and leaves anyway?"

Corian's smile widens fractionally at your final statement. "Even Mother? And I'm sorry, Hona. If it's any consolation, I've respect for danger. And... yes, I think I'm going to call him."

"Even your mother, I promise." Honalee assures in a half-exasperated tone. "Have a good evening dear."

Corian doesn't believe you, of course--not her -mother-, goodness, no. But she just smiles and replies, "You, too, Hona. And thank you." With that, she ends the call.

You say "*quietly* Van'chela?" into the communit.

Through the static on Corian's communit you hear: The party you are attempting to reach is off world. Please leave a message with the Interior Department's central office.

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