4/14/99

Tarrant sleeps! Well, on and off he does at least. Just now he would be reaching the off mode of that. Stirring slightly he drags his eyes open, blinking against the brief moment of disorientation before he realizes where he is.

Corian doesn't sleep. She's actually been awake for quite some time, apparently, as the blanket has been put away and the chair has been folded to its full, upright, and locked position. She's still got your hand, though. Seeing that you're awake, she smiles, and offers a quiet, "Good morning, van'chela."

"Good morning," Tarrant murmurs softly, half shifting up a bit, or trying to do so at least. "Almost afternoon it looks like." He notes, glancing towards the window. "Afternoon's a good thing."

Corian nods to that, with a quick smile. "It is yet an hour shy of afternoon. But it will come soon enough. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," Tarrant offers with a still somewhat sleepy half-smile, "I did, although the random dream about the log flume and people being forced to use it as a luggage transport during an evacuation was a -little- surreal." He gently squeezes your hand, rather delighted it's still here. "How about you?"

Corian chuckles very quietly. "Somehow, I do not think that such would make a very appropriate method of luggage transport. The water, after all, would be somewhat problematic. And I slept reasonably well, yes. The chair is surprisingly comfortable."

"People were very upset about the last drop," Tarrant replies, still rather muzzily. "That's a good thing, that you slept well. Thank you for staying. I appreciate it more than I can say."

Corian's smile is warm. "You are very welcome, van'chela. Are you thirsty, or hungry, perhaps?" Maybe she'll even let you have her hand again, if she takes it away this time.

Tarrant uses his other arm to shift up a bit further, this attempt at propping himself up somewhat more successful. "Thirsty as all get out, I hate to ask..."

Corian gives your hand a gentle pat as she gets to her feet. "It is nothing at all to get a drink for you, Tarrant," she says, tone holding a hint of humor. "It is not far at all to walk, after all." She returns with a bottle of water, similar to that which she snagged for you yesterday. "There you go."

Tarrant accepts the bottles with a grateful nod, "Thank you, Corian. I appreciate it. Walking and I seem to be at odds of a sort still." He obviously was rather thirsty, as there's a pause for him to half drain the bottle before he continues. "Much better, thanks." He's working on coherancy an inch at a time, and managing it.

Corian's brows lift fractionally, and she pauses to get a second bottle before she returns to her seat. It's good to be prepared, after all. "You are welcome, van'chela. If you need anything, you have but to ask." She settles into the chair, folding her legs lotus-style, and offers you a cheerful smile.

Tarrant looks rather sheepish, reaching up to ruffle through his hair a moment before taking another long sip. "I dislike asking for such things, however, I will admit. I do not like being a hassle." There's a pause, "Well, I do like hassling annoying diplomats, but that is different."

Corian's fingers twitch. Hair in disarray. Must... not... fix! "But, Tarrant, I do not mind getting these things for you. It is a favor, the sort of thing that friends do for each other, yes?"

Tarrant finishes draining off the bottle, settling it aside with measured care. He sinks back against the pillowage, perhaps looking a bit relieved to do so. "Yeah, I guess it just seems different when I don't have the -option- of doing it otherwise."

Corian puts the second bottle in easy reach, just in case. "Well, you will have the option soon enough," she says reassuringly. "Clara did say this afternoon, yes?"

Tarrant grins rather sheepish thanks to the second bottle, taking it and sipping rather more slowly. "She did. She mentioned letting me out on good behavior if I behaved. To the best of my knowledge I have been behaving, so maybe she'll come and let me escape."

Corian nods thoughtfully to that. "You have certainly been behaving that I have seen," she says. With an amused smile, she adds, "With the exception of that marathon you ran, of course, but I suppose that can be excused. I do not see why she would not let you leave."

"The marathon was a special event after all," Tarrant chuckles quietly, settling the second bottle aside as well, the be-tubed arm crossed lightly over his chest. "I just wish I could remember where I mis-placed that trophy." He half-nods, "Escaping'll be nice. Although I must admit, I was much antsier to escape yesterday morning."

The trophy is hidden inside a vase, and Holmes is going to solve the crime? "I am glad that you have become more accustomed to this," Corian says, with a smile. "Though I cannot help but hope that you need not endure it again, as that will mean your safety."

"I don't know if it's being accustomed to it," Tarrant explains with almost a yawn, looking perhaps sheepish. "But that I wasn't by myself all night here. I actually got to sleep."

Corian reaches to smooth the blankets into place, ending up with one of her hands resting atop one of yours. "I am glad that I could help, then," she says softly, with a smile. "If I had known that you would have difficulty sleeping alone, I would have stayed the other night, as well."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant's thumb half creeps from beneath your hand, enfolding over it carefully. No scaring the hand away, trap it slowly. "Not normally a problem people should have, I was just being silly. Sillyness is something I'm known to be prone to. Tree-climbing and the like."

Corian's hand seems fairly sedate today, not fleeing just yet. "Well," she replies, with a smile, "You are most certainly allowed to be silly, Tarrant. There are definitely worse so-called failings to have, after all."

Tarrant's hand gains some courage by the sedate nature of yours, half twisting to half hold onto your hand. "It certainly must be worse to be too serious. Then not only would I be annying, I would also not be having any fun."

Corian's fingers tighten fractionally around your hand. Slowly but surely, it's happening. "You aren't annoying, van'chela. You are yourself. That is somewhat different." She smiles, perhaps a bit amused. "Fun, after all, is important."

"Perhaps I am not annoying to you, but I take great pride in annoying a large number of people who are indeed too serious." Tarrant's hand quietly revels in the minute movement. It's something! It's hope! "Life's meant to be enjoyed."

Corian murmurs, mostly to herself, "I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear." It sounds like a quotation, probably because it is. Her gaze seeks yours, then flickers away for a moment. "I did quite a lot of thinking before I went to sleep last night."

Tarrant is quiet a brief moment, regarding you as best he can from his current position, returning the gaze and trying to look non-threatening or scary or any of those type of things. Pretty easy considering his pupils are still oversized and he's in an equally oversized hospital bed. "Thinking's always good, well, in the end. Sometimes the actual process isn't so much fun."

Corian nods very slowly to that. "I... yes, well, it was certainly rather enlightening, at least. I--I believe I came to a conclusion or two. I am not sure just what it will change, but I have."

"Does it make you feel better to have come to these conclusions?" Tarrant asks quietly, still trying to be as non-intrusive as he can and still ask questions.

Corian nods to your question, with a smile that is as brilliant as it is quick. "It may be proof of my insanity, but, yes, it does make me feel better." She pauses a moment, then decides to stop prolonging the agony. "It terrifies me, too, though. You see... I... I think I love you." (So what'm I so afraid of?)

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Obviously that was -not- what Tarrant was expecting to hear, not by any means. The phrase 'thunderstruck' seems to have been invented for him at this very moment in fact. Or would that be Tarrantstruck considering what his name means? There's the pause of a single heartbeat while he just looks -shocked-, and then he grins. Grins just doesn't seem to cover it as a word though, this is a look of such total and entire delight that words rather fail in description. He carefully squeezes your hand, bringing the betubed one over to top it, "I think..." he manages," I am going to go over into the corner now and simply pass out from joy, pardon me."

A slow smile crosses Corian's face, a hint of her own delight there. She clings to your hand, though, shaking her head. "Please do stay in bed, Tarrant," she says, her quiet laughter bubbling out despite her best efforts. "Clara would be most put out with me if you did not, I think, and she might make you stay here longer."

Tarrant does not in fact look like he's likely to go anywhere, not with you holding onto his hand. "And I would not want her to entrap me here further, not when the world has suddenly become a much nicer place." He gently rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, an absent gesture.

Corian looks rather pleased by your words. At the very least, her hand remains where it is, instead of scurrying back to her lap. "I... well, yes, I am glad that you think so." She pauses a beat, then inquires slowly, "But what do we do about it, van'chela? After all, you still have your job, and I have mine. You will have to... travel."

There's a quiet moment as Tarrant looks thoughtful, "To travel yes. But never for very long. I am assigned here. And I can arrange not to be assigned elsewhere..."

Corian watches you for a moment, a hint of relief in her gray eyes. "That would be good," she says softly. "That would be very good. I would appreciate that, very much. And once my contract here has been completed, we can decide then what we will do next, yes?"

"That sounds like a good idea to me," Tarrant says quietly, still looking entirely overjoyed. "One step at a time, just as we have gotten along so far."

Corian settles back against her chair, though she doesn't by any stretch of the imagination move her hand. "We will manage quite nicely," she says, with a slow smile. Then, apparently, she realizes something, and she lifts her free hand to cover her face. "Oh, but Hona will be so smug."

"Well, think of it this way," Tarrant muses in quiet amusement, "If she were not smug about this, she would find something else to be smug about. So it all works out for the best. At least this way you can get the smug-sufferance out of the way." He shifts half onto one side so he can see you better, as well as to hold onto your hand that much better, his larger hands around your far more graceful one.

Corian nods her agreement with that, lowering her free hand so that the wry amusement in her gray eyes may be seen. "Yes, of course, but she will compare me to Mother again. Mother did something rather like this, you see." She shakes her head, then, adding, "It is worthwhile, though. She was very helpful, after all."

"Is it so bad to be compared to your mother?" Tarrant questions quietly, fond smile widening, "After all she must be a very lovely woman indeed, considering her daughter." He nods, although the gesture is perhaps a bit vague considering his position. "If she was helpful in achieving this end, I shall have to thank her profusely."

Corian ponders your question for a moment, with a quick smile for the addendum to it. "I suppose it is not so bad, no. I just... well, I did not consider myself to be like her." Her lips quirk just a bit, and she adds, "Hona was very helpful, yes. It very likely would have taken me quite a bit longer to realize what I already knew, without her."

Tarrant cannot help it, he's been aching to do this for so long. He shifts up more or less onto one elbow, gently bringing up the captured hand to kiss it with excessive gentleness before dropping back off the elbow, still a bit too floppy for goverment work. "Sometimes it is the role of others to point out that which we cannot see because it is too complicated, or too largely before our eyes. Honalee is perhaps kinder than John was, as I am assuming she didn't hit you upside the back of the head in an attempt to be helpful."

Corian blinks at the courtly gesture, then absolutely beams for a moment, very obviously pleased. Hey, she didn't flee, that's a good sign. At your final statement, however, she blinks, smile fading. "Hit... no, goodness, Hona did not do that. Did John actually -hit- you?"

Tarrant laughs softly, half nodding. "Not hard of course, but he did. It certainly was a clear illustration of his concept." He looks rather relieved that you look pleased, having been half afraid to frighten you. "Namely that I am hardheaded."

Corian still looks rather surprised, though. "Van'chela, why in the world did he hit you?" She pauses a beat. "And when, for that matter?"

"That last night, after the bombing, when everybody was splitting to the four winds." Tarrant explains quietly, eyes on your hand, rather than meeting your gaze. "He informed me if I was going to keep sighing every time you walked past I better say something before you walked past for good. Then though, well, I didn't understand. Hence the need for my be-thwapping."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian nods very slowly, expression thoughtful. "I... well, I suppose it made a point? John sometimes seemed rather blunt." She pauses a beat, then says slowly, "But you did not say anything."

"No, I didn't," Tarrant replies softly, "And the more fool I. I wasn't sure of what I was feeling, after all, I've never been in love before. And you were so difficult to reach, I thought. Beyond the height I dared to stretch."

Corian carefully edges a bit closer, though she's still in the chair. "I can certainly understand your uncertainty, Tarrant," she says, with a faint smile. "After all, I did the same, so I can hardly call it foolish." At that last, though, she shakes her head. "I am here." She squeezes your hand gently, adding, "I am more than definitely within reach. Flaran cha'menthi, van'chela."

"Most assuredly within reach," Tarrant murmurs in still wonder-struck awe. "To hand so to speak." He looks down to your hand again, this time simply to be in awe of its presence, rather than to avoid your gaze. "Flaran cha'menthi?" He echoes, making it a question.

Corian gives you a quizzical little smile. "You have used the expression in the past, Tarrant--the day that we met up here, I believe it was. I dare... we dare. It is something along those lines."

Tarrant blinks a moment, looking perhaps a bit sheepish, "Sorry, memory is still not functioning as well as it might. The drugs are entirely less than pleasing just now, when I would most appreciate having my wits at my command. As it is they are more than a bit scattered still."

After a brief pause, Corian looks rather sheepish as well. "I am sorry, van'chela. I should have timed my... announcement somewhat better, I am afraid. But it is likely that you will be rid of the drugs today, yes?"

Tarrant squeezes your hand, glancing up at you, "No, I do not think you could have timed it any better, considering you had just come to a decision last night. Except perhaps to have woken me then to tell me."

Corian shakes her head firmly at that, expression fondly amused. "I most certainly would not have done that, as tempting as it was. You need your sleep, after all, to recover--especially if you did not sleep well the night before last."

"Still, it would have been well worth it, to hear such a thing," Tarrant replies with a decided grin. "Although I am hardly to complain, it has been said now, all that matters." Perhaps his drawl is a bit thicker, although he is attempting to be careful of it. "Still, I very much appreciate your having stayed the night, although a decided part of me was annoyed that I was -sleeping- when I had a chance to spend time with you."

Corian chuckles very quietly. "You were spending time with me, you were merely asleep during the time. Besides," she adds, a smile warming her face. "We have plenty of time to share. If you are tired, you should sleep. I am hardly going anywhere, after all."

"Not going anywhere," Tarrant echoes, obviously enjoying the sound of those words. "Plenty of time...These are wonderful things to hear you say." He shakes his head slightly however, "Sleeping right now wouldn't be a good idea. Clara might show up, and then not let me go."

"Or maybe," Corian replies, with a smile that belies her stern tone, "She might see that you are being sensible and resting when you are tired. If you -are- tired, Tarrant, you should sleep. I will be here, and you will likely be easily woken, yes? So you can speak with Clara."

Tarrant looks more than a bit sheepish, thumb once again brushing at your hand, "Do I get laughed at if I admit I am afraid to go to sleep? For fear this is a dream, and in sleeping find I wake."

Corian shakes her head very slowly, though her smile is touched with amusement. "Tarrant, I will not laugh at you, but I promise you, this is real." She pauses a beat, then says, smile warming, "I do love you. That will not change if you sleep. But if you would rather remain awake, of course, I understand."

"Amo, amas, I love a lass, as a cedar tall and slender; sweet cowslip's grace is her nominative case, and she's of the feminine gender." Tarrant murmurs softly, his expression still one of awestruck fondness. "Real, very much real, real and wonderful."

Corian's silvery-blonde brows lift at the verse, though her smile is as warm as ever, if touched with amusement. She reaches tentatively to brush at your hair with her fingertips--it's been tormenting her, after all. "It is wonderful," she agrees, smile turning a bit giddy. "Now I understand what Hona was trying to say, what all those songs and poems that baffled me meant. Tarrant, thank you for that--this is wonderful."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

That's what hair is -for-, to torment people. Tarrant's eyes half-close in pleasure at the touch. "No, thank you...I had never thought I had known a lack of happiness in life, I have ever been content. But in this, I know such happiness as to far eclipse anything else I have ever known, excepting in your presence."

Corian fusses with your hair for a moment longer, until it is unmussed to her satisfaction. That hand drops to join the other, lightly sandwiching yours. "For people so different," she says, with a quick smile, "It is amazing how similar we can be. This is much the same as that which I have said, or thought, and yet I hear it coming from you."

"Hey, we're not as different as all that," Tarrant offers quietly, looking perhaps a bit amused. "We're both lunatics, we're both evil, although you are much more sneakily evil than I am, and umm...well we're both in this room...Okay, so I'm stretching."

Corian adds softly, really unable to keep back her rather silly smile, "We are both in love, as well. That is a very pleasant similarity indeed, and one that I am most glad that we share."

"It is a wonderful thing to be in love. I did not think there could be anything more wonderful." Tarrant's expression is still a little be-fuzzed with the drugs, but far more with awe. "I was wrong. It is all the more wonderful to find one is loved in return."

Now, Corian's expression was already rather besotted, but now it gets even more so. The sugar police are going to be knocking down the door in another moment. Her hands very gently tighten around yours, though, as always, she's very careful about the gesture. "Wonderful, wonderfuler, wonderfulest." She's a linguist. She's allowed to create words.

That's okay, hospital rooms are always supposed to have the fresh scent of pine anyhow. In this case sap rather than cleanser. Tarrant is probably glad of the care, he most assuredly likes to have his hands in yours, but as much trouble as he got in for just -poking- the tube, he'd probably have to defend you against the wrath of an enraged Clara if you were squishing it. "Wonderfulest indeed. I like that word." He grins in an amused fashion, "Seems to sum things up rather neatly."

Corian smiles cheerfully at your assessment. "I am glad that you approve of my word creativity, Tarrant. That actually -is- a word in Sectassian, though their language is so convoluted, that should not come as a surprise." She utters something with quite a lot of s-sounds, looking rather amused.

"I am not surprised, Sectassians seems given to superlatives. Nothing by halves, certainly, if their families are any measure. Or their playgrounds." Tarrant muses quietly, sounding bemused. "Maybe a -Sectassian- style treehouse." There's a pause, "If there's a big enough tree..."

Corian's expression lights at that particular idea. "Oh, that would be -wonderful-. You would make yourself thirty-odd new friends if you did that, and would perhaps even win over young Xalin. I am certain that we can find a suitable tree, if we do a bit of looking."

"That nightmare huge one your cousin was attempting to scale perhaps," Tarrant looks rather thoughtful, "It has some suitably massive branches, and although climbing it was perhaps tricky, if a ladder of sorts were provided, I doubt there would be any real difficulty in accessing it. With the size of this place's library I'm sure I could find something relatively suitable. Maybe the older ones who would remember such treehouses from home could give me some suggestions as well."

Corian nods to that, looking more and more chipper. "And Ximena would be willing to help, most likely--though she will probably refrain from any climbing of her own, for some time." She smiles fondly at that.

"Refraining from climbing?" Tarrant pauses a moment, then answers his own question, "Ah, another child? I seem to recall you mentioning such at least? As I have said my memory is perhaps less than perfect at the moment." He half grins though at the prospect of such a project, "Get some time off, maybe rope Gardener into helping. He's always building stuff and showing off the pictures around the offices. Admittedly, a demolitions degree's probably bad in such a case, but I have built a few treehouses in my time. This one should simply be an adventure."

Corian nods to that, with a warm smile. "Another child, yes--just what the Complex needs, another Sectassian." Only when she says, it she actually sounds like she means it. She's a big fan of all the Sectassians but dear old Saaranus. "And I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Tarrant, especially as it would involve time off."

"One of the nice things about this line of work, one's employer is usually willing to allow time off after things have been insane. Not wanting any mistakes and all," Tarrant eases back again into the pillowage, content with your hands to remind him of your presence. "And if it might con Xalin into thinking I'm not evil..."

Corian nods thoughtfully to your first statement, hands still lightly secure around yours. "It may well do that, yes," she says. "He hasn't spent much time on Sectas, but he was jabbering to me about treehouses the last time we went to the park together. It was... most entertaining."

"As long as they let me play in it too. I -like- treehouses. Of course the best time for treehouses, they will likely not be allowed in the park." Tarrant's musing tone is one of fond reminisence. "At night, when the stars are beginning to peer through. Or when it is raining, to be safe from the water and the cold, but to be so close to it."

Corian looks utterly thrilled at the prospect of being in a -treehouse- in the rain. "Ah, Tarrant, that sounds utterly perfect. I have," she admits, "Never actually been in a treehouse--or in a tree, for that matter. I suppose I should try it, at some point."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant blinks several times, shifting once again to regard you, this time in a rather startled fashion. "Never been in a -treehouse-? Corian, you have indeed missed out on one of the finer things life has to offer. This will most assuredly have to be remedied. Treehouses are without parellel. I lived in one for all too brief a time. A wonderful place indeed."

Corian smiles rather wistfully. "You mentioned it, yes. And Kashid is not exactly a world prone to the random building of treehouses. On the other worlds I visited... well, I did not really take the time. I shall have to do so, in the future."

"Not a whole lot of trees, nope," Tarrant half-grins at you, still rather be-fuzzed. "I'll make sure to show you treehouses. Can't have really lived if you've never had a -treehouse-."

Corian's lips quirk in amusement, though her voice smooths somewhat, slow and soothing and maybe a little monotonous. Hey, if you're not sleepy, it won't work. "Well, then, we will certainly have to find a treehouse, or build one, or some such. I can't go through life not really living, after all."

Tarrant says, "Treehouse, building one...I'll ask Gardener. He'll...know who...who to ask." The halting pauses in Tarrant's speech draw longer and longer, "Life is meant to be lived...I finally know what living really is." By now his eyes have sagged entirely shut, despite his ongoing battle to keep them open. He'll probably be much happier when the drugs no longer enforce rest."

"Treehouse, building one...I'll ask Gardener. He'll...know who...who to ask." The halting pauses in Tarrant's speech draw longer and longer, "Life is meant to be lived...I finally know what living really is." By now his eyes have sagged entirely shut, despite his ongoing battle to keep them open. He'll probably be much happier when the drugs no longer enforce rest.

Corian gently frees one of her hands to straighten your blanket, though she returns it quickly enough to yours. "Rest well," she says softly. "I'll be here, dream sweetly."

Tarrant murmurs something very soft, and sadly entirely incomprehensible, and does indeed drift off to sleep, one hand clutching lightly at yours, although the rest of him is relaxed into drugged abandon.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.


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