4/14/99

Tarrant stirs vaguely from his sleep, blinking several times at the fading light. Something is not right with the universe. He half mumbles, not really awake, "Did I misbehave?"

Corian starts out of her half-drowse. She doesn't have anything else to do down here, after all. "Mm?" She liberates one of her hands to rub at her eyes. "Oh... goodness, it is no longer afternoon. I do not believe you did."

Especially not with her hands having been claimed. Tarrant looks rather sheepish, shifting up a bit. "Didn't mean to wake you. It's certainly on towards evening, though. And as wonderful as it is to have time undisturbed with you, I'd really rather spend it under the influence of fewer drugs."

Corian shakes her head, with a quick smile. "I wasn't fully asleep," she reassures. "I was merely resting my eyes." She shifts to a slightly more comfortable position, adding, "Fewer drugs would be preferable, yes. We could comm Clara to see if she was delayed?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Tarrant agrees, settling into a half propped up position. "Goodness knows, as she was on medical leave yesterday though, she might still be so."

Corian inclines her head to that. "That is entirely possible. Or she could have work that presented itself during her absence. Would you like to comm, or should I?"

"If you could? Or if you could hand me my comm unit? It's in that pile with my stuff." Tarrant half indicates his folded and fried jacket, topped with his comm unit and watch, things that had to be removed, on a shelf in one corner.

Corian laughs quietly at that. "I'll comm," she says, apparently finding that making a decision is not that difficult a thing. After a brief exhange with someone--probably Kramer--she reports, "Clara is actually delivering a baby just now--one of the Edreeni delegates. I suppose you did not misbehave after all, then."

Tarrant whews quietly with exaggerated relief, "Oh good, I was afraid I had transgressed without even realizing it." He settles back absently, half-grinning, still entirely thrilled with existance. "Delivering a baby, I think she can be forgiven." He regards you a moment, rather unapologetically lovesick by his expression. "Still there."

Corian chides gently, though her tone is fond, "Well, I told you that I would be here. I am not going anywhere." She shifts so that she's only holding your non-IV'd hand, inquiring, "Would you like some water? Or are you hungry? Unless you did so while I was napping, I do not believe you have eaten today."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant shakes his head in a brief negative, "I haven't, but then unless the same case is true, nor've you." He half-grins, almost shyly, "I know that you said you'd still be here. But it is very hard to shake the feeling that this is some terribly wonderful dream." He pauses, "Though to tell the truth, I'd think I'd have better taste than to have dreams involving IV lines."

Corian prudently doesn't comment on her own food consumption, a sure sign that she didn't duck out to eat while you were asleep. Instead, she smiles, rather amused. "Well, no, the IV line certainly doesn't belong in a proper dream." Her free hand lifts tentatively to touch your cheek, just for a moment. "But your eyes are open, and I am here."

Tarrant's smile widens at the tentative touch, squeezing your hand gently by return. "Yes, for the first time in my life my eyes really are open." It's a world of puppies and unicorns? "I love you, just in case you've forgotten, I don't think you -have- of course, but I like to say it."

From the slow smile that crosses Corian's face, and the warming of her eyes, she enjoys hearing it. Rather shyly, she replies, "I love you, too." And then her smile widens. "Goodness, that's a wonderful thing to hear--and to say."

Tarrant all but melts into a puddle at that, eyes only for you at this moment in time. "It is a wonderful thing..." He sounds all but awe struck for a moment before adding, "It's odd isn't it. It's such a -little- word. At least in the languages I speak, I guess you could tell me if that were the case in others..."

Corian laughs very quietly at that, and nods. "It is longer in some languages than others--in Gileni, it is nearly long enough to encompass the concept." She looks for a moment like she's going to lecture, then shakes her head. "But now is not quite the time for a lecture on comparative linguistics."

Tarrant half-grins at that, "Aww, not into the idea of a captive audience? I certainly do not mind lectures on comparative linguistics, although I am afraid I would have little to offer by way of discussion, as while I speak a double handful of tongues, I have never made formal study of them."

Corian says cheerfully, "Ah, but nor have I, for the most part. It is much easier to learn a language in the environment in which it is spoken--at least for me, that is."

"Kind of like learning to swim by being thrown in the lake," Tarrant nods his agreement, looking amused. "Very efficent, if a bit scary at first."

Corian blinks at that. "I believe that is how my brother learned--swimming is yet another thing for which Kashid did not provide many opportunities, along with tree houses. It does seem like it would be somewhat nerve-wracking, though, yes."

"You don't know how to swim?" Tarrant queries with quiet curiosity. "Have you ever had any desire to learn?"

Corian shakes her head to the first question. To the second, after a brief pause, she says slowly, "I have not really had the time to consider it." In other words, there's no way in the world that she's putting on a bathing suit.

"Swimming's fascinating," As would be Corian in bathing suit in Tarrant's opinion. "And a nice thing to know in case of emergencies. Not to mention a -lot- of fun in hot weather. Although swimming here's a little weird. Too many folks, the pool's a bit fancy."

Corian says hesitantly, "It would be useful to know, yes. Riley had mentioned a trip on Clara's boat, but I am not especially concerned that such an invitation will be offered any time soon, considering his schedule." After a brief pause, she adds, "Goodness, yes, far too many people use that pool." Far too many people who would see her in a bathing suit, yup.

"Maybe sometime someplace significantly less inhabited. Swimming's just...inexplicable." Tarrant glances to the window and the now all but full dark. "Not that I have any idea where. I haven't seen as much of this planet as I'd like."

After a long pause of consideration, Corian says slowly, manner still somewhat hesitant, "There is, I believe, a lake outside the Steading." She pauses a beat, then segues neatly into, "Perhaps, if you are able to gain some time off, you can do a bit more sightseeing around Linnae."

"A lake?" Tarrant echoes, looking rather thoughtful, "Bears investigation certainly." He half-grins, "Some time off is on the list, but the tree house first. Bribing children."

Now there is something that Corian can do that doesn't involve removing clothing. She brightens at that. "A tree house would be wonderful, yes." Much better than swimming. "Xalin will be quite pleased to hear of this plan, as will his siblings."

"I'll have to solicit design suggestions from them," Tarrant grins absently. "Not that I speak enough Sectassian to save me, but hey. Half the adventure."

Corian looks rather amused at that. "The older children speak Standard quite well. Xalin does not merely because he has not had much of a chance to learn either language very well. The family speaks Sectassian at home, of course--his Sectassian is not bad--and he hears Standard around the Complex." With a small frown, she adds, "He's been having a difficult time at school lately, the poor child."

Tarrant ahhs quietly, nodding. "Standard I speak, obviously enough, even if I talk funny. Well, most of the time. I don't -have- to. It's just easier." He looks quietly thoughtful at your frown, "Because of his lack of facility with the language?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian nods to that. "In part, yes. He is also more used to his elder siblings than to children his own age--and I suppose," she adds, a bit sheepishly, "The time that he spends with me is hardly helpful."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with having older friends," Tarrant replies with a hint of humor in his tone. "Still, the language can be helped, yes? If others took care to speak to him only in Standard...Well, tossing him in the lake and all."

Corian casts an amused smile in response to your first statement. At the latter, she nods slowly. "I... yes, that would probably be helpful, if somewhat frustrating to him at first. I do not know that his family would go along with it, though."

"Drive the poor little fella' nuts for a while," Tarrant agrees quietly, eyes half-closing. "But it would help. That was how we taught Sarah Standard. We had to break into in the house. She learned it cleaner than I did. She doesn't have to work not to have an accent."

Corian looks rather thoughtful about it for a moment. "I will suggest it to Ximena. She is rather concerned about him; perhaps she can convince Saaranus to do what is right." Her tone holds a hint of wry humor at that. She's not holding her breath. With a smile for that last, she adds, "But your accent is charming, van'chela. It is one of those traits which makes you the individual that you are."

"I think 'charming' is by all means debatable. Still, it doesn't bother me any, since I can work around it when I hafta'." Tarrant is obviously not doing so now. He may not buy charming, but if you do, he's hardly going to try and eradicate it. Charming's a good thing, right? "Still, in some jobs it's not the best thing to have. He might grow up to such a career."

Corian nods as she gets to her feet, rummaging for some more of that handy water. She offers you a bottle as she returns, but this time she got one for herself, as well. After all, she's not really one to risk dehydration. "That is true, yes. In my job, for example--well, in Standard it does not matter quite so much, except that a lack of accent allows me to seem more objective. But speaking Gileni with a Kashidian accent, for example, is potentially dangerous."

Tarrant accepts the proffered water with a thankful smile and a murmured, "My thanks." He takes a long sip, listening. "Dangerous?"

Corian nods her agreement to that. "The inflections could change the meanings of the words," she replies. "The Gileni tongue is a tricky one, and the Gileni are easily offended."

Tarrant nods his understanding, settling the bottle to one side after making rather an in-road into it. Water is, after all, a good thing. "There are a lot of situations where care is important. One thing off one way or another, and offense is managed."

Corian nods at that as she drinks her own water. She's slower at it, but rather obviously glad to have the beverage. "Yes," she agrees, with a quick smile. Folding her legs tailor-fashion, she says, "For the most part, though, my job is not that dangerous."

"Which certainly must be a pleasant change," Tarrant tugs at the blanket, shifting it aside and slowly levering himself up into a truly seated position, no pillows propping him upright. "Or it would be if I didn't keep getting you into scrapes."

Corian reaches as if to support you, though she doesn't actually touch you just yet. "Well," she admits, with an almost sheepish smile, "I actually enjoyed those parts. My job is interesting at times, but it can certainly get boring as well. You most definitely alleviate that problem."

Tarrant only wobbles a bit, shifting a hand back to catch himself. He's steady relatively quickly thereafter however. He half-grins at you, looking rather amused. "I live to serve. Goodness knows, I wouldn't be in such a business if I didn't crave a little adventure myself."

Corian teases gently, "Ah, but I always saw you behind a desk, enjoying yourself with paperwork."

Tarrant edges carefully back, using the bed for support, but still sitting normally upright rather than only partially so. Snickering he shakes his head, "Even as a kid I knew better than that. I wanted to blow things up."

Corian's brows lift fractionally at that. "You know, that does not surprise me." With a laugh, she inquires, "Have you met my brother? The younger one, that is--he seems to have had some tendencies along the same lines."

"Hey, I was even good at it. I have the documentation to prove it." Tarrant pauses a moment, "The younger one...ah, the curly haired Commander Casymed, the station's XO." Click, that would be Tarrant's memory actually functioning. "I do not believe we've formally met, but I've run into hime a couple of times. It's a small community."

Corian inclines her head to your last statements, then has a pause of her own, taking a final sip of her water before she sets aside the bottle. "Documentation? Now that sounds somewhat ominous. And, yes, the XO."

With a grin, Tarrant shakes his head. "Not so ominous as it sounds. Just a rather amusing letter of reccomendation from a summer internship I served in college." He nods to that, "He too enjoys blowing things up?"

Corian, reaching lightly for your hand, says, "It sounds like there is a story behind that particular internship." After a brief pause, she says, "From what I have heard, yes, he does--he studied chemistry in university, and got somewhat... creative. He's a good kid, though."

Tarrant is more than willing to participate in hand holding, although he does sink down a bit first, leaving his seated position to return to his back. Gently he squeezes your hand. "Ahh, it was interesting. I was studying demolitions, and I spent a summer interning with an asteroid mining corporation. I was somewhat...eager, much to the amusement of the others working there."

It's much to the amusement of Corian, as well, if her expression is any judge. "Did you end the internship with the appropriate number of buildings standing?" she inquires.

Tarrant looks rather exessively chagrined, "Buildings? Yes. Asteroids? Not -exactly-...I really didn't realize that I could trigger a chain reaction like that, I just wanted to impress everybody and have the exposion be really...well large. I took out two other asteroids in the belt as well."

Corian's brows incline very slowly, though her amusement does not fade. If anything else, it increases. "Oh, dear. Oh... no, poor Tarrant." She's not laughing, but she's close. "That certainly must have been an adventure."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Thankfully it really wasn't a big deal, I just suffered through a distressingly large number of snide nicknames for the rest of the summer," Tarrant explains with an amused head shake. "Certainly an effective lesson on the sin of pride."

Corian inquires, looking decidedly amused but still not laughing, "Did the incident occur very close to the beginning of the internship? And it's most effective, yes, without being overly damaging."

"The second week of it," Tarrant explains, eyes half closing, although he chuckles softly. "I do not think I suffered any damage, true, except to my ego. I certainly learned caution. And I got to spend the summer blowing up massive rocks, a young man's dream come true I tell you."

Corian's lips quirk with amusement. "Then it sounds like it was an excellent experience for you." Yeesh, Honalee was right, she -was- forty at four.

"Very theraputic," Tarrant agrees, chuckling softly, "Then I graduated and joined the military. A lifetime spent breaking things. There are certainly worse things." He is by now entirely flat, relaxed under the blanket. "Where did you go to school, Kashid?"

Corian inclines her head. "Kashid, yes," she says, instinctively lowering the volume of her voice. No, not because there's anything secretive about going to school on Kashid, but because she thinks you might be going to sleep. "I was able to gain a fellowship after that, which started my travels."

Tarrant may very well be close to sleep, certainly his eyes are closed and he's quite relaxed. Drugs are terribly evil. He sounds coherant enough though, "Ah, traveling, one of the finer things. There's just so -much- out there. It's nice to have someplace to come back to though."

Corian nods her agreement to that, voice smoothing. "That it is," she murmurs. "Even when one does not return to that someplace." After a brief pause, she adds, "Why don't you sleep, Tarrant? It will still not be a dream."

"It helps to go back once in a while. It does." Tarrant pauses a moment, "It's awfully late. Shouldn't you eat? Sleep, I can do that. I just feel bad though, for falling asleep on you."

Corian says gently, "If you are tired, you should sleep. If you are hungry, you should eat. Your body knows what it needs, you should listen to it." Oh, man, it's a -really- good thing Kathlyn isn't here.

"I really can skip on eating til I get out of here. Applesauce is really not my favorite food option. Least that's assuming I get out of here tonight." Tarrant half-smiles, "I'm not so stubborn as all that." He pauses, gently rubbing at the back of your hand with a thumb. "I just know I didn't like being here with it all so quiet and all by myself. I don't want you to have to deal with that either."

Corian glances down at her hand for a moment, then looks back up with a fond smile. "I do not mind it, though, van'chela. I was content last night, and this morning. There is much that can be done when one is alone and surrounded by quiet."

Tarrant is quiet a moment, "Sleep's good," he murmurs. There's a pause however, and he tries to gently tug your hand to his chest, resting it in such a fashion that his heart beating is easily discernable. "Yours," he says simply, dropping into his milk tongue so half-asleep is he.

Corian goes utterly still for a moment, though her rather floored smile makes it clear that she's not upset, not even remotely so. She lifts that hand to touch your face, fingers light on your cheek. "Mine," she responds in the same language, a hint of wonder in her tone. "Sleep well, Tarrant."

Corian goes utterly still for a moment, though her rather floored smile makes it clear that she's not upset, not even remotely so. She lifts that hand to touch your face, fingers light on your cheek. "Mine," she responds in the same language, a hint of wonder in her tone. "Sleep well, Tarrant."

And with a half-smile Tarrant does just that, fading rather quickly into sleep, the drugs dragging him back down, not content to let him escape the clutches of sleep for long.

Corian settles a bit more comfortably into the chair. After a moment or two of watching you sleep, she reaches to take your hand, moving slowly and carefully.

Tarrant doesn't seem to awaken, although in his sleep his hand tightens slightly in yours, holding on in return.

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

Tarrant is asleep, he gets out of having to answer it this time.

Corian wakes enough to do so, rubbing lightly at her eyes.

Corian calls, "Come in."

Clara comes in from the Housing Hub.

Clara has arrived.

Corian is perched in the chair next to the bed, looking rumpled enough that it's likely she's spend some time sleeping in these clothes. Tarrant has posession of one of her hands, the other is in the process of returning to her lap. "Good evening," she offers quietly, with a glance to see if Tarrant is still asleep. She's pleasant, of course. She's always pleasant. But it seems like there's something more, this time. Huh.

Tarrant sleeps, it's a talent he has, or rather one the drugs inspire. The various knocking and calling of greetings however serve as something to at least somewhat awaken him and he stirs, attempting to haul himself into the realm of the coherant and awake.

Clara lets herself in, a fairsized medical kit over one shoulder and comfortably dressed in scrubs, a mask pulled down to rest on her chest. "Evening," she offers quietly in deference to possibly sleeping people. "How's he doing? Any problems?"

Corian murmurs something vaguely reassuring in Tarrant's general direction, then answers, "There have been no problems, no--the cortrazime is keeping him fairly quiet," she adds, with a hint of whimsical humor.

Tarrant manages to drag himself close enough to awake to snicker at that softly, "Ah, the mystery's revealed, the stuff's just to knock me out so I don't annoy y'all yammering." He stifles a yawn, looking a hair more alert. "Nice drug, evil side effect."

Clara's brows lift in general amusement at that. If she's noticed the extra pleasantness or the held hand, and she likely has, she's not mentioning it. Instead, she unholsters her scanner while setting the medkit at the foot of the bed, and proceded to use it. The monitor gets a quick check, as well as the IV, and an affirmative nod. "That's right. Just to shut you up. Arm up, Tarrant...I need a look at the wound."

Corian tsks softly at Tarrant. "The drug was also supposed to make you unaware enough that you would miss my comment," she teases gently.

Tarrant agreeably shifts the arm to the side, offering Corian a sheepishly apologetic look as he must let go of her hand to do so. "There are easier ways to shut me up. Duct tape for example." He grins at Corian, chuckling.

Clara glances at Corian briefly, brows lifted, then back at Tarrant almost questioningly, but the question goes unvoiced as she bends to unsnap the side of his shirt and examine under the bandage. And then remove it entirely to reveal new scarring. "I have good news and bad news," she offers. "What do you want first?"

Corian returns the glance with another of her patented innocent looks--only this time, she really is a little too cheerful to pull it off with her usual believability. At the inquiry, however, she sobers somewhat, leaning against the back of the chair as she listens.

"Which way makes a better story of it?" Tarrant asks, rather irrepressably cheerful despite the circumstances, although it is dimmed somewhat.

Clara is trying to hide a smile by this point, removing electrodes before she resnaps the shirt. "The bad news is...I'd like you to stay until morning." She loops the electrodes back over the monitor and turns it off before heading over to her bag to start prepping a hypo.

Corian's brows lift fractionally at that, and she starts to ask a question before pursing her lips, concern evident on her features. She gives Tarrant's hand a gentle squeeze, likely barely perceptible.

Tarrant looks rather saddened by this particular news indeed, somewhat taken aback perhaps. He is however, as has been mentioned, irrepressable, and doesn't let it phaze him long. "Morning. I'm gonna holdja' to that you know," he says teasingly.

"Never hold a doctor to anything, Tarrant. Look where it got Corian's brother," Clara warns, rather amused. She presses the hypo directly over the scarring, then sets it aside to start carefully removing the IV. "The good news is, I'm taking you off the monitor and IV. The bed monitor and a local should do you quite well."

Corian's hand must be frightened by these unfamiliar hands removing the IV, as it retreats to her lap once more. "Ah, but Riley seems happy," Corian observes, keeping her smile pleasant--rather than letting it become rather oversweet--by sheer force of will.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant perks up at that at least, although he does glance at the fleeing of Corian's hand. His eyes track back over to the IV being removed however. "Really would be awfully nice to get out of here though, not to malign your lovely room and all, Clara. I've even been behaving."

Clara half smiles back at Corian, pausing as she winds the tubing over the IV stand. "Finding out he loved me was perhaps the best thing that's ever happened in my life," she agrees, then returns to straightening up before laughing. "Save the conniving till morning, mister. I'm nothing if not stubborn."

"Everybody's stubborn," Tarrant protests with a quiet laugh, "I'm without hope I tell you, without hope. Not a soul in this building will back down an inch." Clara's first comment elicits a rather fuzzily bemused look. Pardon him, he's just disgustingly happy. Do not pay aaaaaany attention to the lovesick lunatic.

Oh, dear. Clara's comment did it, Corian's smile escapes and runs prancing about the room, strewing wildflowers hither and yon. She chases after it and tucks it away, looking sheepish as she realizes just how obvious it was. The flowers kind of gave her away. She doesn't say anything, though. Her hand, attempting to be subtle, moves to re-capture Tarrant's hand.

Clara returns to start sealing up her medical bag and sling it over one shoulder, then steps back and folds her arms to regard you both, not even bothering to hide the smug grin. "Utterly without hope, that's right. So I'll tell you what. I'll leave the invalid in your care, Corian. Don't toss him out the window, please. That'd be a lot harder to fix, and Arthur would hunt me down about the mess."

Tarrant's hand has been tamed, and is by no means difficult to capture, instead interweaving quite happily with Corian's. Tarrant however erks quietly, "Out the window would not be on my to do list, that's for sure. I'll behave, honest."

Corian casts a thoughtful look towards the window, then shakes her head. "He would probably struggle if I attempted that," she advises Clara. "That would be somewhat distressing." After a pause, she adds, "Clara, could he possibly eat something more substantial than applesauce? I was not thinking anything extreme, but real food might be beneficial."

Clara blinks several times, then turns back to snatch up the chart in the small holder on the wall by the door and glance it over before groaning. "Vryce. He's a dead man. Yes, of -course-. He should have been eating real food since yesterday." She gives Tarrant a look of utter abashment. "What would you like?"

Tarrant brings up his other hand to ruffle idly through his hair, half sitting up now that it's much easier, un-encumbered by tubery, wireage, and cortrazime. "It can wait, it can wait, please, don't worry about me any." He's a southerner, he is usually far too proud and far too embarrassed to ask for help or random feedings. If politeness requires acceptance, he'll ask for water. It's in the -rules-.

Clara rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "Corian? What does he like?"

Corian just looks at Tarrant for a moment, then shakes her head, with an ominous-sounding murmur in an obscure-sounding language. Turning back to Clara, she's pleasantness personified as she suggests, "Would grilled cheese sandwiches be too difficult? Honestly, I believe he should be hungry enough for real food by this point to eat whatever is brought."

Clara executes a dip of a curtsy, an extraordinarily odd gesture from a woman in scrubs and hair going every which direction after being freed from a skullcap. About-facing, she heads out the door, only to be gone for perhaps twenty minutes.

Clara leaves the room.

Clara has left.

Tarrant is sheepishness personified. Baaaa. He needs to get a perm. But really, there are these rules. Surely they don't only exist in Georgia? His player is starting to get paranoid.

Corian fears the very thought of a bepermed Tarrant. "I know you don't like asking," she observes, "But in this case, it is necessary, yes? You -do- need to eat, after all."

"I'm not the only one who ought to eat," Tarrant offers by way of return, but he does not protest the necessity of food.

Corian doesn't protest her own need to eat, though she adds, "I am not the one who is recovering, Tarrant."

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

Corian casts a glance at you. You're awake. Apparently, you get to do the honors.

Tarrant calls, "C'min."

Clara comes in from the Housing Hub.

Clara has arrived.

Tarrant is still looking sheepish, perm or not, the phrase 'terribly embarrassed' comes to mind in fact.

Corian hasn't really moved that much in twenty minutes. Imagine that. She's still in the chair, still holding Tarrant's hand. She offers a pleasant smile to Clara.

Clara nudges her way in carefully, a tray held in both hands and sporting a plethora of sandwiches, all vegetarian, a tray of sliced raw veggies and dip, a pot of tea, and a batch of sugar cookies. "Dinner enough for you both," she explains, settling it on the bedside table. "And no arguing...or would you like me to take your sugar count, young lady?" she adds to Corian, grinning.

That last admonition on Clara's part banishes the worst of Tarrant's embarrassment, and now he simply looks amused. Funny, he was just saying... Anyhow. "Thank you Clara for your care."

Corian blinks at Clara, innocence overlaying that pleasant smile. "That is unnecessary, Clara," she replies smoothly, likely because she knows just what it would be. "And, yes, thank you very much. This is most appreciated."

Clara steps back to reclaim her medical bag, then pauses to regard you both with a faint smile. "Is it safe to leave you two to take care of each other now? Of course, as always, if there's -anything- wrong, comm me. Middle of the night or no."

Tarrant can't help it, he reaches to swipe a sugar cookie. Yes, it's cheating. He does it anyway. "I think we can manage, yes, mrrrm."

Corian casts an amused look at Tarrant--but, hey, he's eating. She's not going to complain. "We'll be just fine," she reassures. "Thank you, Clara."

Clara grins at Corian, then casts a quick wink at Tarrant, and turns about to leave once more, this time humming cheerfully to herself. Likely something by that dead guy.

Clara leaves the room.

Clara has left.

Corian takes up a few carrots and starts to nibble on them, before she can be told to eat yet again. "Well," she says, after a moment of eating. "That was certainly profitable, even though you will not be able to leave until tomorrow."

Tarrant looks a bit sheepish still, but finishes off the cookie, shifting around to sit cross-legged, almost normal of movement. "I'm sorry about that, she did say if I'd behaved... I guess not all of me behaved as well as I'd intended."

Corian shakes her head at that. "There is no need to apologize, Tarrant. You could hardly control what she was going to say, after all." She gently nudges one of the plates of sandwiches towards you, taking more of the vegetables, then adds, after a brief pause, "And I will stay here again, if you like."

Tarrant reaches to pick up a sandwich, the movement made somewhat hesitant by your last comment. "Are you altogether sure of that? I mean, that chair cannot be as comfortable as your own bed."

"It is not, of course," Corian replies pleasantly. "But I have also slept in places far less comfortable, and somewhat more comfortable than this chair. Little is spared for the diplomats, after all." After a brief pause, she adds, a bit more quietly, "And I would rather be here, if you do not mind too much."

Tarrant shakes his head quickly to the question, "I would really rather have you here most certainly. I...even were the situation not what it was, I would much rather be in your presence than out of it."

Corian smiles at that, though it takes her a moment to answer--she's eating, that's it. "Well, then," she says. "It is settled, I shall stay." After all, this isn't the first time that you and she have slept together. "I want you to be able to sleep well, after all, and since the door has no lock, I will have to do." That last is said with a hint of tired whimsy.

Tarrant munches absently at the sandwich for a while. He's an omnivore, but at this rate he'll end up as vegetarian as you are. "You I trust...a partner. Better than locks is backup. Besides...even if there was a lock, it would be far nicer to have you here than to have you gone." There's a pause, and here's proof that Tarrant is still heavly drugged, aside from the widened pupils. "If you'd rather though than that chair, there's enough bed up here for a half dozen people, you'd be altogether safe from me, I promise."

Okay, Corian actually stops eating, at that, to consider your words--and to stuff that blush into a little box. "It is not that I am worried about safety," she says slowly. "But... well, this is all very new to me, van'chela. I am altogether uncertain what is done." She does, however, flick a glance between the bed and the couch, as if she's considering it.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant looks exceptionally sheepish as well, considering the bed. "I honestly don't know either. I've never done this either. But I do know this bed has to be a lot better than the chair. Consider it two beds, or camping in sleeping bags. Just a more comfortable situation s'all."

Corian eyes the bed for a moment. "It would be more comfortable," she agrees, albeit with some visible hesitation. "We shall see, when it is time to sleep." Though, from her manner, that time is going to be soon.

Tarrant finishes off the sandwich, dusting lightly at his fingers, "Or," he suggests amiably, "-I- could sleep in the chair now that I'm not all be-tubed."

Corian shakes her head firmly at that. "No, I do not think that would be appropriate. You are, after all, still the patient."

Tarrant settles back again onto the bed, eyes half-closing, "However you're most comfortable. S'all I want, is for you to be comfortable."

Corian polishes off half a sandwich, to get carbohydrates without risking the evil of those sugar cookies. She regards you for a moment, then says softly, "I will be fine, Tarrant. Why don't you sleep, hmm?"

Tarrant sinks down into a pillow, very carefully moving to the farthest edge of the bed possible, leaving an entire sea of unused beddage. Tugging up the blanket he simply nods, obviously very tired indeed. "Good idea, really good idea. G'night. Please don't let this be not real."

Corian peers at the sea for a moment, looking for a moment like she's going to protest. Of course, you've got your eyes closed, so you can't -see- that. But... you're so far -away-, that's not good. But... to get closer, she has to get on the bed, and that's not right. It's a dilemma. It's a sticky problem. After a moment, she shakes her head fractionally, and moves to unfold the chair to its full length. She can only handle so much change in one day, after all; admitting that she loved you was difficult enough.

Tarrant doesn't sleep immediately however, just watching you, although he's having trouble indeed keeping his eyes open, and they're closed as often as they are open. That massive amount of distance is obvious to him as well. Eventually, tentatively, he edges back to the other side, moving to the exact opposite of the bed, still leaving a huge amount of it for use, but this way he's closer to you.

Corian offers you a tired smile as you shift closer. "I do not know why it matters to me," she says slowly, "But it does." Smile turning wryly humorous, she adds, "Perhaps it is so that I can say 'no', if Hona asks if we have slept together." Oh, she's definitely tired. It takes a beat for her to realize what she said, but she only shakes her head, her hand edging towards the bed, and your hand. Yes... it's a stealth attack!

Tarrant gives you a rather sleepy smile, chuckling quietly. "S'long as you're here." His hand seeks out yours, albeit clumsily, seeking reassurance of your presence.

Corian uses Milian when she speaks, though it's flavored with a Kashidian accent, rather an odd combination, and a sure sign of her fatigue. "I am here," she reassures. "Why don't you try to sleep, Tarrant? I will be here."

"You sleep too," Tarrant attempts to assert, but he's pretty much out even as he says it. His body is charging tax on the various activities involved, and now it's come to demand that tax be paid.

Corian watches you for perhaps ten minutes, gray eyes barely open, then finally allows herself to drift off to sleep as well.


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