4/15/99

Corian doesn't sleep. She's wide awake, in fact, the chair returned to its full, upright, and locked position. No, she never moved over to the bed last night, of course not. She watches you, a faint smile on her face.

Tarrant does however sleep, off and on, most of the morning. He may not be wired to cortrazime anymore, but sleeping excessively still seems to be in the cards. Eventually he does however stir into something approaching wakefulness, blinking at his surroundings and attempting to process where and when he is, "Morning," he eventually decides.

Corian shakes her head at that, with a rather pleased smile. You're talking, that's a good sign. "Actually, it is afternoon, van'chela, if barely so. Did you sleep well?"

Tarrant brings up one hand to rub at his eyes, trying to clear up sleep fogged vision, "Yeah, thanks. Perhaps sleeping too much, but well. And you?"

Corian nods cheerfully enough. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze before getting up to get some water--see, she's not even going to ask, this time. "I slept very well, yes. How are you feeling?"

"A little sore," Tarrant watches you getting up, still working on real coherancy a step at a time. "But far less drugged, so a fair trade off in my book." He half shifts, propping againt a pillow and ruffling one hand through his hair thoughtfully.

Corian returns with a bottle in each hand. Perching lightly on the seat, she offers you one of the bottles. "Is there anything else that you would like? And please don't be overly polite about it, van'chela--I do not -mind- getting things for you."

Tarrant accepts the bottle of water with murmured thanks, shaking his head. "No, but thank you, water's a wonderful thing. I'm not awake enough for anything else just yet." He takes a sip of said water.

Corian folds her legs lotus-style, decidedly rumpled by now. "There is plenty of time for you to become more awake," she replies equably. "And perhaps Clara will let you leave today, which will be pleasant."

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

Tarrant isn't exactly un-rumpled himself, between his clothes and the still somewhat ragged nerves of being -in- this situation, even if it does come along with the woman he loves as a side item. "That'd be nice indeed." He stifles a yawn, "Getting out would be..." He trails off at the knock.

Tarrant calls, "Come in."

Clara comes in from the Housing Hub.

Clara has arrived.

"Speak of the devil," Tarrant murmurs, looking rather decidedly, if still somewhat sleepily, amused. "Good afternoon, n'all." He half reaches up, as if tipping a hat he's not wearing. Tarrant and his amazing imaginary headgear.

Corian is, naturally, still perched in that chair, legs folded lotus-style. "Good afternoon, Clara," she says pleasantly. "You have excellent timing."

Clara lets herself in, having taken the time to pull up a cheerful smile, and ready to exert more evil on the general populus. No, no need to thank her, it's what she's here for. "Hello, hello, hello. Of course I have good timing. It's what they pay me for. I'm the devil, though?"

"Well, no, not unless you've got some sort of standardized fill in the bubble test you require folks to take to get out of here," Tarrant answers in only somewhat snozzled amiability.

Corian gently pokes Tarrant's arm, looking rather amused as she adds, to Clara "Of course you aren't--but the test would certainly count for evil points."

Clara pretends to hold a stack of paperwork, and gives the imaginary stack a mournful look. "Just a few questions? It's just a short form..." The invisible papers get tossed over one shoulder as she grins and leans against the railing at the foot of the bed. "Two questions before you can go. Do you hurt? And do you think you can walk?"

"A little sore, but far less evilly drugged, seems like a fair trade off to me." Tarrant replies, levering himself rather carefully upright. "And I walked -up- here, seems to me I can probably manage walking out of here." This last is said with an amused grin, "As long as you've not been injecting more boiled owls into my veins?"

Corian tucks her hands in her lap as Tarrant shifts upright. She's not going to help, going to let him do this on his own. At the last, however, she chuckles quietly. "Somewhere, they likely do boil owls. I will have to find out where."

Clara can't help but burst into laughter at that, shaking her head as she extracts a hypo from her coat pocket with a flourish. "Brought you a general, lowlevel painkiller. Should make moving about for today easier. After that...fly free, oh sozzled owl. You're released." She makes a face at Corian and shudders. "Why would someone want to boil an owl?"

"I think I want that on a button," Tarrant murmurs, looking excessively amused as he carefully shifts his feet over the side of the bed. "Fly free, oh sozzled owl...Released is a really good thing. Are you going to clip a radio collar on me?"

Corian casts an amused smile at Clara, murmuring, "Odder things have been done, in the name of fine cuisine--though that, of course, is relative." She finally does get to her feet, now, absently straightening her rather rumpled shirt as she walks around the bed to the side from which Tarrant is disembarking.

Clara administers the hypo swiftly before slipping the spent cartridge back into her pocket, laughing easily despite the faint circles under her eyes. "I'll see what I can do. Do you -want- a radio collar? I'm sure I can fashion something out of one of my remote monitors. Measures heartrate, and things like that," she explains with complete innocence.

"Nah, wouldn't really do you any good unless there were a bunch of me. Then you could chart migrating patterns." Tarrant slides carefully from the bed to his feet, most of his concentration on that effort. Well, his knees don't buckle, that's a good thing at least. He does however lean against the bed for balance just yet, falling over would be highly embarrassing.

Corian watches Tarrant carefully, a hint of concern in her expression. She doesn't suggest that he be tossed back in the bed for another day, though, lest she bring his wrath to bear upon her. She does, however, move a step closer, though her hands are still at her sides. The exchange between the two gets a brief, amused smile.

"Dizziness is to be expected," Clara notes reassuringly, not moving forward to assist, but rather staying where she is leaned against the railing on the bed, seemingly relaxed. "I'd like to check on you later this evening, would that be acceptable?" She glances at Corian as well to include her in the question.

Tarrant doesn't really have much to say at this point, the bulk of his effort is on not falling over. He does nod however, adding, "Doesn't bother me any."

Corian's brows lift fractionally. Looking a bit puzzled by her inclusion, she says, "Of course, of course. Whatever you find necessary, Clara."

Clara finally moves forward to assist Tarrant from one side, chuckling. "Okay, so maybe walking isn't the best of ideas. I'll help get you as far as...the broom closet?" she asks, almost dismayed, although whether at the location or the quality is debatable.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant shakes his head in a fairly quick gesture, "I can make it on my own, really. It's just a couple of halls over."

Corian just shakes her head at that. "Tarrant," she says, voice as patient and pleasant as ever. She's not exasperated, really. "Do let Clara help you. You look like you're having a difficult time merely standing." Gray eyes flicking towards Clara, she inquires, with a hint of concern, "Will he be all right in his... er, room?"

Clara rolls her eyes and shakes her head, moving to pulls a wheelchair from the closet, unfold it, and roll it over next to Tarrant. "Sit," she commands, then gives Corian a wistful shrug. "Honestly? It's a dank cell, practically. I'd really rather he were someplace at least with hot water."

Tarrant looks rather sheepish indeed, but sinks down into the chair as per command. "I fetch too," he murmurs half-absently, almost to himself.

Corian, after a brief, amused smile for Tarrant's comment, suggests slowly to Clara, "He could stay with me. I certainly have hot water, and cooking facilities, besides."

Clara can't help but grin as well, gently squeezing her patient's shoulder before tilting her head at Corian. "That's your choice, Corian. Caring for someone recovering from a plasma wound isn't easy... Tarrant? What do you think? Would you be willing to settle in her quarters until you're up and about?"

"I don't wanna bother anybody," Tarrant is looking rather sheepish indeed at Clara's warning to Corian, "Howbout I just harrass the powers that be about getting the room changed?"

Corian inclines her head to Clara, with a quick smile. At Tarrant's words, her brows lift fractionally. "Did you not say that you have been attempting to get the room changed? If something more can be accomplished..." She shakes her head. "You should be where you are most comfortable, of course, Tarrant, but your current quarters seem somewhat less than suitable."

Clara folds her arms and steps back slightly, dryly noting, "While Maintenance is filled with wonderful people, you need to be somewhere suitable with in about fifteen minutes, Tarrant. Now, the two of you decide, please? Or I move Tarrant onto the couch in my quarters and watch Riley go ballistic," she adds, obviously teasing.

"Been trying, yeah, for several months." Tarrant replies absently, "They don't pay attention to me." Attention must be paid! "I just don't want to make -you- uncomfortable, Corian."

Corian's gaze snaps to Clara at the mention of her brother. "That would be unnecessary, Clara," she says smoothly. Her eyes shifting back to Tarrant, she replies, "I would rather have you in comfort, Tarrant. All will be well."

Clara looks from one to the other, then sighs faintly, closing her eyes just a moment to bite back a comment that nudges up borne by weary concern, then manages another warm smile. "If it would be easier, Tarrant's quarters will be acceptable. Shall we?"

Tarrant is really between several rocks and a hard place on this one, isn't he. He just nods, what he's nodding to he's not sure, but if he just agrees with these people maybe he gets to lie back down, oooh, or find real clothes, now that would be a miracle indeed.

After another moment of hesitation, Corian apparently comes to a decision. With a smile to the others, she inquires, "It is not much farther to my quarters, yes? Why do we not go there?" She reaches to put a gentle hand on Tarrant's shoulder. "It will be fine," she reassures quietly.

Clara's lips quirk in a faint smile as she moves behind the wheelchair to push it towards the door with an air of relief. "Decision made. No more arguing, Tarrant, or I inject you with more sozzled owl. Corian? Would you get the door, please?"

Tarrant isn't arguing, or making any objections, he's just along for the ride at this point, half-sozzled himself, with no owls. "No arguing, gotcha."

Corian, after a smmile to the others, moves to open the door as directed. She doesn't leave just yet, though, as she's going to wait til all the idling is complete.

Clara wheels Tarrant through the open door without speaking, easily lost in thought.

[Travelspam deleted.]

Corian's portable computer is off, but he still just -radiates- irritation. He doesn't appreciate being neglected for this long, and, boy, Corian's going to get an earful of complaint when she turns him on. For now, though she just gives it a pat as she passes, moving to get the screen blocking the bed out of the way. Yes, the bed is neatly made.

Clara fairly well ignores the computer. It's not within her realm of patient diagnosis. As the screen is moved aside, she pushes the chair forward to the bed, bringing it to a halt to one side. "Okay, here we go. Time to rest again. He's going to need a lot of rest," she adds to Corian quietly.

Uh-oh, the bed is being un-hidden, Tarrant is most assuredly going to object to -that-. Putting a lady out of her bed is just 'Not Done'. "Umm, there's a couch," he points out rather quietly, not really good at full scale protest right now.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian nods to Clara, absently settling the screen against the wall and moving to offer what help she may. "Of course, of course. That makes perfect sense." Tarrant gets a serenely pleasant smile. "You are most perceptive, van'chela. There is also a bed, which you will please me by using, yes?"

Clara simply shrugs at Tarrant, waggling her brows at him briefly with a grin. "Don't look at me. I'm not going to argue with her. She's bigger than I am."

It doesn't look like he's getting out of this, Tarrant just sets about levering himself out of the chair, reconciled to his fate. "Need ta' smack maintenance with a fish..."

Corian, nearby to assist where she can, maintains her serene smile, though there's perhaps a gleam of amusement in her eyes. "If that would make you happy, Tarrant," she murmurs. "But why don't you wait a day or so, all right? I will have to locate a fish, you see."

"I'd suggests tuna. Big, happy, colorful fish. Stink up maintenance to high heaven. Just don't tell Arthur I suggested it, or he'd set me on fire," Clara explains with a grin, pushing the chair to one side to be out of the way. "Well now...anything else I can do?"

Tarrant settles down into the bed, any potential additional protests stilled by the fact that lying down is a wonderful thing, and beds are wonderful, and the world has suddenly improved as a place. "That'd be terribly rude, for him to set people on fire. If a fish would make them fix my closet, though."

Corian shakes her head to Clara, with a smile. "You've been wonderful, thank you. Is there anything in particular that I can do for him, though? Since he seems less than likely to tell me these things."

Clara slips her hands into her coat pockets, lips quirked as she shakes her head amiably. "He needs to eat real food, rest a lot, and stay calm. Otherwise, torture him as usual. He should be back to normal in a few days. Call me if you need anything, any time of day at all."

Tarrant doesn't seem to object to the fact that he's being talked around, rather than to, instead simply half drowsing and muttering to himself about owl boiling and fish beating.

Corian casts a look of fond amusement to Tarrant, then murmurs, with all apparent seriousness, "So I suppose running that marathon is unlikely." Still deadpan, she adds, "Thank you very much for all your help, Clara. I will certainly comm you if something is needed."

Clara nods approvingly, then offers a smile of parting to both. "Take care then. I'll check back in this evening." And with that, she turns to go, letting herself out the door.

Clara leaves the room.

Clara has left.

Corian surveys the room for a moment, then moves to snag her desk chair, shifting it closer to the bed, providing a handy place to sit. She eyes her terminal, but, no, she can tell that it's going to be annoyed with her. She's going to leave it off for now. So she just settles into the chair, watching you with a slight smile.

Tarrant is still attempting to reclaim the coherancy lost in the trip, eyes only half open, "Sorry about all this, I really am..."

Corian shakes her head, reaching to locate your hand. "There is no need to be sorry, Tarrant. I am glad to have you here. Now... is there anything you would like me to get for you from your quarters? Clean clothing, perhaps?"

Tarrant's hand is fairly easy to locate, as it's absently seeking yours. Finding yours it's much happier. "Clothes would be wonderful, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. And the stuff from my coffee table? It's just my real watch, and the puzzle box, stuff I didn't want to risk losing on the trip."

Corian chuckles very quietly. "I would not ask if I thought it would be too much trouble." She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, then gets to her feet. "Is there anything else that should be done, while I'm out and about? I am going to stop downstairs and get messages, but it should not take too long."

Tarrant shakes his head slightly, "Commed work the first night, the only people who'd really wonder where I was. Figure I'll comm Maintenance again, habit and all, but that's it."

Corian regards you for a moment, then inquires, "Could you wait a few hours on that? Or perhaps could you let me talk to them?" With a faint, apologetic smile, she adds, "You do not look especially... confidence-inspiring, I am afraid."

Tarrant chuckles softly, smiling fondly at you, "You mean I look scruffy, hm? Yeah, I can wait. I have to admit, as much as I'd really rather not be intruding into your home, I'm not in a trrible hurry to flee. It's got you everywhere in it. Wonderful place to be."

Corian does not, it may be noted, use the phrase 'scruffy midget'. Smile warming, she reaches down to touch your hand for a moment, saying, "Well, then, it should keep you company while I am gone--and I will be back as quickly as I can. If you need anything while I am gone, though, you will comm me, yes?"

Tarrant nods, rather half-sleepily, "Yeah, I will. Thank you, Corian. I appreciate all of this, more'n I can say."

Corian says softly, "You are most welcome, Tarrant." She smiles, then. "Now rest well--I will return soon." And with that, she exits the room, before you can say anything else to make her wish she could stay.

Tarrant watches you leave, watching the door a moment before closing his eyes to doze.

[Time passes.]

Corian finally comes back into the room, bearing clothing and messages and other happy stuffs. She moves quietly, just on the off chance that you're asleep.

Corian finally comes back into the room, bearing clothing and messages and other happy stuffs. She moves quietly, just on the off chance that you're asleep.

Tarrant is half-asleep, having been using the time in between to good purpose by dozing, but he's been listening for the sound of the door, and shifts as you enter. "Hey there, o lovely lady."

Corian smiles pleasantly enough as she crosses to the bed, tucking your clothing somewhere convenient and dropping her messages atop her poor, neglected computer. (It gives her the evil eye.) "I am sorry that I took so long, but one of my messages required a conversation with a few people." She's pleasant, she's generally pleasant, but she's rather thoughtful, as well.

"Nothing's wrong I hope?" Tarrant questions, sounding rather concerned despite his still somewhat muzzy state. He shifts, moving to sit upright carefully.

Corian shakes her head quickly to that, snagging an extra pillow to tuck under you as you sit up, should you desire that. "Oh, no, nothing is wrong at all. I have merely been offered additional employment."

Tarrant blinks at the pillow be-tucking, but offers a thankful smile, working carefully on his balance a scrap at a time. You brought in clean clothes, he's danged well going to figure out walking long enough to get clean and changed dangitt. He is however brought up somewhat short by that last, "Additional employment?"

Corian looks almost amused. Rummaging for one of a few papers, she observes, "The Sectassians have come up with an a solution of their own to Xalin's difficulties. They would like me to assist in the teaching, at the younglings' school. Saaranus... well, he attempted to be persuasive, rather than imperious, which was a pleasant surprise. I suspect Ximena had a hand in that."

Tarrant grins rather brightly at that, looking altogether amused. "It sounds like an amusing job opportunity certainly. Do you have any interest in such? Do your current contractual obligations interfere?" He shifts his legs over the bed, carefully resting bare feet on the floor. "Persuasive?"

Corian's manner is still amused. "It's been ages since I taught," she replies, a hint of wistfulness in her voice, "Nearly five years. I would like to do so, I think. Saaranus has said that he will... mmm, pull some strings, if I agree to take the job. Sectas is not a major power, of course, but Saaranus tends to forget that." She moves to where she can catch you, should that become necessary, though her manner is as easygoing as ever. "He was most polite, though, when he spoke with me."

"If he can do so then, it sounds like a wonderful opportunity. Certainly the kids adore you, but then who can blame them." Of course Tarrant's more than half kid himself. "May I beg a favor? Can I borrow your shower and hence avail myself of the clean clothes you brought?" He brushes lightly at the jeans he's wearing, stained as they are with someone elses's blood. "I would appreciate being able to do so."

Corian nods firmly to that. "Of course, Tarrant. You need not ask. Do you need assistance getting there?" No, she's not offering to help with the shower. The thought doesn't even cross her mind, else she'd be all kinds of festive colors. "And... yes, it would be a good opportunity. I will have to think on it."

"I think I can make it. It's not very far. I appreciate the offer though. If I need help though, I will ask, I am learning." Tarrant half-grins rather sheepishly as he carefully levers himself to his feet, using the wall to steady himself. "Thinking is a very profitable activity certainly, and it sounds like it would be a lot of fun certainly, which is important, that you should enjoy what you do."

Corian reaches instinctively towards you, but stops as you steady yourself. "You are learning," she replies, expression fondly amused. "And I will think while you get yourself cleaned up, to be more efficient."

Tarrant continues to use the wall, and various furniture items to maintain balance, heading to and scooping up his clothes. Smiling somewhat absently, as most of his concentration is on not falling flat he replies, "Efficency is good. As are having employment options." Using the wall as half a prop he heads towards the bathroom, "Thank you for the loan of your hot water, I shall return shortly."

Corian inclines her head, watching you with a hint of concern. "Do be careful, van'chela."

Tarrant nods to that, moving into the other room. Since no crashing sounds ensue, he's probably managing. The sounds of water running kick in after several long moments.

Corian takes advantage of your absence to turn on her computer. It's pissed, and it makes sure she knows that, making all kinds of disturbing pinging and ponging and twinging and twanging noises at her. With a sigh, she turns down the volume.

Tarrant is gone for a while, returning at last in clean clothes, and with towel dried hair. He looks a good deal less scruffy, although a good deal more worn out as well. Carefully he settles the battered clothes where the clean ones had been placed, and sets about working his trek backwards, weight against the wall. "I'd forgotten water could -be- hot. Very nice. Thank you."

Corian gets to her feet and moves to assist you, and never mind that you didn't ask for the help. This way, she can make sure you end up on the bed as well, rather than on the couch. "You are most welcome. I am glad that you enjoyed it."

Tarrant doesn't seem to object to the aid, although a mildly amused look at the direction chosen would imply he'd intended to seek out the couch. Murmuring his thanks he sinks back down onto the bed as it's reached, shifting to lie down. "It's been a while since I've had a hot shower. That hotel we stayed in on Triglant."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian shakes her head as she perches on her chair, absently reaching to tap a few keys on her computer, bringing a halt to the irritably flashing lights. "You should have had better quarters well before then," she says. "Why in the world is Maintenance taking so long, do you know? They seemed very efficient, when I had to deal with them."

"I honestly don't know. The Department doesn't have much pull I guess," Tarrant looks far more Tarrantian in a denim jacket and buttondown. He half shifts, lying down but regarding you with his head pillowed on one jacketed arm. "Your computer's mad at you?"

Corian, it should be noted, does keep her quarters somewhat warmer than the rest of the Complex. Skinny people get cold quickly, that sort of thing. "I could make some inquiries, if you like, and see if I can assist in that? And... yes, he's rather annoyed. I don't usually leave him alone for so long." She casts an amused look at the machine, which is now flickering a sullen yellow. "He'll sulk for a while, but he'll be better in a few hours."

"Would it help if I apologized to him?" And Tarrant probably appreciates that warmth. He may not be skinny, but he dislikes the cold. "I don't want you to have to worry about it. The place I have isn't gonna kill me any. I've stayed in less pleasant places."

Corian shakes her head in answer to the question, looking amused. "He'll recover, but thank you. And I'm going to worry about it whether you like it or not," she adds, still rather amused. "It may not kill you, you may have had worse, but you -should- have better."

Tarrant chuckles softly, too comfortable and weary to object to this. "I'm sure it can be sorted out. There has to be some magic button to press."

Corian nods her agreement to that, settling comfortably in the chair. "The question is which particular button that is." After a brief pause, she inquires, "Are you hungry, Tarrant? We have plenty of food in the kitchen."

Tarrant starts by habit to shake his head in a negative, but looking sheepish he murmurs, "Something to eat would be wonderful." He mmrhmrms, "How do -normal- people get rooms?"

Corian smiles approvingly as she notes your correction, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as she gets to her feet. "I'll spare you deciding what to eat, if you like? And I'm not altogether sure how normal people get rooms. I could ask my brother to speak with the Maintenance Chief for you?" Her tone holds a hint of humor, at that.

"I'd appreciate that. I don't think making decisions would be really easy right now. Things are still kind of fuzzy," Tarrant answers, sounding rather decidedly grateful. That last garners a snicker, "Now while that would probably -work-, it would probably be bad. I can see it, 'Hi, I know this assassin. They stuffed him into a hot waterless closet. Could you ask the maintenance folks to switch that around?"

Corian's quiet laughter sounds from the kitchen area, along with rustling and rattling that herald her food-preparation. "I would not phrase it in quite that manner, Tarrant," she chides lightly. "Riley would be a bit disturbed by that, I surmise."

"The idea's there though," Tarrant answers, curled comfortably on one side, a relaxed puddle of denim and clean. He's happy. "Not only is it inconveniencing you, it's confusing to him."

Corian comes back through with a few bowls of the vegetable stew she served several nights past. It doesn't require any form of cutting, and the bowls are very deep, to prevent random spillage, which is likely why she chose the particular meal. She's also got iced tea. Yes, she's got a tray, she's not sprouted extra hands. "I'm sorry, I did not quite catch that last bit?"

Tarrant shifts up from his be-puddled state, sitting up with care. Using the headboard for support he even manages to remain that way despite his rather more out of itness. "An inconvenience for you, and confusing to him, and I don't want you having to endure questions and all."

Corian takes off her own food and puts it somewhere she can reach it easily, then settles the tray on the bed, folding out nifty little leg-things so that it can rest over your lap. She's prepared. "I do not believe that Riley would ask too many questions," she says thoughtfully. "Though he would, of course, be somewhat confused." Shoulders lifting gracefully, she says, "I doubt that such extreme measures will be necessary, though."

Tarrant looks rather sheepish, "Thank you, I really appreciate this. Food is a good thing." Carefully he sets about his meal, eyes all but glazing. Hot water, real food, he's most assuredly a tame assassin now. "All things in moderation, certainly. Well, at least when it comes to attempting to acquire housing."

Corian watches you with amusement, though she certainly eats. She's hungry, after all. "You're most welcome, but I did not actually do much, Tarrant. We can see about your housing situation tomorrow, perhaps, once we've had a bit of time to recover from your unfortunate incarceration?" Her tone is rather whimsical.

Tarrant eats with methodical care, he doesn't wish to appear rude, but he's hungry as well, and soup is -good-. He's starting to sound a bit out of it however as he replies, "Yeah, tomorrow, recovering... Time's good. Just feel bad about stealing your bed."

Corian shakes her head, keeping an eye on your bowl, lest you lose your grip on it in your out-of-it-ness. "There is no need to worry about that, Tarrant. As you have said in the past, my couch is a very kind one. Just relax, all is well."

Tarrant settles the bowl very carefully on the tray, suddenly quite aware of how gone he is. His eyes are half-closed, settled as he is against the pillowage, he's half-asleep already. "Yeah, kind, all's well...Love you."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian carefully takes up the tray, so you can recline fully. "I love you, too," she replies softly. "Sleep well."

Tarrant does indeed shift down, although it's certainly not a conscious effort. He curls down into a half-sprawled position, far more relaxed than he was downstairs, innocent and altogether without care in sleep.


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