4/24/99

Corian does arrive, now, really. She's got a bag over one shoulder that is somewhat less beat-up than the one she took on her last trip. The lines of her face are drawn (aiee, someone drew lines on her face!) but she seems very, very awake. She comes lightly into the room, on the off chance that you're sleeping, and tucks her bag by the desk.

Tarrant is sprawled on the couch, not quite asleep, but not quite awake. The place shows no signs of his having inhabited, besides his presence and the datapad next to the couch. He looks more or less up as the door opens, shifting from mostly asleep with a decided smile of welcome. "Hello love, was the trip okay?"

Corian pauses a beat in a start of surprise. "You moved." Mr. Perception, Sam-I-Am. See, she hadn't actually focused enough to see you. Once she gets over that initial surprise, though, she smiles and moves over to perch on whatever of the couch isn't taken up by your sprawl. "The trip was horrible," she replies candidly. "But it is over. How are you?" She fidgets lightly with the lower buttons of her shirt, fingers ever in motion.

Tarrant shifts back as much as he can, to allow room on the couch but without actually pulling his knee off of it. "I figured moving was good. Made the bed and all, I intended to head downstairs, so you could have your place to yourelf when you got back, but I didn't really make it that far." He finally slides the leg off the couch as well, shifting closer to you. "Horrible?"

Corian rubs at her eyes for a moment, then toys with her necklace. Then, movements slow and deliberate, she places her hands in her lap, a small push at the end of the gesture almost like she's instructing them to stay. "I am glad you did not leave," she replies, with a flickering-quick smile. "For I would have been somewhat disconcerted not to have you here." She eyes the off-the-couch'd leg and inquires, "Should you be doing that yet?" There's a brief pause, and then she nods, her explanation rather rattling-quick. "I am never a fan of hyper. The kind Jansites did not tell me that their Premier's meeting was on Edor, or that there was such haste. And the meeting itself seemed like it would never end. And Edori cuisine," she adds, with a faint grimace, "Never does sit well with me."

Tarrant shifts slightly closer to you, shifting an arm around you, hesitance returned as he doesn't know if you'd appreciate it while feeling rough. "Sounds like you could probably use a good long nap, love. Maybe a nice long shower." He regards the knee, "Well Clara didn't say not to. It has been pretty much a day. Besides, I can't sit closer to you with it in the way."

And with your arm around her, you're probably somewhat more likely to notice Corian's extreme keyed-up-ness, though she does -look- like she could stand a nap. She only smiles at you, though, inquiring, "Clara was here? Good, that was kind of her to visit you. I am glad you did not have to spend the whole day alone. She leans lightly against you, but only for a moment. She's too fidgety to remain still for long. "I did try to change the date of this trip, cha'trez, but the Jansites said that it had to be today. Lovely people," she adds, with a note of irony.

Tarrant shakes his head slightly, "No, she didn't come by, although she did comm a little bit ago." He regards you at length a moment, brows lifted in concern, "Are you okay love? You're more jittery than a long tailed cat in a rocking chair factory."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian, after another quick smile, gets to her feet. "I will be fine, cha'trez. I do, though, find myself in need of some tea. Would you like something, while I am in the kitchen?" And she does manage to stand still while she waits for an answer.

Tarrant shakes his head to the question, still regarding you in a decidedly worried fashion. "No, but thanks, I'm fine. Still, what's gotcha' so jumpy, if I can ask?"

Corian grimaces fractionally before she turns to go into the kitchen. "A stimulant," she replies. "I took a bit too much, I believe. If nothing else, it should have worn off somewhat by now, had I taken the proper amount." Tea-making noises sound, and she adds, "Are you sure you would not like anything?"

Tarrant's brows furrow even further at that, "Should you be adding caffiene on top then? Maybe we oughta' give Clara a quick buzz." He mmrhmms, as you cannot see him nod. "I'm sure, I'm just fine."

Corian's tone is wryly amused as she calls, "The tea does not contain caffeine, cha'trez. And Clara does not need to be bothered," she adds. "It will go away in time. The tea will help, very likely." She putters about a bit more, while waiting for the tea to be ready.

Tarrant does not seem particularly reassured, "If you're sure," he temporizes. There's a brief pause, "But if it does not start wearing off soon, perhaps then we should comm her?"

Corian comes back out with her tea, casting a look at you that mingles amusement and exasperation. "If it would make you feel better, cha'trez, of course." She seems to have fun stirring her tea, though. Jingleclinkclinkclinkclink. Tap tap.

Tarrant nods to that, rather emphaticaly. "It would, stims can be evil and vicious things if you're not careful. All kinds of crazy things to your metabolism they can do."

Corian nods as she sits on the couch once more. "I should have been more careful with this one," she says calmly enough, though she's still fidgety. She manages not to spill her tea, though, which is a goodness. "I will certainly remember to be so in the future."

Tarrant reaches over to gently rest a hand on your knee, an attempt at being a comforting, calming, presence. "Poor love, not been your day, has it?

Corian shakes her head at that. She keeps the gesture short, but it's repetetive for a moment before she finally stops it. "It really hasn't. But I'm home, now, and you're here, so my day is infinately better. How was your day? I did not ask that already, did I?"

Tarrant blinks a moment, as if trying to recall. As fast as you're moving, he feels slower than usual. "Um, it was fine. Nothing crazy." He regards you in a decidedly altogether worried fashion.

Corian takes a sip of her tea, then sets aside the mug. After a moment, she picks it up once more, turning it in her hands for a moment. "I have to say, this is an altogether bizarre sensation," she murmurs. Meeting your gaze, she says, "I will be fine, though, cha'trez. Really, I will. There is no need for you to worry."

Tarrant does not appear to be buying this, "I worry though, because I know better. Promise, I took a class on it. As slender as you are, well, having your metabolism thrown into overdrive's probably not healthy."

Corian's brows lift at that. "You took a class on stimulants?" she inquires, sounding rather confusedly fascinated by that particular bit of information. Wrinkling her nose, she adds, "It certainly could not be worse than Edori cuisine, though. Everything has meat. It was rather miserable."

Tarrant shakes his head to the question, looking bemused, "On the effects of various drugs in general. They don't just toss assassins out into the world and say, 'Oh, by the way, kill Bob over there, would you?'" He shakes his head, "The meat won't do you any harm in the long run, Humans and Edreeni both are omnivores. The stim could."

Corian, after another sip, puts down the tea mug and leaves it on the table. Your first words elicit a quiet chuckle. "Well, what I do not eat cannot harm me," she murmurs. "And I have been taking this drug for longer than I have known you, cha'trez. Well--not constantly, of course. That would be rather distressing. It is just a bit too much, no need to worry." She pauses a beat, as if trying to remember if she's said that particular phrase before.

Tarrant mutters something along the lines of this seeming like a good deal too much to him, but he does lay off pestering, if not looking worried. He just shakes his head lightly.

Corian shakes her head at your muttering, and sits back against the couch, closing her eyes. "I did not take that much with me, Tarrant," she explains, over-patiently. Her eyes open again, of course, and she smiles. "See? It is getting better."

Tarrant nods, although he still doesn't look altogether convinced. He doesn't however, add further comment about comming Clara. "That long hot shower'd still seem to be in the cards at some point. The nap suggestion will obviously have to wait."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian's smile is rather wryly amused. "It should, yes," she agrees. "I really would not be able to sleep just now, I am afraid. But the shower... yes, that would be a good idea." She gets to her feet, then, movements at normal speed, but rather carefully so. "I do not know how much patience I will have for a long shower, but the hot water will be good. Will you wait here, rather than fleeing off home?"

Tarrant nods to the question, looking rather bemusedly sheepish. "I don't think fleeing's in the cards." As you get up he carefully shifts the battered knee back up with a mostly withheld wince. "Besides, I want to keep an ear out as long as you're still s'jittery."

Corian leans down to kiss your cheek. Yes, it's a quick kiss, but she'd likely do that quickly even if she weren't still so jittery. "I am fine, cha'trez. It merely takes time to wear off, and then I will be able to sleep. I am very glad that you are staying, though. It is wonderful to have you here." And with that, she snags some more comfortable clothing and ducks (quack) into the bathroom. After a moment or two, shower noises start.

Tarrant allows himself a full blown worried sigh as you exit to the other room, but settles himself more comfortably on the couch.

Corian emerges from the bathroom after perhaps fifteen minutes, hair water-darkened and still rather damp. "Well, now," she says brightly. "That was an adventure." She moves over to perch on the floor in front of the couch, near your head, before you can move your knee again.

Tarrant attempts to move said knee, but is outpaced, he's a lot slower moving than you are. Blinking however he protests quietly, "Now that's not fair love, you've just had an awful trip. You shouldn't hafta' sit on the floor."

Corian shakes her head to that. "I could go sit in the chair, if you would prefer," she replies, "But, well, it is all the way on the other side of the room. Though I suppose I could move it. But, really, the floor is comfortable." Her fingers drum a staccato on the floor, as if to emphasize its comfortableness. Comfortability? Its comfort.

Tarrant shifts his hands to your shoulders instead, gently starting to rub them. "I think Clara said I'd be up and about by tonight. It's tonight, I'm sure sitting normally and up and about are in the same category."

Corian twitches a moment as your hands touch her shoulders, but then she stills once more. She's wound as tightly as a small knight ferret that has just been stuck in a plastic bag and whirled in the air. She inquires, putting a small space between each word, "But does it hurt, still? If it hurts, you likely should not be doing too much."

Tarrant sets about attempting to relieve at least some of that over-tightness, but carefully though, so as not to cause pain to overtaught muscles. "It hurts, but it's not too bad. I'll take another painkiller here in a little bit. That'll make it stop."

Corian glances over her shoulder at that, with a faint smile. "Well, why not take it now? After all, it couldn't hurt." She pauses a beat at her phrasing, then shakes her head. "What was it, every twelve hours? When did you last take one? If you would like something to drink with one, it is easy enough for me to get one." And then she pauses to breathe, or, more likely, to sigh.

"It's been over twelve, but you see, the painkillers have the opposite effect on me the stims have on you." Tarrant's tone is rather sheepish, but his hands continue their work. "And I'd really rather not be knocked for a loop just yet. Although I appreciate it."

Corian leans forward for a moment, resting her head in her hands, then nods. "I rather understand the feeling, yes." Then, as if she really can't help herself, she gets to her feet. Her apologetic smile is half a grimace, but she moves to get her tea. Yeah. That's why she got up for her tea. She walks a complete circle around the table to get to her seat, though, rather than just backtracking a step.

Tarrant was looking worried before, nut now he looks altogether more worried. "Love," he pleads softly, "Please... Let me call Clara."

Corian starts to say something, then checks herself, regarding you for a moment. "If it will make you feel better, cha'trez," she says, with a nod.

Tarrant looks altogether relieved at that, nodding as he rummages in his pocket for his comm unit.

Tarrant says "Clara, ma'am, I hate to pester but...Well I'm going to anyhow. Corian seems to have gotten into a little much in the way of a stimulant." Despite his vaguely flippant words, Tarrant sounds worried, "And with her metabolism..." into his communit.

Corian remains quiet as she listens to the conversation, and relatively still, though her fingers pluck at the hem of her shirt.

Tarrant's communit crackles to life and says "On my... startled, breathless answer,... the..." in Clara's voice.

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

Corian calls, "Come in."

Tarrant is a bit fidgety himself, and all but jumps at Clara's reply, blinking at the comm unit. He doesn't even have a chance to comment of course before Clara's knocking.

Clara enters from the Elevator Lounge.

Clara has arrived.

Corian is perched on the floor near the bit of the couch closest to Tarrant's head, a mug of tea cradled lightly in one hand. She offers a restrained smile, and a murmured, "I do hope it was not a bother, Clara." Her words come slowly, but that seems to be with effort, as if she is preventing them from tumbling out over themselves.

Tarrant is seated on the couch, leg half-propped up, half down as if he were about to slide off it to stand, looking perhaps a bit bewildered. He re-tucks the comm unit in a pocket, "She's jumpier'n a long tailed cat in the proverbial factory of rockers."

Clara hurries in, oddly unkempt for once in sweats and t-shirt, hair loose, and tennis shoes on but not tied. "Oh, Corian," she murmurs, shaking her head as she circles around quickly. "What stimulant did you take, how much, and when?" Tarrant gets a wistful nod. "Thanks for calling me."

Corian moves to put the mug back on the table, fidgeting with it for a moment until it is placed just so. "It was this morning, just before I left," she replies, her speech quickening just a bit. "And it was ev'lis. I have not had a problem with it in the past, Clara. Really. I have been taking it--occasionally--for years."

Tarrant nods to Clara, looking rather sheepish and worried all at once. It's a confusing expression, he didn't mean for it to be, but hey. Concerned, he just pipes down to keep more or less out of the way.

"Ev'lis?" Clara's voice swings up in sudden concern. "Corian, that's -addictive-!" She tugs open her bag to rummage out a scanner and snap it on to start using it. "Well, for humans, at least. I just hope you're not enough human to react that way. How many hyper jumps did you make today? Have you eaten? Tarrant, did she eat when she came home?"

Tarrant shakes his head in brisk negative, "No'm, she just got home."

Corian shakes her head quickly at the a-word. "I am more than half Edreeni, Clara. That is enough. I use it responsibly--really, despite how this looks. I had two jumps today, there and back again." A hobbit's holiday. "Food... mm, no. It was Edori cuisine, Clara. I cannot eat Edori cooking."

Clara sighs softly, well distressed at the readout and just flustered enough to not quite be as professionally calm or walled-in as usual. "I know, mon ami...sorry. I've just seen humans hooked on ev'lis before. Not pretty. Edori...carnivores, right?" she asks, resuming rummaging in the bag for a hypo kit.

Tarrant looks, if possible, even more concerned, and shifts his weight against the couch's arm, carefully twisting sideways to watch the proceedings.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian's shoulders twitch in a brief shudder. "Carnivores, yes," she agrees. "And I did not have an opportunity to attempt to locate anything I could eat. But... Clara, if there were a chance that I would become addicted, I would not have taken the ev'lis in the first place. I did speak with a doctor about it." She pauses. Take a breath. Speak slowly. She offers a faint smile, adding, words coming almost painfully slowly, "I would not be uninformed about something like that."

Clara lays one prepped hypo down, then a second, then a third...she seems to be working out a collection of them. "It's all right, Corian. It just scared me at first," she offers apologetically. "But not eating and two hyperjumps mixed with your already hyped-up metabolism from the genetic cultural mix...bad. Not good. Please, Corian, don't do this again? I give it a half hour before your body temp drops and your insulin goes into overtime. Hypoglycemic reaction. Tarrant, are you staying here tonight?"

Tarrant nods to that question, not even glancing to Corian questioningly first. "Sure as hells am. Not gonna leave her alone after all this mess."

Corian shakes her head at the mention of this happening again. "Of course not, Clara," she starts to say, but then she pauses a beat at Clara's last comment, brows lifting. Tarrant gets a brief, rather grateful smile.

Clara lines up a fifth and final hypo with a faint sigh, then picks up the first pair. "Ready to become a pincushion?" she asks with faint humor, despite the needle-less status of the hypos. "I also have a request, which I promise is for medical purposes..."

Tarrant leans down to stage-murmur to Corian, "This means she's going to ask something scary." See, Corian's not the only translator around!

Corian nods, with a brief, rather wry glance to the row of hypos, then flashes a decidedly amused glance at Tarrant. "I do believe you may be right," she replies, at the same volume. Turning back to Clara, she inquires, "What scary thing do you have to request?"

Clara grins wryly at you both, starting in on the series of nutrients, glucose, and diluted sedative. "Well, I don't know how scary. But certainly not standard medicine. See, Corian, in a half hour to an hour, you're going to swear you're freezing. You're not going to lose motor function, but you certainly aren't going to want to move. At that point, you're going to need help staying warm...and the best way to do that is to have someone larger than you are under a stack of blankets holding you. Which is where you come in," she adds to Tarrant sheepishly, finishing up the hypos along with her speech and blushing madly.

Corian waits patiently while the various hypos are administered, then blinks at Clara's words, her expression a rather odd combination of trepidation and amusement. She doesn't comment, though, instead flickering a brief glance to Tarrant.

Gee, funny, Tarrant doesn't seem to object to that, instead arching his brows in a look that could -almost- be amused if he weren't so concerned. He simply nods, "I think I can help out on that end of things."

Clara nods rapidly, fighting the blush back that fortunately isn't quite the hue of her hair, and stows the spent hypos in her bag before tugging out a small black strip and holding it to Corian. "Very good," she replies. "Go ahead and wear this on your upper arm for tonight. It's adhesive. It'll produce an alarm if your body temp goes dangerously low. Call me -instantly- if it does."

Corian takes the strip with a murmured thankyou. "Of course, Clara. Do you know how long this should last? And will it just be cold?" She doesn't seem all -that- disturbed at the prospect of being cold. After all, look at the treatment...

Clara picks up her scanner from the floor and glances over it again before snapping it off. "I'd say late morning? Early afternoon?" She nods, putting the scanner away. "You may appear to lose consciousness, but still be alert. Stay calm, both of you. It will pass. It's just the body re-regulating the glucose/insulin balance."

The amusement has faded from Tarrant's expression, leaving only the concern, but he nods to the instruction, keeping quiet.

Corian nods slowly to that, now looking perhaps a bit disturbed. "Well," she says, with an attempt at lightness that doesn't quite work, "This will be a fitting end to the day."

Clara zips up the medical bag, then leans back on her heels slightly to give you both a reassuring smile. "Above all, don't worry. Relax. This is temporary and may seem frightening, but it's not dangerous. Just uncomfortable. When you wake, Corian, -eat-. Eat as big a breakfast as you can down, and try to make most of it protein." With these final instructions, she climbs to her feet.

Tarrant offers Clara a decidedly grateful look, nodding. "Thanks for coming Clara."

Corian echoes Tarrant's thankyou, albeit rather quietly. "It is appreciated, yes. Thank you."

Clara reshoulders the bag, smile warming. "My pleasure. Please, contact me if you have -any- concerns at all. I'll scoot now and leave you two if there's nothing else?" Tarrant's knee gets a significant glance.

Tarrant seems to miss the glance altogether, "Any concerns, check. Thank you ma'am."

Corian, on the other hand, does catch the glance. "His knee has been hurting, he said," she reports, "And it has been longer than twelve hours since he last took the pain medication."

Tarrant erks softly, adding on, "It knocks me out. And I was worried about Corian, I didn't want to be knocked out."

Clara raises a brow at Tarrant at the news, then wordlessly turns to set the bag on the desk and works with something inside for a moment before turning back to calmly press a hypo into the side of said knee. She reshoulders the bag, lips quirking in a faint grin. "What else?"

Tarrant winces rather decidedly as the hypo's pressed in, although the expression fades as the drug kicks in. He just shakes his head in a brief negative, not having anything else it seems.

Corian looks just a bit concerned at the wince from Tarrant, but shakes her head as well. "Is that not enough, Clara?" she inquires, a hint of rather wry amusement in her tone.

Clara shrugs with a grin, pushing hair from her eyes. "I'd have to say yes. Then if it is, I'll bid you both goodnight," she offers, and turns to head for the door.

Clara leaves the room.

Clara has left.

Tarrant takes just a moment to catch his breath, then offers a hand. "To bed then?"

Corian nods, looking rather sheepish. She gets to her feet, then takes your hand. "That is probably a good idea, yes," she replies.

Tarrant uses his other hand and the arm of the couch, levering his way to his feet somehow or another. "Everything'll be fine, it has to. It's required by the happy endings comission."

Corian heads towards the bed, nodding slowly. "But it's not dangerous, just uncomfortable, Clara said. I suppose this is one of those things I will laugh about, later in life."

Tarrant limps along after you, rather as slow as your nod. He pauses by the closet he's seen you pull blankets from in the past, tapping on it lightly. "More blankets? Just in case?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian nods once more. "That sounds like an excellent idea, yes." She releases your hand after a brief squeeze to snag a few extra blankets, one of which is her fuzzy comfort-blanket, and another having large blue and red panels. That done, she makes her way to the bed, tucking the extra blankets at its foot, and moves under the covers.

Tarrant makes his way to the other side of the bed, sinking onto it and then levering himself beneath the covers. Carefully he edges his way closer to you, hesitantly offering his arms for warmth and comfort.

Corian, with equal care, edges into your arms, nestling up close against you, careful of the injured knee. "As unpleasant as the rest sounded," she murmurs, "-This- particular aspect of this incident is rather nice."

Tarrant snuggles in all the more closely, settling into a kind of concerned contentment. "I'm hardly going to object to this bit myself." He replies softly, "There is something really wonderful about having you in my arms."

Corian lifts her head long enough that you can see her warm smile--though, perhaps, 'warm' isn't the best of words, in this situation. There's a brief shiver, before she stills once more. "Very nice, yes," she agrees softly. "To be right here, with you. But I'm not going to listen to the Jansites again," she adds.

At the shiver, Tarrant edges in still closer, fumbling to tug up the blankets all the closer and tuck them in around you. "Did they at least say anything about the other job?"

Corian shakes her head. "They said nothing about the other job," she replies, burrowing as closely against you as she can. "Perhaps tomorrow I can pester someone--late tomorrow."

"Late tomorrow," Tarrant echoes softly, bringing his legs up in such a fashion to be mostly curled around you, centering the warmth, and keeping it from escaping. "Maybe try'n get some sleep, love? You've gotta' be tired."

"Very tired," Corian replies, in fact sounding so. "Que dia chato, meu caro." She pauses a beat. "Why in the world... rotten day, very rotten, but you are here, so it is so very much better."

Tarrant brings up one hand from simply holding you to your back, gently rubbing at the small of it. "It's a rotten day, but it's over now. Just go on to sleep, and in the morning it'll be a new day."

Corian murmurs a vague agreement to that. "A new day would be very good," she adds. "Sleep would be better. Thank you, love. Love you, I love you very much."

Tarrant shifts down enough to gently kiss the top of your head, murmuring softly. "Sleep well, oh she who lights my life. I love you too. It's good to have you home."

Corian murmurs, half-asleep, "I'm very glad to be home, cha'trez. Missed you a lot. You're so much better than the Jansites. Don't love the Jansites, though--they're obnoxious." Fortunately, she stops talking at that, perhaps moving closer to sleep.

Tarrant is evil. He hums. Softly, soothingly, nothing catchy, nothing word bringing upping, just softly, and mindlessly, and, miracle of miracles, in tune. His hand still rubs gentle circles at your back as well.

Corian relaxes into sleep, but very gradually--unless you're humming Bolero, at which point she would flee the room, screaming. It takes a lot longer than one pose would ordinarily encompass, but, well, "Corian almost sleeps" would get kind of old after a while. But, eventually, Corian drifts off to sleep, still curled rather tightly against you.

Tarrant doesn't sleep, and he doesn't hum Bolero, he's not -that- evil. He just holds onto you, trying to optimize warmth as the night progresses. At last, well on towards morning, he falls into a half-doze.

Corian wakes up occasionally during the night, and very likely mentions the need for those additional blankets you suggested--especially the fuzzy one. That's a good blanket.

Tarrant would then of course drag up said blanket. He's useful that way.


Back