4/5/99

You say "Clara? Do you have a moment? I have a gift that I would like to bring to you." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "I'm in my office, Corian. You're more than welcome up here, anytime. Although a gift isn't necessary, I promise."" in Clara's voice.

You say "*amusement* In this case, I am afraid that it is." into the communit.

You head towards the Medical Bay.

Medical Bay

Even the circulation of air can't quite keep the antiseptic smell from this room. Immaculately clean, the tiles of the floor are the same pristine white as the walls. Gadgets and gizmos abound. The highest medical technology available for all the races that might conceivably come to the station are present. A pair of beds near the door provide places for emergent cases, their bioscan devices ready for monitoring. Doors lead to rooms for surgery, short-term care, and long-term care. (OOC note: To set your room doing, try 'I'm <doing>'.)

Contents:

Corian, standing by the door.

Obvious Exits:

Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge

You arrive from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

A random nurse grins up from the onduty station desk and waves a hand in direction. "Doc sent a message saying for you to go on in, Ms. Treston."

Corian offers a pleasant smile to the random nurse. "Many thanks," she says as she moves towards the office, a box held lightly in her hands.

You walk towards the Chief Aleron's Office.

Chief Aleron's Office

Bright and airy, this fair sized office is far from pretentious, but instead useful. A large wooden desk faces the doorway, a pair of pointillism paintings in soft pastels flanking either side of the wall behind it. A second desk adjoins to the first, branching back from one side, upon which a terminal and keyboard rest. A pair of fairly comfortable chairs face the desk for visitors, wooden with soothing sand colored upholstery. On one side of the door is a simple brass coatrack, and on the other a bit farther down the wall is a full sized synthetic human skeleton. Along the right hand wall, a low couch covered in brown velour looks frighteningly comfortable, graphic print depictions of Stilvani and Edreeni internal anatomy framed neatly above it. Across the room is a single bioscan bed, much like the ones outside, just as the easily cleaned white tile flooring is unchanged.

Contents:

Kyara

Clara

Obvious exits:

Medical Bay

You walk here from the Medical Bay.

Clara pens a name on the envelope, then slides the note into it and seals it before grinning over at the door. "Corian, come in, please. You know Kyara, right? Pull up a chair. Can I get you some tea?"

Kyara gives Cori a smile of welcome. "Good to see you again, Cori."

Corian looks just a bit amused as she comes into the room, a plastic box held lightly in her hands. Spotting Kyara, she pauses a beat. "Good evening--I do hope I'm not interrupting?" At Clara's words, however, she moves to take a seat, smile returning. "Tea would be wonderful, yes, and Kyara and I have most certainly met." And, in fact, Kyara gets another of those pleasant smiles.

Clara turns in her chair to set water to boiling and pull out another mug along with a double sided spoon to hold loose tea. A measure gets scooped up from a small tin, then boiling water poured over it. "How've you been? And your friend...how is he?"

Kyara shakes her head."You're not interrupting anything, no worries there."

Corian says cheerfully, "I'm quite well, thank you for asking. And the two of you?" Her gaze flicks between the women as she tries to figure out how to answer that last question. She's got more than one friend, see. But then the lightbulb appears. "Ah. Tarrant, you mean? He's also doing well. In fact, it is his fault that I am inflicting this gift upon you, as he showed me the shop in which I purchased it, and, in fact, demonstrated it for me." Her eyes light with a certain pleased reflection, and she offers the box. "With my apologies," she murmurs, expression turning amused.

Clara nods at Kyara's statement, but takes the box with an air of puzzlement. "Inflicting?" The last gift inflicted on her rather than one she received was from her mother, see. And one that made her blush a lot. "Apologies? What have you to apologize for, my friend?" she asks, fumbling the box open.

Kyara smiles. "I can't speak for Clara, but I am well." She gives the box, then Clara, a curious look.

Inside the box is apparently some sort of toy. It's made of some sort of polymer, shaped like a spaceship. Oddly, there's a narrow cylinder attached to one end, the clarity of its composition revealing that it contains what look to be discs, each a different, bright color. There's also a trigger, just before the cylinder. Looks like it's some sort of gun, though, again, it's definitely a toy.

There's still a glint of amusement in Corian's eyes, though her expression is quite serene. "I must apologize because I will also be gifting Riley with one of these, and I am afraid that you will suffer the most. I thought it prudent to give you one as well. Self-defense, you see." Her tone is quite earnest. She's innocent. Really.

Clara turns the toy over in her hands for a moment, puzzling out exactly what it is before a slow grin spreads across her face. "Riley's getting one too?" she comments in a dangerously soft and delighted tone. "Oh, this is good. This is -very- good."

Slowly, Kya starts to laugh. "Nerf's not good enough for Riley?" she manages to get out.

Corian starts to reply to Clara, with a nod, but then Kyara's words earn the Stilvani a decidedly startled look. She glances briefly at Clara, then shakes her head. She's most definitely -not- going to ask what her brother and his lady do with aroused cucumbers. Then, of course, the translation hits, and she stifles a laugh, reaching for the tea mug to hide her expression. "Ah. Clara, the cylinder is the on-switch. Turning it clockwise will start the flow of power." She's not laughing. Really.

Clara quickly supplies, "-Terran- translation," with a significant blush, although she's still altogether thrilled with the toy as she clicks it on and makes the clockwise turn. Without warning, she holds it at arms length and fires between the two women to hit the skeleton squarely on the forehead. "Oh, Corian, this is -wonderful-! I can't thank you enough!"

Kyara ducks reflexively with a blink, glancing over her shoulder to eye the skeleton.

Corian automatically scoots out of the way as the gun is lifted, despite the fact that such movement is unnecessary. One hand brushing against the opposite hip, she smiles pleasantly to Clara, after casting a quick smile to Kyara as well. "Ah, but you can, Clara," she replies, with a quiet laugh. "I am most certain that my brother will torment far too many people with his toy. It is, then, necessary that he be tormented as well. Do you suppose that you could do me that favor?" Who said she's nice?

Clara dutifully shuts down the foam disc weapon, saving her ammunition for her poor, abused lifemate and grins lopsidedly. "I did get an A in Tormenting 416. I believe I can find it within me to fire this wonderful weapon upon our evil Chief Addison." She snorts vaguely, then. "If I can get him off duty. Any idea what time he got in to his office today, Kya?"

Kyara shakes her head, eyeing the toy half with amusement, half with horror. "In? Does he ever get out of it?" She just shakes her head. "Fraid I haven't been in yet myself today." She pauses for a drink of coffee, leaning forward to set the mug on Clara's desk. "Remind me to avoid said office after you give him that gift, Cori."

Corian casts an amused look at Kyara, but she nods. "I will endeavor to do that, yes." She shakes her head fractionally at the rest of the statements, however, sipping lightly at her tea. "Riley does too much," she observes. "Niko is back at work, now, yes? So he has less of an excuse to do so."

Clara glances at the date on her terminal screen and nods slowly. "Niko's back at work, yes," she agrees thoughtfully, then shrugs. "Honestly, I'm almost tempted to slap a medical leave for twenty-hours on him. I don't think he's taken a day off since we returned from vacation...two months ago."

Kyara sighs softly. "That's hardly surprising, knowing him. It's almost like he takes everything that happens around here /personally/, and therefore he must fix it."

Corian inquires of Clara, brows furrowing faintly in an expression of concern, "Has he worked so much that such an extreme is necessary?" Her gaze shifts towards Kyara, and she looks maybe a little uneasy. "That is," she says slowly, "Not perhaps the best way to go about doing things, in such an environment as the Complex."

Clara quirks a brow, a faint amount of wistful amusement showing through. "Are you kidding? Ask Honalee just how many times she had to toss him out on medleave. I'm not near as strict about as she was, although I'm tempted." She nods at Kya slowly, lips thin. "He does do that, I think. I'm glad Niko accepted the position of XO, though."

Kyara nods her agreement with both women. "Yeah, I think he at least went home at night after Nick took the job. It's just... all too much. Gotta admire him for being that way, but..." She blinks. "You know, I don't think he really realizes how much he worries people."

Corian, expression thoughtful, nods to Clara. "I will do that," she says, voice serious but absent. "Perhaps when she visits, she will be able to help him see sense." Kyara's words earn a nod as well. "Perhaps not."

Clara dips her head to regard her coffee cup for a moment, then rises to take the beflowered envelope to the door and hand it to someone beyond with a murmur before returning. "I'd love to see Honalee visit..." She sighs and peers at both women. "He really does have a lot to do, though. His superiors expect so much..."

Kyara glances upward, as if the higher-ups really were higher up. "Yeah, I know. They could make it a bit easier for him to meet those expectations though." She gives Corian a faintly surprised look. "When, not if? Honalee's coming here?"

Corian considers her answer for a moment. "She has said that she will try, though she is not altogether certain that she will be able to do so. She misses the bustle of the place, and there are those here whom she would like to see, or to meet." After a brief pause, she glances at Clara. "Is it necessary that he do it all himself, though. The ability to delegate is an excellent one to posess."

Clara draws a finger absently along the front of the desk, shrugging. "He really does have that much to do. I know he delegates some of it, but I'm not exactly conversant with everything he does. I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised when he sleeps in his office. He used to do so habitually." Then again, so did she.

Kyara grimaces. "I just keep reminding myself he's been doing this for several years. If he's survived this long, I suppose he's alright, but it's not easy to watch."

Corian's gaze rests on Clara for a moment. "He did not used to have you," she points out gently. Her voice holding humor as well as, perhaps, a note of wryness, she says, "Though I cannot help but wish that the two of you had taken just a bit longer to find each other." Gray eyes flicking to Kyara, she nods slowly. "He is resilient."

Clara nods in agreement with Kya, half grinning at her. "Exactly. I remind myself of the same all the time," she agrees, then blinks at Corian. "Taken longer..." Eyes widen in dismay. "Oh. The family disapproves?"

Kyara blinks at Cori in surprise. "Longer? Hadn't he been alone long enough?" She's extraordinarily puzzled.

Corian shakes her head quickly at Clara. "Of course not," she says, apology replacing the amusement in her manner. "From what I have heard, the family is most pleased with the situation. But, you see, now that Riley is settled down, Hona has that much more time to concentrate on -me-." She shakes her head, expression decidedly rueful. "I do not believe that she will understand that I am content as I am."

Relief washes over Clara's features rather visibly. Sure, Riley'd told her his family was okay with it, but it's more reassuring to hear it from family direct. A faint smile quirks at her lips as humor reasserts itself. "I don't know what to say, Corian. I was happy as a clam single...until I met Riley."

Kyara ohs softly, chuckling ruefully. "Why can't you just /tell/ her you're, ah, content? Or does she think you don't know your own heart?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian offers a reassuring smile to Clara, perhaps guessing what the doctor did not say. Gaze turning to Kyara, she says candidly, expression pleasant once more, "I have told her. She speaks of me as I do of her, saying that I am the one who does not understand." Her shoulders lift briefly in a graceful shrug. "I have done as she asked, at least in part. I hope that she will let it end there."

"Honalee is...very certain of her opinions," Clara adds to Kyara, selecting her words cautiously. "At least you know her intentions are purely altruistic, Corian."

Kyara hmmms. "I know people like that." She gives Cori a rather sympathetic look, then brightens. "I don't suppose Honalee could arrive in the next four days? We'll stick her in a room with my parents and they can all have at each other."

Corian nods firmly to Clara, a warm smile lighting her face. "Oh, of course. She has said it--she only wants my happiness. It is merely that our definitions differ." Turning to Kyara, she shakes her head, with a low, bubbling laugh. "I am afraid that such haste would be impossible for her, much as I would love to see her so soon."

Clara can't help but laugh as well, shaking her head. "That'd be another matchup we could charge admission for, though? Riley wants to get his mother and my great-grandmother together similarly. Two exceptionally opinionated women with wildly differing views."

Kyara chuckles. "Ah well, another brilliant idea down the drain." The chuckle transforms to a full laugh at Clara's words, and as it dies away, she reluctantly gets to her feet. "Much as I'm enjoying this conversation- and the break- I really should get to work. Should've been there quite a while ago."

Corian's brows lift sharply at Clara's words, though her amusement is still very obviously present. "Oh, dear. Oh.. that would most certainly be something to see." At Kyara's words, she nods, a brief, fond smile crossing her face. "It was wonderful to chat with you, dear; it has been far too long since we have done so."

Clara flitters her fingers at Kya with a grin. "Blame it all on me, Kya. Have a good evening, though, and give the folks over yonder my best. Don't work too hard."

Kyara blushes, hefting the case as she strolls toward the door. "Ditto, Cori. No such thing as working too hard," drifts back, "Just too long on too much."

Kyara walks towards the Medical Bay.

Kyara has left.

Corian casts a smile after Kyara, with a quiet chuckle for her words. "A sweet girl," she murmurs, mostly to herself. Glancing back to you, she says, "I am sure you have much to do as well. May I trouble you for a bit longer? It is entirely possible for me to come back another time."

Clara shakes her head, reaching out for Kya's mug and setting it to one side for later washing. "Isn't she? Grown by leaps and bounds since I've met her, too." She tilts her head curiously. "Actually, I've been off duty for about an hour now. All the time in the world. What is it?"

Corian considers for a moment before she says, "Actually, it is something of a professional question. I realize that this can be a subjective thing, and that this is not the easiest question in the world to answer, but how would you define insanity?"

Clara blinks several times at the question, then reaches for her mug. Something like this requires coffee. "Insanity...it's a relative term actually. As a counselor, I consider general insanity to be a condition encompassing a significant shift from societal norms on a personal level that was not initiated purposefully by the individual. Often it includes an ill-formed concept of reality, or severe emotional swings. Now, really...I'm more inclined not to call an individual insane unless he or she is criminally so. Otherwise, it is simply mental illness, treatable."

Corian's expression is thoughtful, but also holds a certain odd intentness that suggests, just perhaps, that she's making an attempt to commit your words to memory. "So insanity would be the wrong term," she murmurs, mostly to herself, "Even if it were the case." She looks back to you with a pleasant smile. "Thank you. That will be helpful. How would you determine if someone were... mentally ill?"

Spreading her hands lightly, Clara offers almost apologetically, "I would have to examine the individual through analysis and counseling before determining such officially. There are symptoms of various illnesses. For example, schizophrenia is when one loses track of reality and creates fantasy in which to live in. (Irony, here ;) Bi-polar disorder encompasses massive highs of mania and sharp lows of depression without warning. There are others...can you perhaps give me some symptoms you might...have in mind?"

Corian considers the question for a long moment, fingers drumming a light stacatto on the mug. "There are things which this person does which are not... generally acceptable to much of society," she says, clearly choosing her words with care. "It is my opinion from what I know of them that the actions are necessary, that they are justified by their results. I am not certain that is the case with this person, who believes that the very fact that he is able to perform such acts bring his sanity into question--at least," she qualifies, "That is my impression."

Clara steeples her fingers, leaning back into her chair to consider this at lenght. Finally, she inhales a deep breath and notes, "As a doctor, I took an oath to 'do no harm'. And yet, as an Infantry Officer, I have shot and killed men in battle. Doing such was unthinkable to me, and I would never...-never- harm someone like that...except in those circumstances. I was not insane. I was following orders as a soldier should." She tilts her head. "Does this make sense at all?" she asks, obviously dubious that it does.

Corian inclines her head, expression still thoughtful. "It does, yes. But that was in a conflict, yes? From what I have seen, that falls within most societal norms; by your own definition, you were sane--though that seems like the sort of action that could cause internal conflict." She lifts a hand to rub one finger lightly along the edge of her necklace.

Clara lifts a hand, shaking her head. "It was in conflict, yes...but it doesn't fall into the norms for a physician. And yes, it caused massive internal conflict. They had to send me back off the lines for two weeks after I'd made my first successful elminiation of one of the enemy. The point I'm making is, the actions themselves can make the actor feel as though sanity were tenuous, but the actor need not be insane to commit them. Perhaps have a skewed set of priorities...but then you need to look at the subject when he or she is -not- performing those activities. Insanity is not something that only initiates for certain acts. It's wholly invasive."

The turning gears are almost visible. Corian nods thoughtfully. "I will have to remember this," she observes. "This particular variety of discussion is not even remotely my strong point. So what do you believe should be done for people whose... actions make their belief in their own sanity somewhat less than sound?" She smiles faintly. "Please forgive me. These are not easy questions that I am asking."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara shakes her head, smiling warmly. "Corian, that's why I'm a certified counselor among...other things. I would suggests having the person in question come and talk to me, if they're willing. The one privilige the Fleet gives me is that official counseling sessions are entirely private. I do not report them, and the records I keep for each patient are sealed to me alone. Were something to happen to me, they'd call in another Fleet counselor to handle the records."

Corian shakes her head fractionally at that, though her smile is firmly in place. "I am afraid that is not possible, though I do appreciate the sentiment, as well as your helpfulness."

Clara exhales softly, then nods. "That's often the case, where the patient refuses to seek assistance. I would in this case simply reassure the subject just of what I've told you. That sanity is a relative term, and often circumstantial. Am I insane for staying up until 3am pounding on drums? Is Riley insane for working eighty hours a week or more? It's a point of view."

Corian fidgets lightly with her necklace, running the leaf back and forth along the chain. This must be why she wears the thing--to give herself something to play with while she's thinking. "I would think that he would know that," she observes. "Sometimes I wonder if he keeps up the facade of insanity so that he can continue to behave in outrageous ways." Her hands lift in a brief, graceful gesture of uncertainty. "It is not for me to know, I am afraid."

Clara gestures reasonably, head tilted. "That may well be the case. And yet outrageous ways and eccentricies require no facade of insanity. Not in this day and age. Perhaps...perhaps the person in question merely needs a friend to tell him such. It's one thing to know something already, and very much a different thing to hear it from the lips of someone close."

Corian shakes her head fractionally at that, her pleasant expression now not quite reaching her eyes. "I have told him--at least, I have told him that I believed him to be sane. He told me that it was being insane which kept him sane--that he preferred it to the alternatives." There's a quiet exhalation that isn't quite a sigh, and a hint of worry in her gray eyes. "I have tried. I am not sure that I can help, though I wish to do so."

Clara's brows furrow faintly as she folds her hands. "Perhaps I assume too much," she begins slowly, "but that really sounds like a soul attempting to rationalize actions he ultimately, perhaps even only at a subconscious level, finds unpalatable." She leans forward on her desk head tilted in worry. "This is someone you care for, isn't it?"

Corian shakes her head slowly, taking a sip of her tea. "I do not believe that you assume too much," she says quietly. "And this is a dear friend, yes. I do not wish for him to be in pain, not if there is anything I can do to help. In this case, though, I am not sure that there is."

"Be there for him," Clara replies promptly. "Of all advice I could give, this is something I can believe in firmly. Most sentient races are -not- solitary creatures. We crave companionship. We crave someone to love us, to listen to us, even something as simple as hearing our name from a friend's lips is vastly important. Physical touch is also a great healer." She waves a hand with a faint smile. "Oh, nothing lascivious, although in the proper circumstances, that can heal as well, but just a touch on the hand. A hug. Simple things like words and touch can work miracles."

Corian is quiet for a long moment, expression thoughtful. And, yes, there's more than a little hesitation at the first mention of physical touch. "Words... yes. Words are not likely to be a problem; I have made them my career, after all. But I am not quite certain how the other would be received."

Clara wraps her hands about her mug, nodding slowly. "It's not an easy thing to essay if you're not used to it," she agrees gently. "But you can't know until you try. Whatever you try, let it be easy. Don't force anything, or the discomfort will affect your friend, and then he'll wonder what he did wrong." She half smile sympathetically. "It's not as hard as it sounds."

Corian nods slowly at that, though she doesn't look exactly certain that she agrees with your final statement. "It is another thing to learn, I suppose," she says, with a faint smile. With a quiet chuckle, she says, "Again, not quite something that can be learned at University."

Clara laughs as well, a warm and agreeable sound. "No, I'm afraid not. Well, a lot of people -do- learn it at University, just not in any classes," she adds with a quick grin. "I've found it really helps, though. For example, if I have a patient in pain, just smoothing their hair back or squeezing their hand can reduce the pain level. Now why this is, well, I have theories, but no real answers."

Corian, expression decidedly interested at that, nods thoughtfully. "I... yes. Though I have not made conscious observation of it, I believe I have noticed the same--with the younglings, when they injure themselves in play, for example."

Clara plucks a small plush penguin from behind her monitor and regards it fondly. "It's that same principle. The thought that we are not alone in any pain we endure. It's too easy to give into despair if we're alone. Children are especially dramatic examples, because they've not yet learned to conceal their emotions."

Corian looks briefly amused as she spots the penguins, then shakes her head fractionally. "Most of them have not, yes," she murmurs. Glancing back to you, she observes, "It is not such a terrible thing to be alone, though, is it? I have not found it so, despite what Honalee says." And her tone, at that last, holds a hint of fondness.

Clara lifts her eyes from the penguin, smiling warmly. "Ah, but are you? You have family that loves you, you have close friends. Is life incomplete because you don't have a partner? I can't see why it would be. That, of course, is your decision to make. Riley told me that in your culture, like mine, choosing a lifemate isn't precisely common, if not uncommon. Are all of the single people alone? I hope not."

Corian's tone holds a hint of humor as she says, "Perhaps you could mention these things to Hona?" A bit more seriously, she adds, "She's worried about me, but there really isn't a need for that."

Clara shakes her head in slow, but amused, denial. "Nuh-uh. No way. All bets are off when it comes to maternal ancestral relatives. When I found out her relationship to Riley, I nearly went and hid under a rock, since I'd already mentioned just how easy on the eyes so many of the Security men were."

A glint of mirth works its way into Corian's eyes. "Oh, and I suppose Hona didn't even mention it," she says. (Yeah, because Leila didn't know about the relationship at that point. "I love her dearly, but she really does enjoy teasing. She is, at least, willing to admit that."

Clara chuckles, taking a sip from her mug that drains it. "Not word one. She even went about agreeing with me that the men looked rather nice in their uniforms. Evil woman. I want to grow up to be just like her." She pauses. "Well, except human. I don't know -that- much about genetics to change that far," she adds with a laugh.

Corian sounds quite sincere as she says, "Hona's a wonderful role-model. I really wish I could do as she wished--but it seems like she would find it somewhat lacking if I did so for her, rather than for myself." With a quiet chuckle, she adds, "And that is quite a shame. There can never be too many Edreeni."

Clara waggles a finger, eyes dancing. "You're just saying that because you are one," she accuses cheerfully. "Truth to tell, though, when I found out Riley was a hybrid, I was delighted. It's a good genetic cross, actually. One that tends to take the best of both races."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian manages a rather convincing expression of injured innocence at your accusation. "Why, Clara," she murmurs. "Do you really consider me so biased?" She chuckles quietly, expression shifting to humor. "It would make sense, as I -am- biased, somewhat, though I have seen enough to recognize the beauty in other races but those which I have known. I do happen to favor Edreeni and Human, though--preferably combined."

Clara bites her lower lip, an excessively fond look crossing her features as she glances over at the stuffed penguin again. "I guess I'd have to admit to the same, for all that I'm pure Terran stock. Or, as your brother would say, a stuckup Terran stickybeak." She seems to find this moniker vastly amusing, too.

Corian's brows arch sharply upwards. "He doesn't," she protests, with a short laugh. "Oh, goodness, he -does-. I'm surprised he does not drive you to distraction." Her tone, however, is equally fond; it's plain that she cares very much for her brother.

Clara nods affirmatively, eyes bright in a grin. "Oh, he most certainly does. We had the most wonderful times calling each other names at first based on Terran versus colonial. He drives me absolutely mad, and I wouldn't trade him for all the stars in the sky." She's pretty fond of the big goof, too, it it seems.

There's something thoughtful about Corian for a moment--something almost clinical in her manner. Then, though, a warm smile lights her face. "I am glad that he was lucky enough to find someone like you," she says. Lips quirking, she adds, "Hona said that it was especially good that you are a drummer--something about the drumsticks coming in handy on those apparently-frequent occasions in which Riley needs to be smacked?"

Clara seems surprised by this before dissolving into laughter. "Oh, heavens. I don't think I'd thought to use my sticks for -quite- that purpose," she admits, snickering. "I guess I just forget entirely that he needs the occassional smack to keep him in line...although," she pauses, smile softening, "I was the lucky one to find him."

Corian suggests, expression growing thoughtful once more, "Perhaps it was mutual luck?"

Clara consider the expression for a moment, then tilts her head in thought. "Perhaps. Perhaps it was fate. I know it took a lot of hard work to get us to where we are now, though. Hard work, but gratifying. And...almost inevitable," she adds with almost puzzled awe.

Corian looks rather intrigued by that. "Inevitable?" she echoes. "So you were not looking, when you encountered Riley?"

Clara folds her hands, taking a deep breath that can't erase a patently sheepish expression. "Looking? Corian...I was dating Niko when I first realized I had feelings for Riley. It was...difficult."

Corian's brows arch fractionally at that. "I can see how that would be, yes," she says slowly. "Especially where someone as young as Niko is concerned."

Clara sighs deeply and nods, pushing her mug from one hand to the other on the desktop lightly. "Exceptionally difficult, as I did and always will care very deeply for Niko. But not only am I older than he is, well...Ela was what he needed. I think it'd be safe to say that Riley and I both did our best to trample our feelings for each other until we simply couldn't anymore."

Corian murmurs something under her breath about Honalee, though she's nodding. "It seems that he is very happy now, though," she observess, "Though I have not yet had as much opportunity to chat with him as I would like."

"You and me both," Clara replies with a wistful grin. "He works too hard." A common opinion, evidently. "I...I hope he's happy," she finally ventures after a pause. "I'm working on learning Kashidian by the way." Her lips quirk. "Someone needs to make a Standard translation of your Code. Although I'll admit I'm getting massive amounts of new vocabulary by working through it with a translating dictionary."

Corian pauses, looking puzzled for a moment, then shakes her head. "I do not believe that a Standard translation of the Code would be able to carry the proper flavor of the words. Even those whose translations seem straightforward can be made different by the inflection used, or sometimes by their positioning in the sentence. Even if someone attempted it, I believe it would be... somewhat inadequate."

Clara runs her hand back through her hair, chuckling. "I think I've already discovered some of this, actually. There's quite a bit I've had to get a word for word translation on, then just sit and think about it for a while until the words made sense togeth-..." she pauses as lettering crosses her monitor, and an insanely fond look crosses her face. "Oh. Nice man," she murmurs.

Corian pauses at that, brows lifting fractionally. The lady is talking to her monitor. And this is the person with whom she was discussing insanity. Hmmm. Actually, Corian thinks none of these things, but merely looks a bit puzzled, and a little amused as well. "Your terminal is male?" The question is innocent. Really.

Clara types a quick message back into her computer, laughing cheerfully. "Not to my knowledge. Might be. No, I got a message from your brother. I sent him a dinner invitation earlier today hoping to lure him out of his office. I guess he just now got it."

Corian takes a moment to locate her pocketwatch, then blinks. "Goodness, it is somewhat past dinnertime, and I've been here keeping you from it." She gets to her feet, as if in preparation for her departure, then pauses. "Would you have a preference as to when I gave Riley his gift?"

Clara glances at the clock on her computer and shrugs, not particularly bothered by the time, although she softens abruptly at the screen again. Must be another message. "As soon as you'd like? I could have him meet us in the lobby, if you like? Not that I'd shoot him," she adds virtuosly. No, really.

Corian looks decidedly amused by that. "I do hope that was a joke, Clara. If not, then I'll need to get another gun, and find someone who -will- shoot him." Maybe Niko. Niko's good with a tangler, after all, has demonstrated his willingness to shoot Riley... With a chuckle, she shakes her head. "It can wait, quite easily. I am hardly one to judge, but it seems to me that this sort of gift is hardly the proper start to a romantic evening."

"I've shot him with a watergun at the beginning of a romantic evening," Clara supplies cheerfully, tapping in a reply quickly. "And yes, I'll shoot him. He's a -far- better shot than I am, but one of my favorite things is getting him down into the sims for competative practice."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian makes a dismissive gesture. "I will leave the decision to you as to whether it should wait," she says pleasantly. "Though I can certainly understand the entertainment value of a little random exchange of fire." She pauses a beat as she catches her own words, then shakes her head, with a quiet chuckle.

Clara shapes her hand into a gun, much like a child would, points it at Security, and notes 'bang' absently before rising. "Excuse me a moment," she asks, vanishing into the small necessary and returning just a moment later in fatigues rather than her normal office uniform. "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd love to see the look on his face when you gave him the gun," she answers with a grin.

Corian nods agreeably, with a quiet chuckle. "It will be necessary for me to return to my quarters, as I only brought the one gun, but I would be glad to do so. I do hope," she adds, sounding amused, "That I do not receive too many complaints about this. I have already warned the clerks at the toy store that they should expect others from the Complex to arrive to purchase more of these."

Clara grins broadly and holds up a hand before tapping in a final message. "There, I've asked him to meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. Will that give you enough time?" she asks, eyes bright as she rises from the chair.

Corian nods amiably. "Of course, of course. That is more than enough time, assuming that the elevator is amenable."

Clara snaps off her coffee pot and water kettle, then comes around the desk and heads over to hold open the door. "After you? This should be fun," she adds. Of course, her own box is tucked under one arm.

Corian notes the presence of the box and looks just a bit amused. "I do hope the two of you enjoy these toys," she says, as she makes her way out of the office. "I know that I certainly did."

You walk towards the Medical Bay.

Medical Bay

Even the circulation of air can't quite keep the antiseptic smell from this room. Immaculately clean, the tiles of the floor are the same pristine white as the walls. Gadgets and gizmos abound. The highest medical technology available for all the races that might conceivably come to the station are present. A pair of beds near the door provide places for emergent cases, their bioscan devices ready for monitoring. Doors lead to rooms for surgery, short-term care, and long-term care. (OOC note: To set your room doing, try 'I'm <doing>'.)

Contents:

Corian, standing by the door.

Obvious Exits:

Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge

You walk here from the Chief Aleron's Office.

Clara walks here from the Chief Aleron's Office.

Clara has arrived.

You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Second Floor Elevator Lounge

Despite being one of the major hubs of activity in the Complex, few people linger here. While there are usually people present, usually they are on their way to someplace else. The lobby is nice enough, with broad tapestries hung on richly paneled walls, and floors of veined black marble; but it is simply too busy for most people to stop and chat in. The occasional tasteful potted plant lurks in the corners, and large mirrors are hung near the elevators for passing lobbyists to check their appearances before descending to the main level. Corridors lead to the northeast and southwest.

Obvious exits:

Stairs Elevator General Housing Library Security Maintenance Medical

You arrive from the Medical Bay.

Clara arrives from the Medical Bay.

Clara has arrived.

Clara follows, laughing easily as she shakes her head. "I knew it. You're a secret kid at heart too. It's all genetic, I swear," she decides with a grin. "I'll wait here and detain him in case he's early," she offers.

Corian lifts a finger to her lips as she reaches to push the elevator button. "I do hope that you will not betray my horrible secret," she says seriously, though her eyes betray her humor.

You push the button.

Clara moves to check her hair in the mirror, casting a sidelong grin. "Not a word," she promises.

From the elevator, With a ping, the doors slide smoothly open.

Corian sends a smile over her shoulder as she hurries to catch the evil elevator.

[Elevator spam deleted. A little time passes.]

Corian has another box, naturally, of the same dimensions as yours. "I see that hurrying wasn't necessary," she says, with a smile.

Clara is leaning against one wall, evidently having slipped back into Medbay for a moment for her jacket and cap, and grins at the elevator. "He's not here yet, no. I did tell him ten minutes, though."

Corian nods amiably, moving away from the elevator to allow more folks to undergo linear induction. "And I was not gone -quite- so long, no."

Riley arrives from the Security Central.

Riley has arrived.

"Not quite, but it's not all that far," Clara agrees, eyeing the other box with a grin. "This should be f-..." The statement cuts off since that much Security officer is really hard to miss, and he gets a brilliant smile. "Riley..."

Riley is only a minute or so late, but is moving quickly in an attempt to make up for lateness. Padding through the lounge he offers Corian a grin and a half bowed greeting, and to Clara a rather sappily in love smile and a number of now somewhat bedraggled daisies. They are somewaht miffed as flowers go, but the idea at least was there. "Good evening, ladies, how fare you?"

Corian offers a thoughtful smile to Riley as he emerges from Security, shifting the box to one hand so that she can return the bow. "I am quite well, cha'leket. And yourself?"

They may as well have been flawless roses for all of Clara's reaction, as she particularly melts and murmurs utterly adoring thanks, then has to take a half step back, broad grin reasserting itself as she just...watches. And grins.

Riley grins at Clara's response, obviously pleased that the flowerage was not found unacceptable despite vague squishedness. He grins to Corian, "I am well, if perhaps a little pickled by overexposure to the brine of Admiral Felenar's salty wit. I spent a good four hours on the comm with the esteemed gentleman, and it was...unique."

Corian, expression rather deceptively serious, offers the box. "Perhaps," she suggests, "This will help somewhat to relieve your pickled state." She really is good at maintaining her grave expression, with only the faintest curve of her lips to give her away.

Riley accepts the box with a somewhat puzzled look, although the expression also holds a hint of bemusement, "Should I be afraid?" He regards the box, as if attempting to ascertain its contents.

Clara winces slightly from beneat her cap, absently leaning her face down into the flowers for a moment to inhale the fragrance. She simply nods faintly, eyes dancing over a few petals as she shifts her own box that's under her arms slightly.

Dang, he's insightful.

Corian shakes her head to Riley, gravity shifting to a decidedly perilous innocence. Just a little peril. "Of course not, cha'leket," she says smoothly. "I think, perhaps, that it is the rest of the Complex that should fear."

Riley perks up a bit at that, although he was already cheerful to begin with. "Ah, well as long as it's something to scare everyone -else- with..." He carefully opens said box.

Inside the box is apparently some sort of toy. It's made of some sort of polymer, shaped like a spaceship. Oddly, there's a narrow cylinder attached to one end, the clarity of its composition revealing that it contains what look to be discs, each a different, bright color. There's also a trigger, just before the cylinder. Looks like it's some sort of gun, though, again, it's definitely a toy.

"We're all doomed," Clara murmurs, obviously fairly approving of whatever might be in the box. No telling how she might know before hand though. "Doomed, I say."

Corian cautions Riley, with a laugh, "You are not allowed to use that on -me-, now, cha'leket. If you do, I shall tell -stories-."

Riley's eyes widen in obvious delight as he extracts the gun. "Ooh, a -toy-." Yes, he's too easily amused. "Oh goodness, thank you Cori..." His eyes are indeed alight with evil. "No shooting you, yes, stories will be evil. Do I get to shoot Clara?"

Clara clears her throat, eyes dancing as she lifts a leg to balance the box on and nimbly remove her own gun with one hand before tucking the box back under her arm. She regards it casually, then waggles her brows up at Riley. "Sure thing, love," she replies. "Fire at will."

Corian gestures towards Clara at the younger woman's answer, then prudently retreats somewhat down the hall, closer to the elevator. "I do believe," she observes, with a chuckle, "That this is my cue. I am glad you like the gift, Riley. Please try not to harass -too- many people with it."

With total innocence Riley replies, "But I don't know anybody named Will." He grins at Corian, waving, "Have a pleasant evening, thank you muchly."

Clara grins back over her shoulder, waving her own disc gun. "Goodnight, Corian. Thanks for the talk and the toy. Holler if I can be of any more...well, dubious help," she amends last minute, then turns back, all eyes for Rile. "I don't know anyone named Will, either. I suppose I'll just have to shoot you," she muses.

Corian watches the pair for a moment, expression thoughtful, then murmurs a farewell and reaches to tap the button.


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