4/9/99

A message is waiting, whenever said messages should be checked. It simply reads, "Comm me when you can bear annoying company? - Tarrant"

You say "Van'chela? I have received your message." She sounds a lot more together. "Is all well?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Yeah, all's well. Just thought I'd see if you wanted someone to come up and pester ya'. Clara mentioned you were sort of stuck in the building for several days." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "You saw her, then? Good. I would appreciate some company, yes." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Yeah, she came knocking. I'll be up in a moment then. I need to see if I have another pair of shoes hidden in here somewhere." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Shoes? All right. If you wish to wear shoes, I will not argue." into the communit.
Your communit crackles to life and blares "*snicker* I could come barefoot, but this would probably confuse the people in the halls." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "*amusement* That seems like the sort of thing that you would find appealing." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "*chuckle* I'll be right up." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I will see you then." into the communit.

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

Corian calls, "Come in."

Tarrant enters from the Elevator Lounge.

Tarrant has arrived.

Tarrant is on crutches again, and is, as expected, barefoot. Once again he's had to resort to unorthodox methods of carrying things, as he has a decent sized paper bag in his teeth. He offers a rather goofily grinned greeting and, "Herro, I'vd 'e 'olite, 'ut I'go' a 'ag in m'mouf."

Corian is curled up on the couch, again with her fuzzy blanket. She's a big fan of the fuzzy blanket. She offers you a smile that, while warm, is just a bit sheepish, and gets up to relieve you of the bag. "Goodness, van'chela. You sound as if you have a bag in your mouth."

Tarrant erks rather quietly as you get up, although he does make a lot more sense sans bag. "You weren't supposed to get up though..."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian deposits the bag next to the giraffe. "I am perfectly capable of standing," she observes, with a faint smile, though, it may be noted, she does return to her seat on the couch. "You look as if you could use a seat as well."

Tarrant makes his way carefully to the other end of the couch, carefully sinking down onto it. "Yeah, sitting is good. The good doctor decided I needed to be cowed into submission I suppose and used the evil device again." He settles the crutches aside, reaching for the bag. "I should not tease I suppose, she was actually quite kind." There's a pause and he asks, "Have you eaten?"

Corian winces fractionally at the mention of the evil device, expression rather sympathetic. "Clara is a wonderful doctor," she agree squietly, "And a good friend to have. And I have not eaten, no. I have been asleep. It seemed appropriate." At least in part because she was up to an insane hour talking to Honalee.

Tarrant rummages in the bag, setting out a couple of cups with tops, a la the kind coffee comes in. The writing on the sides is in a really weord foreign language that you probably speak, but he doesn't. He also removes a couple of paper wrapped objects. "Okay, it's not terribly fancy, but remember the little Mimbrikian place across the street from our old HQ? Well, there's a little Mimbrikian place in the Quarter, and miracle of miracles they do take-out. I -think- I remembered what you normally ordered, but if I erred, I can always just call them up again."

Corian looks rather pleased at the contents of the bag. "Thank you, van'chela. This was unnecessary, but it's most appreciated. I should go outside more, if there is Mimbrikian food. Even if you did not get what I usually ordered, it is difficult to go wrong with that." She gets to her feet, the better to snag plates and napkins and whatever one uses to eat Mimbrikian food.

Tarrant starts to protest you getting up again, but he does realize that plates and crutches probably would not mix well. He does however note with wry amusement, "You are not supposed to keep getting up. My intent was to come up to be -helpful-, not cause effort to need expending."

Corian, returning with the various stuffs, inquires as she sits once more, "Did she say that I was not to move about? She said only that I should rest, which I am doing. Your presence is helpful, though. I am somewhat less likely to be restless when I have company." Sure, yeah, like she's not just fine without company.

"No, she didn't at that... But still, it seems backwards somehow." Tarrant tugs a small box from the bag as well, settling back a bit more comfortably. "Well, as long as I am at least nominally helpful."

Corian nods her agreement to that, glancing towards the box before she distributes the plates and such. "Oh, of course, van'chela. I'm most glad to have you here." She smiles, then adds, sounding maybe a touch embarrassed, "I am sorry about how I behaved earlier. I was... somewhat upset."

"No apologies are needed, I am just glad I could lend what little support...Thankfully Clara did not take overlong to come to your rescue." Tarrant tugs open the small box, it contains the equivalent of fortune cookies. Gesturing with it he puts the box on the table. "For after."

Corian nods firmly to your comment about Clara. "It was," she says, with a quick smile, "Very much a relief to hear her news, and to fix the problem." The cookies elicit another smile and nod, as she takes up her portion of the food. "They are generally quite entertaining. Thank you for remembering."

Tarrant snags his own food, arraying it across the plate carefully. Sauce is uncapped and a fork snagged. "Clara is ... a very helpful individual." Gee, does he look embarrassed? Almost, that's for sure. "I figured as often as you've fed me of late, I better get this right. And my options were somewhat limited, as Clara all but expressly forbid me to leave the building."

Corian nods to your assessment of Clara, with a quick smile. She pauses a beat at the almost-embarrassment, but then she catches the aroma of the food, and turns her attention to it. "I have not fed you that often," she observes, with a smile. "Though your care was appreciated. It has been far too long since I've had this." A gesture with her fork indicates the food.

Tarrant snags a bite of his own meal, reaching down for his cup and the odd tea substance contained within. "Often enough that it was my turn. Besides, you've had a hell of a day."

Corian, with a faint smile, says, "I cannot argue with that, no. But it is near to over, and it is most certainly looking much better."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Nodding, Tarrant takes another bite. "I'm glad things are looking up for you. I am pleased to hear you say so."

Corian's lips quirk fractionally. "I'm glad that you're glad," she says, a hint of humor in her voice. With a gesture towards the crutches, she inquires, "Do you know how long you will be using those?"

Tarrant lifts his shoulders in something of a shrug as he finishes off the bite of food he's on and settles the plate to the table. "I'm not certain. I was...a bit out of it when she left. A few days I believe."

Corian's fork rests lightly on her plate as she peers at you. "Van'chela, are you well? You seem... not quite yourself."

Tugging his battered foot up carefully, Tarrant sits half crosslegged on the couch, the good leg covering the bad ankle so as not to frighten off any small children that might be lurking about. He sips from his tea, trying to compose himself. "My apologies, it has been an odd couple of days, and I have not been as good about care of my speech and the like as I ought."

Corian, taking up her fork once more, nods thoughtfully. She continues to eat, but lightly, now. "I have noticed that, to some extent. At least with me, van'chela, there is no need to take such care. I will not be offended by your words."

"You say that," Tarrant says with an amused tone, "But you do not know what it is I might say." He sips again from the cup, calming his nerves. "So I find it hard to lend creedance to your assertion, no matter how well intentioned."

Corian casts a puzzled look at you, as she takes up her own tea. "I do not believe that there is anything that you could say that would offend me, though I suppose I could be incorrect." With a faint smile, she adds, "I am not so easily offended as I look."

Tarrant glances up from his tea a moment, the aching wistfulness having returned. He -wants- to say something, he really does. This afternoon brought it home to him, even though it was a false alarm, that if he does not say something, someone else very well -may-. "I would not wish to offend you, and in this case I think it all too possible."

Corian looks just a bit puzzled, but nods. "Of course, van'chela," she says slowly. "As you wish." (Hopefully, you've not seen The Princess Bride.) She sets aside her plate, and reaches for the fortune cookie-esque thing, turning it over in her hands.

Tarrant hasn't thankfully, or he'd probably be a bigger mess than he is already. Instead he takes another sip of his tea. "I do not know what I wish." He watches you with the cookie, brows half-lifted.

Corian watches you quizzically for a moment, then says thoughtfully, "Perhaps you will learn in time." She cracks open her cookie then, a quick, amused smile crossing her face as she reads. "Well, my faith in these cookies is still intact."

Tarrant leans to scoop his own cookie from the box, smiling at you questioningly, "What does it say?"

Corian lifts her gaze to you for a moment, then wordlessly offers you the slip of paper, apparently preferring that to reading the fortune aloud, as per custom when the group from HQ got Mimbrikian food. It reads, 'You will attract kind and charming people to your home.'

Tarrant's brows lift at that, chuckling quietly and returning the fortune. "It must mean Clara, and perhaps your cousin." He breaks his own cookie in half, tugging free the fortune. Reading it he simply shakes his head, smoothing the paper. Saying nothing, as he is thinking too much to do so, he simply offers it. The crinkled paper reads, 'And the truth will set you free.'

Corian shakes her head as she takes your paper. "And you as well, van'chela. You most certainly qualify." Gaze dropping to the paper, she nods thoughtfully, offering it back to you. "I usually enjoy the fortunes," she says lightly, "Though I was most disappointed one evening, when I received a so-called fortune singing the praises of institutional food."

Tarrant accepts the scrap of paper, folding it and refolding it before tucking it neatly away in the pocket of his denim coat. "They're half the fun of it usually, yes." The lightly tones word seem to pull him away from his thoughts. "Not to mention the cookies are good."

Corian nods her agreement to that, breaking her cookie into neat sections--the same motions she's used literally every time she's eaten them. Yes, she's a creature of habit, why? After munching on the first of the sections, she smiles. "As I said, it has been far too long since I have had Mimbrikian food. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It was something I knew you liked, and I was somewhat strapped for ideas. I was thinking perhaps I could bribe you into allowing me into your presence if simply asking did not work," Tarrant explains ruefully.

Corian blinks at that, turning another cookie section in her hands. "Tarrant, bribery is, of course, unnecessary. I enjoy spending time with you. That is the sort of thing that friends do, yes?"

"Yeah, but I've been being, well weirder than usual of late. I wasn't sure how welcome a loonier than usual lunatic would be after a day like you've had," Tarrant explains, munching on his cookie.

Corian's lips quirk fractionally at that. "Van'chela, this is the topic upon which we disagree, remember? If I do not consider you to be a lunatic, why would I avoid you because of increased nonexistant lunacy?" She chuckles very quietly, adding, "To make it clear, though, your presence is welcome, especially after a day like I have had."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Okay, okay, if not a lunatic, then at least odder than usual." Tarrant sets his tea aside as half finished as his meal. He's terribly nervous, trying desperately to find the words from -somewhere-. After all, truth's relative freedom has been mentioned. "Corian..."

Corian finishes off the last of her cookie. She apparently picks up on the nervousness. Her smile is reassuring, if curious. "Yes, van'chela?"

"I am afraid I have done something altogether silly. It's something I've never done before, so it's got me rather at odd ends," Tarrant tugs down the damaged ankle, as if ready at any moment to bolt.

Corian reaches over to rest a hand lightly on your arm, just above the wrist. "Tarrant," she says, voice colored just a bit by humor, "Silliness is hardly unusual for you." Growing serious once more, she adds, "But you seem somewhat... troubled by this particular silliness. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I do not know, and that is the point of difficulty, whether or not to mention this to you." Tarrant's eyes are locked onto a space of couch in between you, still skittish and all but ready to bolt. "You have been my friend for a long time now, and I would apologize for laying this upon you...But I have grown accustomed to trusting you, and letting a lie stand, even one of omission, is somewhat uncomfortable. Corian...how to find words for this, people have been trying since the dawn of time, and since they try still I think it is a good sign they haven't found them. Corian..." And there's your name again, even scared witless he loves the sound of it. "I have gone and fallen in love with you."

Corian blinks a few times, though she doesn't lift her hand from your arm. "Tarrant... van'chela." Her voice is quiet, and rather stunned, but still a bit pleased. Poor Corian. Two shocks in the same day. "I... I do not know what to say. Hona said this might be the case." That last is in a somewhat quieter tone, a bit musing. Her gaze is focused on your face. This is the part in the movies where she's supposed to fall into your arms and kiss you, but Corian hasn't seen enough movies lately, and so doesn't know her cue. "I wish I could say that I loved you as well," she says slowly. "I... I honestly do not know how I feel. I know that your presence makes me happy. I know that I enjoy spending time with you." Her voice is quiet, and rather thoughtful.

Tarrant probably would jump several feet in the air if Corian fell into his arms. He doesn't watch those kind of movies see. He watches guy movies, and cartoons, lots and lots of cartoons. Still, you aren't actually angry at him it seems, and that hand's still there, so he cannot escape. "I am sorry...As I tried to say, it is an inappropriate thing, but pretending that this was not the case has been altogether difficult in the past few days. And this afternoon... Well, I went into Medbay, I was going to ask about my foot. And I heard, and I apologize for having overheard, that you were pregnant. I...left quickly. I had assumed there was someone, I had waited too long to speak. I know you are content alone. I had hoped...well that if I waited long enough, maybe that would change. I still would never think to do otherwise, but at least now it has not been left unsaid."

Corian shakes her head slowly. "Van'chela, there is no need to apologize. You cannot control your emotions, or what you happen to overhear. It is a compliment, after all, to have you say such kind words." She pauses for a moment, then says quietly, "There is nobody else, however, Tarrant--0f that I can assure you. There..." She hesitates for a moment, then says, "There never has been. Hona suggested that I think about my feelings for you. I am doing that, and will continue to do so, but emotions are not especially easy."

"Corian, I have waited this long, and having told you this, I could wait indeed forever. And if you find, as is altogether likely, that this is not the line of your thinking...all I ask is that I be allowed to remain your friend, despite this transgression. It is enough, more than enough, in fact more than I have ever had before." Tarrant's words are half-formal, although his softly drawling accent rids them of even that formlity. His eyes are still locked on the couch, and he is still poised as if to run, far too tired and emotionally battered about to be as sensical as he might be.

Corian gently squeezes your arm with that hand, which is still there. "Tarrant... of course you will remain my friend--always, that will be the case, if it is what you wish. I do not have so many that I may call van'chela that I would discard one so carelessly. Tarrant... please. It is most certainly not a transgression, and you should not think of it as such. I am quite flattered to hear your words, my friend."

Tarrant looks more than a little relieved at that first, all but slumping in relief, certainly relaxing from his all but bolting position. A quietly murmured thank you in his milk tongue is perhaps intended to some deity, although Tarrant is not religious by nature. That last actually gets him to glance up, amusement half flickering through grayish-green eyes. "Flattered that a lunatic has fallen in love with you, I think Corian, you might have this twisted up somehow."

Corian chuckles very quietly at that, shaking her head. "Van'chela, why do you persist in thinking that you are a lunatic? How do you define the word? Is it perhaps something that I am translating incorrectly?"

Sinking sideways against the back of the couch, Tarrant lets it take a great deal of his weight. He's tired, he's hurting, the couch is so nice. "I assume that anyone who would engage in some of the activities I have engaged in, despite well knowing that these things are wrong, would have to be criminally looney."

Corian gently lifts her hand as you sink against the couch, perhaps taking your movement as a cue that you don't wish to be touched any more. "But are they wrong?" she inquires quietly. After a moment, though, she shakes her head. "Please forgive me, Tarrant. This is hardly a good time for either of us to be engaging in philosophical debate."

But all to the contrary, Tarrant looks measurably sadder as your hand is removed. "Wrong? Killing people would seem to be wrong. And tricking them. And invading their privacy. It all depends on whether one believes the ends justify the means. A philosophical trap." He nods to that last, "It has, after all, been a long couple of days."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian rubs lightly at her eyes for a moment, thus missing the measurably saddenedness. "I suppose that I must believe that the ends justify the means," she says quietly, "As I have done much of the same, or contributed to that which would have the same result, yet I still consider myself a good, sane person." Hands lowering to her lap once more, she offers you a faint smile.

Noting the rubbing of the eyes, Tarrant fumbles to straighten up, "It's getting late. I oughta' let you be." He cannot help but echo the smile, although his own is just as faint.

Corian watches your straighteningness for a moment, then says quietly, "If you wish, you may leave, of course. I do not think that I will sleep for some time yet, though, because of my nap this afternoon." Her tone holding a faint note of amusement, she adds, "And I very likely should not comm Honalee -again- just yet."

Tarrant nearly dropping a crutch as he reaches down for them, Tarrant offers you a wry smile, "It is not that I wish to go, it is simply that you seem tired, and I don't guess having company is conducive to resting." He pauses a moment, "You said she knew?"

Corian hesitates for a moment or three before she answers. "I was... somewhat puzzled by your manner last night. Of late, I have been comming Hona when I need advice, or a friendly ear. So, after you left, I commed her." She shakes her head very slowly. "She will be pleased," she says, with a faint smile. "And I am tired, yes," she adds, "But I doubt that I would be able to sleep." Getting carefully to her feet, she tosses out yet another statement. "I am going to make some tea. Would you like anything?"

"Do you have perhaps a couple of aspirin I could have? I hate to ask..." Tarrant settles back against the couch, really loathe to have to leave, let alone make that trip again so soon. "I am sorry about last night. I was trying to explain. But I could not find the courage to do so."

Corian inquires, brows lifting fractionally, "Are you in pain, van'chela? Did Clara say that should be the case? Should I comm her?" She pauses in her tea-making to rummage in a cabinet, adding, "And an apology is unnecessary." She pauses a moment, perhaps running over part of the conversation, and adds, "I do not believe that I was very helpful in your explanation."

"I am somewhat sore, I doubt it is something odd. She did mention I'd feel as if something had hit me for a couple of days did she not? Which is, I suppose, appropriate, something did hit me." Tarrant looks somewhat confused, "Not helpful? How could you be, I was being exceptionally confusing."

Corian inquires, returning with water and a small, nearly-full bottle of the requested drug, "What hit you, van'chela?" She starts back for her tea, movements still graceful but somewhat careful as well. "And you were somewhat confusing, yes, but I think that I was even more confused than would be necessary."

Tarrant accepts both items with a thankful smile, "Thank you..." He tugs open the bottle, spilling out a couple of the tablets and closing it again. "Mister Sarducci. With considerable efficency. His training was impeccable of course." At the last he ahhs softly, glancing down. He swallows the pills, following them with the water rather than asking further.

Corian comes back with her tea, curling up lightly in her corner of the couch. "You're most welcome," she replies quietly. She frowns faintly at your response, saying, voice still quiet, "Mister Sarducci has quite a few of those to his account, it seems. And I have yet to catch my brothers, to tell them of his whereabouts--or, rather, that he is not in prison." She shakes her head. "I will have to make an effort to do so tomorrow."

"And I've still not gotten very far with that file," Tarrant says quietly, taking another sip of the water. "I shall make an effort at -that- tomorrow."

Corian seems more interested in the warmth of her tea mug, apparently, and in the spicy aroma of the tea, as she does not drink very much of it. "I am still able to assist with that, if you likew," she offers. "I have decided not to go down to work tomorrow--there is nothing pressing for me to do."

"I think Clara would likely have after me with a stick if I brought that up here. Although if at any time on the morrow you would like company, I am but a comm call away. An agent on crutches is of little use, and so it is unlikely I will be bothered by my own employer." Tarrant says looking somewhat bemused as he finishes off the water. "And I am supposed to be helping you out, after all."

Corian looks just a bit confused. She should be used to this by now, where you are concerned. "Why would Clara object if you brought the file up here? And... you are -supposed- to be helping me?" The emphasis is only faint, just enough to differentiate that word from the others. "Van'chela, you should feel no obligation. I am perfectly capable of looking after my needs."

"Clara suggested something along those lines, I -think-... I was somewhat less than conscious by the time she left." Tarrant reaches a hand out to one of your knees, a faint touch, just enough to gain attention and add emphasis for the words that follow. "And in helping you I find myself helped, if that makes any sense? I enjoy the opportunity to return the aid you have shown me. I just could wish I was currently more capable of aiding."

Corian looks rather troubled by your words pertaining to unconsciousness, but nods nonetheless, with a smile for your final statement. "Of course it makes sense, van'chela. It is a kindness to offer assistance, so it is only right that it should be enjoyable." One hand uncurling to rest upon yours, uncharacteristically warm from the heat of her mug, she adds, "And I do appreciate your help."

Well, with your hand upon his, Tarrant is hardly likely to remove it, instead just remaining comfortably where he is. "Just wish I could do more. I'm just glad the worst of it was an error. It's terrible that you had to suffer it, but at least the suffering is over."

Corian gives your hand a gentle squeeze, then returns her own to her mug. If she weren't utterly unconscious of what she's doing, she would be a horrible tease. "What you do is enough," she says, with a warm smile. "You are here. That counts for much. And I am quite glad that it was an error. Children are wonderful, of course, but I am hardly in a good situation to care for one." She shakes her head. "I am sure that it will be a most amusing story... eventually."

Tarrant brings his hand back as yours is removed, offering another half-wistful half-pleased smile. He nods, affecting a melodramatic sigh, "And I was so looking forward to being a prophet, or a disciple or something. Maybe an apostle, or is that like disciple? I could have written a gospel or something."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian laughs very quietly at your manner. "I am sorry to disappoint you, van'chela, but I believe that it is for the best that things are as they are. If nothing else... what school would be good enough for the hypothetical child? And I would have to obtain some form of religion." She shakes her head, with a quiet sigh. "No, no, rearing a child is difficult enough; rearing a Messiah would be that much more difficult. And we would all have to start referring to the -third- coming..."

"Ahh, but obtaining religion is easy. Just go down to Christ's Quik-E. They have all kinds of good pre-packaged religions. Just check the sell-by dates, you never know how long some of those have been sitting around." Perhaps it is the relief of no longer having to keep his secret, or maybe the effect of the painkillers, Tarrant is in a cheerful mood.

Corian blinks at you for a moment, perhaps a bit nonplussed, then inquires, utterly serious except for that amused glint in her gray eyes, "Can they be purchased with fries, or are they not an option to the wafers?"

"That depends. The regular ones accept some substitutions. But if the box smells at all like albatross, you really want to back off. Personally I'm suspicious of the seagully ones too, but the Latter Day folks don't seem to object to the birds, so perhaps they're safe." Okay, he's cheerful, but he's also tired, making really weird references.

Corian looks rather amused by that, inclining her head. "I will be sure to remember that, many thanks." After a brief pause, she observes, "It is late, and you sound tired, and I find myself growing weary as well."

Tarrant reaches down to fumble for his crutches, having to take three attempts to get them both properly in one hand. "It is indeed quite late, and last night was...perhaps less than restful. Thank you for your company, and your understanding."

Corian gets to her feet as well, reaching to help with the crushes as she may. "Of course, van'chela," she says, with a smile. "You are most welcome. I will see you tomorrow, I hope?"

Tarrant really does not have the luck with these crutches, but then the fact that he's overtired is not helping. He sets about the laborious process of geting upright and balancing on them, tottering rather heavily a moment. "Just comm me when you wish company, and I'll be here in a moment."

Corian regards you for a moment, brows furrowed in concern, then says, tone not really inviting argument, "I think that I should see you to your quarters, lest I worry. You seem somewhat less than steady, van'chela. I do not wish for you to injure yourself further."

Tarrant does start to argue it however, but of course as he does so he all but falls, catching himself however. "Steady and I are not working, no," he says quietly.

Corian smiles as she starts for the door, still sans shoes and apparently not bothered by it. (She's not pregnant, but, hey, she can still be barefoot.) "Thank you for allowing me to do this, van'chela." And she sounds sincere, too.

[Travelspam to 2nd floor housing deleted.]

It's something of an adventure of a trip, marble floors, crutches, and tricky balance do -not- mix, but Tarrant makes it without actually falling. Fumbling for his keys he stops at his door. "Thank you Corian, I appreciate the concern."

Corian inclines her head, with a warm smile. "You're most welcome, Tarrant. I hope that you dream sweetly, and I will see you on the morrow."

"I look forward to it, yes. Good night my friend, and a pleasant evening to you." Still looking a bit vague he manages the lock. Offering something that's probably supposed to be a bow, he heads into his closet.

Tarrant unlocks the door to room F10 and goes inside.

Tarrant has left.


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