9/7/99

Clara is in the back at the shooting range, single mindedly putting shots in a humanoid target at the far end of the range. Each shot is probably getting a lousy score, but when considered, they're all neatly at the shoulder or knee range, debilitating without being fatal. Where else would a doctor shoot?

Niko is not a midget, but he definitely looks scruffy. He's apparently skipping work somehow, as he's in the battered togs he uses for exercising. He pauses as he spots you, and ambles over to watch, though he doesn't say anything just yet. Distracting one who is shooting is bad, after all, even if it's a practice weapon.

Clara snaps off several more precise shots, ending with a final one that scores directly between the target's 'eyes', then taps at the controls to magnify her results while powering down the weapon. She turns to reach for a towel, then pauses at spying you, blinking. "Niko? Niko, are you all right?"

Niko offers an amiable grin. "Nice shooting. I'm fine, yeah. Why? Do I not look all right?" He manages not to pose, but he does straighten his posture somewhat.

Clara settles the blaster down on a stand for such and pads over to attempt to lift a hand to the scruffiness lightly, brows furrowed for an instant before she can't help but grin. "You aren't. You are? Oh, goodness. Does Ela know you're trying this?"

Niko manages not to duck away from the scruffiness-touching. Maybe he's gotten used to this. "Ela's seen it. She hasn't commented yet." There's an amused sigh. "Really, Clara, it's a perfectly normal thing, having facial hair."

"Not for me," Clara comments with a faintly amused expression, giving the scruffiness a final ruffle before heading over to check in her blaster, then snagging a towel to wipe her hands on. "I could think of a dozen ways to tease you about it, but then I'd be afraid you'd stop growing it in, and it's going to look -good-."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Well, yeah, not for -you-," Niko agrees, with a brief laugh. He scraches at the stubble, then grins. "I don't mind if it doesn't look good, I'd just settle for looking older. Be nice if it stopped itching, though. I almost stopped this morning, just for that."

"Boy, wouldn't folks be surprised if I did grow a beard though?" Clara muses with a laugh. "I have the proper pharmacueticals to cause the phenomenon, although I think I'll pass." She comes around the railing out of the shooting range to peer up at you curiously. "Older? What for? You don't exactly look like a child."

Niko shakes his head firmly. "No, Clara, as fun as it would -be- to have a bearded lady, I don't think you should do that. Though the look on Riley's face... nah." He shrugs at the query as he moves to check out a blaster as well, apparently deciding to get in some practice as well. "Yeah, well, nothing wrong in looking older, is there?" There's a crooked grin, as he dials up a target.

Clara hops up to a seat on the railing to watch thoughtfully for a moment, then chuckles. "That depends on who you ask, and how close they are to switching to a new decade. Personally, I'm all for staying twenty-nine for the rest of my life. You realize you're going to have to fight the women off, right?"

Niko whistles a fragment of a certain song, even though thirty is nowhere close to 'soon' for him. At that last, he blinks. "Fight the women off?" he echoes. "Uh, why? Kath," he adds, "Thinks it's silly, and that I ought to shave it off."

Clara recognizes the song and goes so far as to raspberry you, eyes dancing despite the circles under them. "Kath thinks that? Don't you dare listen to her, Niko Casymed. Unless Ela doesn't like it, I'd say keep it. A military regs approved beard looks really good on a lot of men." She pauses, then laughs. "You can always tell a military woman, y'know? Most women swoon over the uniform. Us? We swoon over men in the scruffy state."

"Well, if Ela doesn't like it, yeah, I'll get rid of it," Niko allows. He's whipped? Nah, he's just nice. "And, hey, no swooning over me," he adds, with a grin. "Kath's up there keeping an eye on the monitors, and she'd make comments to me about it later."

Clara glances around for the monitor, spots it, then clasps a hand to her heart and slipping off the railing to lean heavily against it. "Oh, -my-!" she drawls, along with a sigh of mock swoonfulness, then straightens again to fold her arms and watch the practice, snickering. "I'll just swoon over Riley whenever he takes a day off, will that work?"

Niko casts a look of mock-annoyance at you, though he's laughing. "Great. Now I'm going to get an earful about that. Kath's going to have a field day. I get no respect." Niko, the Rodney Dangerfield of the Complex? Well, unless Rodney's good at shooting, probably not. Though he's not quite up to Riley's skill level, he's still able to put the shots mostly where he wants them to go.

Clara flutters her eyelashes innocently, smiling in a rather angelic fashion before snickering and scooting forawrd to lean against the guard of the shooting aisle to watch thoughtfully. "You've gotten better," she observes approvingly. "Not that you weren't good before, but very nice shooting indeed."

"Have to get better," Niko replies amiably, stance fairly casual as he plinks off a few more shots. "Thanks, though. And don't -even- give me that innocent look," he adds, with a grin. "I know better."

Clara awwws quietly, carefully waiting between shots to reach over and attempt a poke in the ribs. "I am innocent though. Everyone says so." She lifts her brows at the other shots then. "Have to get better? Trying to beat Riley's score?"

Niko tips the blaster towards the ground as he turns to grin at you. Practice weapon it may be, but he's apparently still in the habit of doing that sort of thing. Shooting Riley was bad enough; Riley would very likely do great evil unto him if he shot you. "Hey, I'm realistic. I'd settle for getting close. Nah, it's just that this job does have its dangers, and I want to be able to take care of myself, other folks, that sort of thing."

Clara would likely do great evil if she were shot. Like cry. "Not a bad reason at all," she agrees amiably, peering out at the target again. "Want a moving target?" she offers after a moment of thought. "We could fire up the sim and play cops and robbers?"

Niko shakes his head, lifting his blaster to zap a little smiley face on the target. "Nah, I'll stick with the still ones, thanks. Got to go back to work before too much longer, after all." And, in fact, he calls the target closer, apparently stopping the practice. "Maybe later? For that matter, we still have to get a pizza at some point, don't we?" Well, and drink too much, but he doesn't say that.

"Later's good," Clara agrees affably, trying to stifle a yawn, and looking entirely sheepish for it. "I'd best get in a round of PT practice since my testing's coming up soon, and they'll have fits if I can't do as many pushups as I could last year." She pauses at the mention of pizza and the unsaid drinking, then grins slightly. "Yeah, we do. Just holler whenever you have an evening free, hmm?"

Niko catches that yawn, and shakes his head. "Maybe a nap, too, eh? Pushups on not enough sleep are no fun. Well," he amends, "Pushups generally aren't fun anyway, but you know what I mean. And I can holler, sure, but I might just comm, instead. It'd probably annoy folks if I wandered about the Complex, yelling your name."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara shakes her head slightly, a faint smile still in place. "Sleep's not an option," she explains with a slight smile, then shrugs. "Awww, it'd be amusing though. Although people would probably think you'd broken yourself again finally," she teases lightly.

Niko's brows quirk at that. "Not an option? Not even if you drink warm milk or that disturbing chammomile tea? Or do you have to fix somebody later today?" At the mention of breaking himself, he shakes his head, then starts over to check the blaster. "No breaking. I've sworn off that for a while."

Clara is quiet for a moment, thinking of an answer for this. "I just haven't felt like sleeping much, is all," she explains airily finally, shaking her head quickly. "No, I'm off duty today, so I figured I'd come down here and be productive. And you not breaking is a very good thing indeed. Keep it up, hmm? I'm all for my regenerator being lonely and unloved," she adds with a wry grin.

Niko shakes his head slowly. "Well, sleep anyway," he suggests. "Sleep's a good thing. It's your friend. I don't have to tell you that it's not healthy to not sleep." He pauses a moment. No, no double negatives. Lips quirking in a brief grin, he suggests, "I can get the regenerator a present, if that'll make it feel better, but it's just going to have to stay lonely."

Clara glances upwards, as if at the floors above, then shrugs lightly. "We'll see," she answers, obviously dodging the subject, then grinning slightly. "Buy it flowers, take it out to dinner, all that, hmm? That'll work. No worries, though, I'd rather it be lonely than you be broken."

Niko's expression suggests that he's not going to let this go, but he drops it for now, at least. "Take it out to dinner," he ponders. "Actually, that sounds amusing. Maybe I can make the Vendotron jealous."

Clara starts her way slowly out of the shooting range, but towards the weight machines rather than to leave, and laughs easily at that, a hint of relief in the tone. "Careful...it'll toss more soda cans at you. I swear you need to wear full combat armor before walking into the dining hall."

"Nah," Niko replies, with a faint grin. "It'll be practice for ducking. I've got to get back up to work, though. I'll catch you later, okay, Clara?"

Clara tosses a lazy salute in your direction, grinning amiably and nodding. "Back to work, oh duckly one. Tell everyone hello for me, and don't work too hard. Comm if you want to grab that pizza tonight," she adds amiably around another stifled yawn, then heads for an area of simple flat mats.

Niko returns the salute, and lopes out of the rec hall, off to the joys of RY-48 forms, most likely.

You walk towards the Central Atrium.

[Much time passes. Niko goes shopping.]

Greer moves here from the Java Quarter.

Greer has arrived.

Niko, as his beard-attempt is just sprouting, looks rather scruffy. He's peering at a display of alcoholic beverage, most particularly a bottle of clear stuff. He shakes his head, then, scratching lightly at his beard, before he turns and spots you. "Hey, there. You supposed to be wandering around on your own?"

Greer skips through stalls, trying to get a look at everything all at once, but Niko's voice brings her up short. She swings to look at him, and giggles, hands clapping over her mouth. "I can now. Mama said so. Cause I'm a big girl now."

Niko grins at that. "You're a big girl, eh? Well, congratulations, that's happy news. Hope you're not -too- big, though," he adds. "'cause, you know, some people say that when little girls get too big, they don't like chocolate any more. What do you think?"

Greer snorts softly. "They must be wrong. Doctor Clara likes chocolate, and she's a very big girl." She pauses to inspect a rainbow of fruit, then nods. "I'm -seven-," she beams proudly. "Not as big a girl as her or Mama, but still big enough."

Niko blinks at that. "You're seven now?" he inquires. "Why... that means that you must have had a birthday." He puts on a rather sorrowful look, at that. "And you didn't even tell me. Now, I'm just hurt. I thought that was -surely- the sort of thing that I'd be told."

Greer nods, then blinks, blanching. "Oh, oh no!" She reaches out with a hesitant hand, almost as sorrowful. "I'm sorry, I really really am. I don't like hurting people. But... it's just a birthday."

Niko considers that for a moment. "Well," he says slowly, though his brows quirk at the reaction. "You could make it up to me, how's that?" No, he's not a dirty old man. "You could let me get you a birthday present. That would make me feel -much- better."

Greer pauses, then beams, reaching for Niko's hand. "Really? It would? I do want you to feel better. Chocolate won't do it?" Her other hand withdraws a half-melted handful of chocolate kisses from a pocket.

Niko shakes his head as he takes that hand. "It would make me feel just as good as new," he promises. "You should keep the chocolate," he adds. "I think I'll be able to content myself with buying a birthday present for you. Now," he muses aloud, "We just need to find something. Was there something you wanted?"

Greer unwraps one of the candies and pops it into her mouth before giving you an inquisitive glance, then shrugs slightly and shoves the rest back in her pocket. "Books," she says, a little bashfully. "Always more books. Or horsies."

Niko looks as if he's considering this quite carefully. "Well," he says slowly, "A horse would probably not fit in your room, so why don't we go with a book instead, hm? Maybe a book about horses? Best of both worlds, I think." And there's also the fact that a horse is a little beyond his budget, but we won't go into that.

Greer's eyebrows rise. "Ooooh! Books 'bout horses! Do they really have those?" She holds up her hands, not letting go of yours, measuring a space about eight inches long, and giggles. "I mean little horses. Col-lec-tor models."

Niko looks decidedly relieved. "Okay, I could swing one of those. But seeing as how your mother seemed less than thrilled about the dart gun, I figured she'd be really less cheerful about a horse. But a collector, sure, yeah. And they -do- have books about horses, lots of them. My sisters all read them, so I ended up with a couple as well."

Greer tilts her head, a little surprised. "But she has -fun- playing with the dart gun..." She trails off, and beams, distracted by talk of books and horses. "Really! Oh, that makes sense. Knights should know 'bout horses," she nods, satisfied with her logic.

Niko chuckles very quietly. "Maybe I should get a dart gun for your mother, too, hm? So she doesn't play with yours." He grins, then. "Just let me get something here, and we can go find your birthday present. Sound good?"

Greer nods vigorously, grinning. "Whatcha buying?" is her curious question. "And that way, Mama and I can have big battles!"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Niko gestures towards that bottle. "Something to drink. The man says it's ouzo." And Niko's voice suggests that he might not -quite- believe said man. "And that's something that people drink on my homeworld." And, one-handedly, he offers over the appropriate amount of cash, receiving the bottle in return, in a drawstring bag. "Having battles sounds like lots of fun, as long as it's just with the foam guns."

Greer gives the bottle a curious look. "What world are you from? Can I try your ouzo sometimes?" Her pale complexion turns red, and she scuffles a toe on the ground. "Well, sometimes we use paper balls. We go through a lot of paper."

Niko grins at that, somehow managing an attempt at hair-ruffling despite not actually having a free hand. He's gifted, and fingertips are enough, for said purpose. "Paper balls are okay, too, as long as your mother doesn't mind. And the world that I'm from is called Hellas, but I don't know that you should try ouzo just yet. It's got alcohol in it, and even though you're a big girl, you should probably be a bigger girl before you try it." With an engaging grin, he inquires, "Shall we go find your present, now?"

Greer's nose wrinkles. "Alcohol? Like beer? Ptooey." She looks up at you with an adoring grin. "If it'll make you feel better, sure."

Niko manages not to snicker. "Ptooey, exactly, but some folks like me are weird and like it from time to time. And it'll definitely make me feel better, much better. Why don't we go to the bookstore and see if the folks there know of any good horse books, hm?"

Greer nods fervently, glancing around to get her bearings. "Or even bad ones! Ones with lotsa pictures."

Niko's bearings are quite had, and he starts in the proper direction, though he shortens his stride such that you won't have to hurry to keep up. "Well, certainly lots of pictures," he agrees. "I'm sure we can find a good one with lots of pictures, though. The people in the book store," he adds, "Are -very- nice, very helpful."

Greer hurries anyhow, rather eagerly. "You been to the book store before?" she clues in.

"I have, yup," Niko replies cheerfully. "My youngest sister wanted books in Standard, and she can't get them where she lives, so I got them for her. That, and it's just a fun place to snoop around."

"Where's she live?" Greer asks with absent politeness. "And how come she wanted 'em in Standard?" She looks up at you, eyes widening. "Mama says it's not polite to snoop, unless you get paid to do it."

Niko stifles a laugh. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said snoop. I just like looking around the bookstore, that's all. And she lives on Hellas, in a village called Mathraki. She wants the books in Standard so she learn Standard a little better."

Greer ohs! "I like looking around in the library. All the li-brar-ians know me. Oh! That's very smart of her."

Niko grins as he opens the door to the bookstore. "It's definitely smart of her. She's a very smart girl. And the library is a good place, too. You just have to take the books back, that's the only bad part about it."

Greer nods, her nose wrinkling. "But you can always get 'em again," she enthuses optimistically. "And they're always gonna be there." She takes a deep breath of paper and that aroma of new books, then gives you a curious look. "Are you smart too?"

Niko ponders the question as he closes the door, with a grin for the jingling. "Sometimes," he replies. "It depends on the subject. We all have our strengths, after all."

Greer giggles. "Like you know about SecOff stuff, right? Mama says you're -probably- good at that sort of stuff, but that taking the... position?... wasn't too smart." Her eyes widen as she gazes around, and she comes close to drooling. "There's more books here than at the library!"

Niko's grin turns just a bit wry at the parrotting of Tara's words. "Yeah, your mother has a point," he mutters. "I know SecOff stuff, though, you're right." He grins broadly at the reaction to the bookstore, though. "It's an amazing place." He releases you to wander, going over to talk to one of the clerks, presumably about horse books.

Greer moves toward the nearest shelves eagerly, running her fingers reverently over book spines, and turns her head sideways to read the titles available, her mouth moving as she does so. "Gonna come back here a -lot-," she murmurs.

Niko thanks the nice clerk lady, then pads back over. "Hey, get this. They've got lots of horse books. So which would you like--a story about horses, or nonfiction?"

Greer starts, and glances up with a blink. "What's nonfiction?"

"Books that are made up of facts," Niko replies. "Like a textbook would be fiction, or a book that explains how to do something. Or, in this case, a book about, say, different kinds of horses."

Greer nods, comprehension in her expression, and she looks -so- torn. "It'd be easier to understand horse stories if I learn about them first, wouldn't it?" she reasons. "That'd probably be the best thing."

Niko's grin is sympathetic. "Or," he suggests, "We could just get one of each. I think that would be perfectly reasonable, and then you wouldn't have to decide." Yes, he's spoiling, but, hey, his budget can stand two books, rather than one.

Greer gapes up at you, her eyes shining. "-Two-?" she breathes. "Really?" The girl tries to hug your leg, all she can really reach.

Niko brightens quiet a lot, and hunkers down so that the hug can reach his proper destination. "Really," he agrees. "Two horse books, that would definitely make me very happy... if you don't mind, of course."

Greer just beams happily, bouncing a little, and looks around wildly. "That would be so neat!" She gets herself under control, mostly, grinning a lot. "I want you to be very happy, of course. Where are they?"

Niko chuckles very quietly, and gestures. "The nonfiction ones are right here, the next shelf over." And, conveniently enough, the child-age nonfiction is on the child-height shelf. "The stories are over on that shelf with the red spots on the side."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Greer glances back and forth several times, almost dancing on her toes, and finally chooses to check out the nonfiction books first, reaching for those. "Do you know good horse stories from your sister?"

Niko considers that for a moment. "Yes," he decides finally. "It's a very old book, mind, but it's one that all my sisters liked. Let me see if they have it, and you can look and see if you're interested?"

Greer nods eagerly, mouth round with delight as she starts pulling promising books from the shelves. "That sounds like a very good re-com-men-dation."

"They have it," Niko calls quietly over one shoulder, padding back over with a book whose cover reads 'Black Beauty.' "It's a very old book," he repeats, "So it might seem a little stilted, but the girls liked it."

Greer peers at the book, and grins. "I dunno why horses would want to walk on stilts, but I'll read that one. And this one." She taps the book currently on her lap, then flips through colorful pages with lots of diagrams. "'History, Conformation, and Care of Terran Equines'."

Niko nods amiably. "Sounds good. Okay, so we have your birthday presents. If you will let me borrow that one, I'll take these over to pay for them, and then we'll be set."

Greer giggles, handing up her chosen volume, and stands carefully to start replacing the other contenders on the shelves. "Mister Niko? Thank you, very very much."

"You're welcome very very much," Niko replies, grinning as he heads over to pay for the books. That done, he comes back and offers over the bag in which the books were placed. "I'm very glad to do it."

Greer reaches out for the bag, hugging it to her. "Why?"

Niko grins at that. "Well, for one, it makes me happy. And part of that is because it makes -you- happy. Making people happy is a good thing, right? Especially people who are friends."

Greer nods firm agreement, then her jaw opens a little. "Oh! I'm a friend?" Awed, she is.

Niko nods firmly. "You're a friend," he confirms, grin growing slowly. "Most definitely. But, my friend, I'm afraid that it's getting on towards late." Offering a hand, he inquires, "May I escort you home?"

Greer wows softly, looking up at you adoringly. "Oh!" She glances toward the door, seeing darkness through the glass, and reaches for your hand. "Yes, please," she giggles, murmuring something about shilvery. "Mama's still in her meeting, probably."

Niko frowns just a touch at that as he starts for the exit. "Will you be okay by yourself, if your mother's still in the meeting?"

Greer nods, a bounce in her step as she follows along, precious books clutched to her chest. "She always says, if anything goes wrong, to call Security." She rattles off the emergency comm number.

You walk towards the Java Quarter.

Java Quarter

Obvious exits:

Shop Hill Zimmies Bar and Grill Pavilion

You walk here from the Shop.

Greer moves here from the Shop.

Greer has arrived.

"Tell you what," Niko suggests. "If anything goes wrong, or even if you just get a little scared or something, why don't you give me a call." And then he offers over his own comm number. Aww, isn't he nice?

Greer blinks and, slowly, repeats the number, a lilt at the end asking for confirmation as to its accuracy. "Really? Woooowwwwww. I never get scared though," she adds stoutly, and actually expecting the statement to be believed.

Niko nods first to the confirmation request, and then to the statement. "Okay, maybe if Murray gets scared, then. It's okay to be scared, though. I think everybody is, sometimes."

You head towards the Massive Open Air Pavilion.

Massive Open Air Pavilion

Obvious exits:

Aerie Hotel Steading Gate Bonded GuildHall Java Quarter Complex Gate

You arrive from the Java Quarter.

Greer arrives from the Java Quarter.

Greer has arrived.

[The rest of the travelspam is deleted.]

Greer seems dubious. "I bet -you- never get scared. Murray does, sometimes, though," she admits.

Niko hunkers down and shakes his head, expression serious. "I'm afraid you're wrong, there. I do get scared, sometimes. And that's okay. That's just something that happens sometimes."

Greer considers that for a moment. "It's really okay? Don't people laugh at you when you're scared?"

"It's really okay," Niko says firmly. He considers that last question for a long moment, then shakes his head. "Not the people that really matter, no. Like Doctor Clara, or my brother Riley--they'd never laugh at me, just for something like being scared."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

You have 8682 cows.

"I bet they don't get scared either," Greer notes softly, eyes distant as she concentrates on this information. "So people that laugh don't matter then?"

Today is the day of tough questions. "Hm," Niko says. "Well, sometimes they matter. It depends on why they laugh. Like Kathlyn--do you know her? She's the little Security lady with the blonde hair. Sometimes she laughs because -she's- scared. And I can guarantee that Riley and Clara get scared sometimes. I'll bet they'd tell you the same, if you asked them."

Greer listens carefully, then shakes her head. "I don't think I know her." Tara'd probably be horrified if her daughter -did- know Kath. "I'm going to have to ask them. Her. I don't get to see Riley too much. But Doctor Clara lets me have his fudge," she grins.

Niko grins at that. "You should definitely ask Clara. And I think maybe you should be heading to bed, too, hm? It's a little late even for big girls."

Greer blushes, turning as she fishes a key card from yet another pocket. *click* "Thank you for walking with me, Mister Niko. And for the books. And for being my friend?"

Niko gets to his feet, with a fond smile. "You're very welcome, Greer. Have a good night."

Greer beams, being cute, and offers a final hug before heading in. "You too!" She waves, and slips through the door.

Niko watches you go through the door, something not quite readable in his gaze.

Greer heads into K19.

Greer has left.

[Niko goes home.]

You say "Hey, there. You awake?" into the communit. [to Clara]

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Hmm? Oh, hey Niko. Awake is, most certainly. What's up?" in Clara's voice.

You say "I just thought I'd let you know that Greer's planning to come talk to you about whether or not you ever get scared." His tone is thoughtful. "She and I just finished up a chat on whether or not it's okay to be scared, see." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "*startled laugh* You're kidding, me? Oh, dear. Niko, I may not be the best person for her to talk to, you know? Is the poor dear frightened?" in Clara's voice.

You say "I don't know. If she is, she won't admit it. I bet she is, though, as she said that Murray sometimes is. See, I listed you as someone who wouldn't laugh at me for being scared, and she decided that -you- weren't ever scared." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "She thinks that?" There's a long quiet pause, then a quiet laugh. "I can put her straight about that, certainly. I'll check with her after school tomorrow, perhaps." in Clara's voice.

You say "I told her I was pretty sure that wasn't the case, and she said she'd check with you on it. So maybe she'll come find you herself. She really is a neat kid, isn't she? I took her to the bookstore this evening. The look on her face was amazing, but even better was when I told her she was my friend." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Oh...oh, Niko. Isn't she the most precious child? I...that was terribly sweet of you, certainly. It's good to know about the bookstore, though. Oh, the poor thing. She's come so far, though. Practically not the same child as when I met her." in Clara's voice.

You say "She really is amazing. Wonderful kid." There's a pause. "Oh, hey, have you eaten yet? Ela's stuck at work, and will probably crash when she does get home, so I'm free for pizza or whatever, if you're interested." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Eaten?" Clara sounds almost surprised at the idea. "Oh, no, I haven't eaten yet, no. Riley's not likely to come home tonight, so I've all the time in the world, actually. Did you want to come over? Or meet somewhere?" in Clara's voice.

You say "I can come over, you can come here, whatever works. I found something in the market that's -theoretically- ouzo, though I'm betting it's xima, if you're interested, too." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Very, very interested, definitely. I've got rum from home, too. I think Riley's got a bottle of rye in the cabinet. If the two of us make it through three fifths, though, they'll haul us down to Medbay, though," she decides with a wry laugh. "C'mon over, and I'll get some calzones called in." in Clara's voice.

You say "I'll be down in a bit, then. Just need to get rid of the evil uniform." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "Oooh, changing out of the uniform. There's a thought. See you in a bit." in Clara's voice.

[Niko goes to room Z13.]

Niko pads in bearing a bottle of a clear liquid. "Evening, Clara," he says amiably. "How's your evening?"

Clara is still on the comm ordering the food, but at least made it out of uniform and into jeans and a sweater, although her boots are in the closet and her hair is loose rather than pinned up. She disconnects the comm after a moment, and grins vaguely and climbs to her feet. "Niko, heya. It's an evening, certainly. Is that stuff meant to be drunk cold? Do we need to put it in the fridge?"

"That depends," Niko replies, with a crooked grin, "On how much we want to drink. We could do shots, which could involve chilling it, or we can drink it with ice water. If this really -is- xima, which I'll be able to tell once I actually taste it, we should probably go with the water unless we want to get drunk."

Clara heads into the kitchen and flips on the light before leaning against the counter to regard you steadily. "That, sir, I will leave to you. If you can deal with a looped doctor, I'm amiable. If you'd rather stay sober, this is good too," she explains with a faint grin. "Either way, we probably shouldn't drink much till after eating."

Niko nods a firm agreement to that. "Mezedes," he says. There's a pause, and a faint frown. "Uh... 'snacks to keep you from getting wasted,' I think that's how a friend defined the word. They're traditional, with this." He pads over to tuck the bottle into the refrigerator, apparently just in case shots are used. "A bit of a buzz might be nice," he says thoughtfully. "It's been a while. At least I'm quiet, with kefi."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara does look somewhat puzzled at the word, than aahs at the translation and reaches up into a cabinet to start tugging a pair of tumblers, then shotglasses down. "I've got calzones on the way, and there's a ton of cheese slices and crackers, too." She gives you a sidelong, almost wistful smile. "Not a bad idea, actually. It's been...oh, more than a few years for me. Kefi?"

Niko ambles over to sprawl bonelessly on the floor near the couch. "Kefi is... um, not obnoxiously drunk. Happy drunk, maybe. Sometimes people sing and dance, sometimes they just sit and are happy. I'm one of the quiet ones. That's not right, but it's close."

Clara reaches up to snag a bottle of Jamaican light rum from a high cabinet, obviously rarely used since she blows a little dust from the bottle, then holds it up. "Want some?" she offers, then grins a bit at the description. "I might have to let you tell me when to stop. I'm afraid I haven't a clue where I am when I drink. I have been known to sing," she admits sheepishly.

Niko peers to see just what's in the bottle, then, after a moment of consideration, shakes his head. "No, thanks. I generally stick with beer or wine, or the Hellenic stuff--ouzo, xima, raki or tsipuro, that sort of thing. On those rare occasions when I drink," he adds, with a laugh. "With a list like that, it must sound like I do that regularly. But I saw the 'ouzo,' and couldn't resist. After all, I owe quite a lot to ouzo." His tone holds just a touch of amused irony at that last.

Clara can't help but laugh at that, nodding as she opens the bottle and fills one of the glasses with it, then leaves the bottle on the counter before taking a slow sip. "We're even, then. This is straight from a distillery close to Kingston, so it's essentially a taste of home for me, too." She tilts her head with a grin. "You do?" She seems about to ask more until there's a knock at the door which she goes to answer, then returns with a pair of boxes and her glass to the couch and set all on the coffee table. "Voila, dinner is served."

"Mm, smells good." And, in fact, Niko straightens into a semblance of good posture for a moment, before getting to his feet and claiming the bottle. "Close enough to cold," he decides. Coming back, he nods. "Yup. If not for a bottle of ouzo, I never would've been conceived." He snags a shot glass, and pours, lifting the glass in a rather amused toast. "Let's hear it for alcohol."

"And to conception," Clara agrees, clinking her glass lightly to yours with a grin, then wrinkles her nose. "Well, yours at least," she adds before downing the last few sips in the glass and reaching for one of the boxes. "Can I ask how ouzo's responsible for you? Or would that be prying?"

Niko tosses back the shot, and then shakes his head. "Definitely not ouzo," he pronounces, "But close enough." Snagging the other box, he replies, "Not prying at all. Mom and Terrence drank too much of it, according to him, otherwise I doubt that she would have agreed to... well, that." No, Niko can't talk about his mother having sex.

Clara watches with interest at the pronouncement, then grins sympathetically. "Close enough is good enough, generally. Depends on what you're drinking, I suppose. I'm afraid I don't know much about ouzo, but I'm willing to learn." She breaks her calzone in two to start munching, then pauses to reach over and squeeze your shoulder. "You're here, and that's what counts. I can't be upset that they did that, given the result. If it helps, my mother was perfectly sober," she adds with a wink.

Niko pours himself another shot, then offers over the bottle. He does not, however, drink just yet, instead starting on his own food. Food is a goodness. "I have to say, I'm glad I'm here," he replies, with a whimsical grin. "And, hey, sober's a good thing, I should think."

Clara does indeed take the bottle, but does rise to go get the other shot glass before returning to her seat to fill it, then sets both bottle and glass on the table to resume eating as well. "I suppose it is, sure. I can't say Granmere and Granpere were all too thrilled with her being pregnant by a dirt-poor artist, though. Mother says he's a nice man, though."

"Nice is good," Niko decides, munching. "Terrence is, I guess, in a slimy sort of way. He told me about the ouzo, at least. It's an interesting thing to know. And he plays chess. This is good," he adds, gaze shifting to the food. "Did you get it from... whatsis, Luigi's? The place around the corner where Kayce goes, when he can get kicked out of the Complex."

"Terrence...I've only seen him from a distance," Clara admits thoughtfully, then shrugs. "Really only at that ball, when Riley had to talk to him." She glances at her food for a moment at the question, nodding slowly. "Luigi's, yes...their delivery service, anyway. Not quite as good as the restaurant itself, but better than anything I could make right now. They get Kayce out of the Complex? Gasp, oh, shock!"

Niko says drolly, "I think Kath threatened him. Funny how she can do that, but, hey, even though she's a tiny lady, she can still whomp most of the rest of us as far as hand-to-hand goes. Huh, Luigi's. I'll have to remember that. It's good."

Clara chuckles softly, working through her food and shaking her head. "Remind me not to take on Kath in hand-to-hand practice," she requests, reaching for the shotglass finally to take a small sip, then blinking slowly at the liquid. "Oh, -my-. That's entirely dangerous, do you realize this?"

Niko murmurs something in Hellenic, then grins rather crookedly. "'It can knock you on your ass in no time flat,'" he translates. "It's xima, I think. Doesn't have the licorice taste, so it really can't be ouzo. Very dangerous, though, yes, which is why I probably shouldn't have tossed back that first shot like that. You'll let me know if I start speaking Hellenic without telling you what I'm saying? That's generally when it's time for me to stop, if I'm not with folks who speak Hellenic."

Clara blinks at the translation, then dissolves into laughter and repeats it in French. "I'll tell you, sure. If I'm realizing it and not just enchanted by listening to it. I used to do that with Riley before I could understand Kashidian. Promise you'll do the same for me if I slip into French?" she requests, reaching over to poke your arm lightly.

"Bien sūr," Niko replies, with a really -atrocious- accent. "And, hey," he adds, with a laugh, "We drink enough of this, it's not going to matter -what- language we're speaking." He takes up his glass again, though he sips more cautiously, this time.

"Sounds good to me," Clara admits with a wry grin, finishing the last of her calzone and rising to take the box to the disposal, then heading over to put on the 'Throw it out the window' music. "And that, my friend, was awful French, although I can't say anything since I don't know a word of Hellenic beyond the names of food," she admits, returning to drop back to a seat on the couch and leaning back, raking her curls out of her face.

Niko intones, still with that horrible accent, "Je ne parle pas le franēais. I mangle it. Had a friend--other than you--who speaks it, and she taught me a little." No comments about learning a French tongue, thank you. He grins towards the source of the music, then shakes his head. "I predict that we're going to find these songs a lot funnier than they usually are. Or that I am, at least. And, hey, you can always learn Hellenic. It's a fun language, lots of nuance."

Clara lifts her brows at you in decided amusement while reaching for her glass again and easily downing its contents, then repeats the phrase in her own dialect, a rather heavily Caribbean accented French. "That's what I know, so it's probably good you don't learn it from me. I can only speak Parisian if I really think hard about it." She snickers lightly, nodding in agreement. "So long as you don't throw me out the window, we're fine. Nuanced? How so?"

"I won't throw you out the window," Niko promises, making short work of his calzone and taking up that glass once more. "That would be bad. Nuanced... subtle words, stuff that literally means something, but in context can mean something else." He pauses a moment, disturbing brows furrowing. "That makes sense... almost? Does it? Like kefi. Literally means... happy, I think. But that's not even close to the way to describe it."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara reaches for the bottle to refill her glass, then scoots back on the couch to turn sideways to face you, leaning sideways against the back of the couch. "I think I understand. I think there's a lot of words like that in most languages, to be honest. Except maybe German...they just make these insanely huge words to describe little things."

Niko tosses back the rest of that shot, then after a moment in which his eyes are closed, he re-claims the bottle for another. "Ah, but I have to insist that Hellenic is superior," he says, tone lightly jesting, "Or my family will be very annoyed. German is disturbing, though."

Clara actaully sips at hers for a moment, watching you with a faint grin. "Go right ahead, I won't argue with you. Standard's my native, actually, although we grew up speaking that and French. Well, and Patois, but that's just Standard with an accent. German's scary. Ever been to Terra?"

Niko shakes his head. "Grew up speaking Standard, now I'm jealous. I've never been to Terra, though. Just here and Evinast and Hellas." He's enunciating rather carefully, though his accent is a touch stronger. "Maybe someday, to Terra. I'd rather go home, though, I think."

Clara bolts back the last of her drink before reaching out to refill it, laughing far more easily. "Jealous? Don't be. I grew up sounding like a poppinjay," she admits, slipping back to the normal Brit accent, with a wry grin. "Poor Riley has to suffer through this whenever I'm tired. Terra...it really is lovely in places. Oh, not the cities. But the oceans...the islands. The mainlands, feh. To be avoided. What's Hellas like?"

"Dichotomous." Oh, with Niko's accent, that's a festive word. "And I'm jealous because it would've been nice not to have to learn it in school. And the alphabet weirdness." He ponders the level of his drink, then sips carefully. "Hellas is a wonderful place. Even the mainurb is backwards, though, compared to here. And the exurb, where I lived... -very- backwards. No regenerators," he adds, with a grin. "Casts. I hated them. Horrible, evil, itchy things."

"Oooh, that alphabet, I've -seen- that. I had to learn it, too, in high school," Clara admits with a slight intake of breath and a headshake, curls flying. "You speak Standard really quiet well, though. And the accent is simply charming." Her brows fly up at the lack of regenerators before a laugh escapes as she tries to poke you in the arm again. "Poor breakable duck. You must have itched all the time."

Niko looks a bit puzzled. "Why did you have to learn it? And thank you. I used to be much worse, especially when I first came to Evinast." He nods dolefully to that last statement. "Allll the time. That picture that you saw, of me in the cotte? What it didn't show was that they'd taken away the crutches for the picture, and the cast went up to here." He taps lightly at his left leg, just above the knee. "Almost tried to cut the thing off with a saw, it was itching so badly, but Dad stopped me."

Innocuous Penguin> Riley has disconnected.

"Oh, Niko," Clara breathes, laughing sypathetically, turning the poke to a squeeze on the shoulder before sipping at her own drink again. "We learned it as part of a classical education, proper for young ladies," she explains wryly, then wrinkles her nose. "No cutting off casts. Good heavens, shame on you. If I'd known you, I would have poked you." She pauses, then snickers. "Of course, I was only a teenager, myself."

Niko does not look enlightened. "The Hellenic alphabet is proper for young ladies," he murmurs. "Okay. Yeah. That's weird, Clara. And you'll note that I -didn't- cut off the cast. And I never dissolved any, either. I was good--relatively. Just stupid."

Clara raises a hand in surrender, shaking her head and laughing quietly. "Don't as me, not at all. I just know they made us learn the alphabet, as well as the Cyrillic alphabet, although we didn't learn either Hellenic or Slovanic. I never said the nuns had an ounce of sense." She nods slowly, smile warmly. "I'm sure you were, Niko. Just an active boy."

"Oooh, nuns." Niko mock-shudders at that. "Nuns are scary, and far, far too fond of rulers for my liking. He sips slowly at his beverage, then informs you, eyes sparkling, "If Mom had had her way, I would be a priest. Isn't that a frightening thought?"

Clara almost splutters, mid-drink, dissolving into laughter. "You? A priest?" She downs the last of her drink to settle the glass on her knee, shaking her head in mirth. "You'd make as good a priest as I would a nun," she exclaims. "I didn't even realize you were catholic, though. And nuns don't just have rulers, they have that -look-. The one where you -know- you're lost, and they know everything. Maybe omniscince it prerequisite for convents?"

Niko shakes his head. "Not Catholic," he replies. "It's... it doesn't translate." There's a murmured phrase in Hellenic, and then he shakes his head again. "Priests, nuns, it's close enough for what they are. But the better school in Mathraki was the one that they ran, so that was where we all went. Omniscience... well, it would make sense, I suppose."

"I'll have to learn Hellenic, then," Clara decides with another laugh, obviously far more relaxed. "Father Niko," she tries out thoughtfully, trying not to giggle. "Nope, I'm sorry, I just don't see it. And same here...Kensington was run by the church, but it was a good school, so I got sent there." She smirks slightly, shaking her head. "The fact that it was on one of the colonies was just convenient."

"Colonies being such disturbing places," Niko teases. "Learning Hellenic is good," he observes, adding, with quiet expansiveness, "Everyone should learn it." He tosses back that next drink, and again closes his eyes for a moment, all but radiating contentment and happiness. "Kefi," he murmurs. "Shouldn't drink much more."

Clara shifts an arm on the back of the couch to be able to lean her head on and watch you with a small smile. "Colonies are disturbing if you're supposed to..." There's a pause. "Er, live on them," she finishes somewhat lamely. "I probably ought to stop too," she agrees thoughtfully, peering at her empty glass, then giving the bottle a wistful look. "Oooh, Anya could be a nun...she's omniscient."

"Anya," Niko observes, "Is not always right. Don't tell her I told. She'll make me guard grass or something." Though his eyes were still closed, they open a bit so he can peer at you. "Living on colonies can be good. Liked it quite a lot. Even Hellas City."

Clara gives in to temptation and actually does refill her glass, inhaling a gasp of mock shock. "Anya isn't? Armageddon is nigh!" she exclaims, then laughs and shakes her head lightly. "The planet colonies are fantastic. The station colonies orbiting Earth? Static. Like living in a big tin can." She slumps a bit into the couch cushions, regarding the glass thoughtfully. "Most of my friends are colonists now."

Niko shakes his head. "Tin cans are bad," he decides, though there's a quirk of a brow as you refill the glass. "Shouldn't go past kefi," he murmurs, before dissolving into Hellenic for a moment. "Mm," he says, and then hauls himself back to Standard. "It's happening. I should go to bed, go sleep. And I should hope that I don't have a hangover tomorrow, or the not-so-omniscient Anya will likely make fun of me."

"Living in tin cans is worse," Clara responds with a chuckle, then tilts her head to regard you for a moment thoughtfully. "Hellenic is a very nice language," she points out quietly. "Come see me in the morning, I can give you something for a hangover if you have one," she suggests, reaching over to try to squeeze your hand. "And if Anya asks, tell her you were keeping me company."

Niko squeezes your hand in return, companionably. "She'll still make fun," he replies, speaking with apparent care. He gets to his feet, then, with only a bit of a waver. "See you in the morning, yes. And I promise not t'trip up the stairs and break myself." He heads towards the door, then, steps as careful as his speech. "G'night, Clara. Sleep." And, it may be noted, he doesn't snag the bottle.

Clara pushes up slowly to her feet as well, settling the still full glass on the table and following you to the door with slow steps. "Don't trip, no," she suggests thoughtfully. "Do be careful, Niko?" She glances back at the bottle still on the table and looks up at you solemnly. "Thank you," she adds in a quiet murmur. "Sleep well, Niko," she adds, attempting a brief hug.

Niko returns the hug warmly. "Y'welcome, Clara. Sleeping's good, definitely going to sleep. You should sleep, too. Sleeping's good." There's a pause. "'d I already say that?" With a brief, boyish grin, Niko opens the door to step into the hall. "G'night, Clara."

You walk towards the Third Floor Elevator Lounge.


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