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:
Tara, standing by the door.
Obvious Exits:
Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge
Kramer, uniform rumpled as always, probably has a reason for the rumpledness this time. The man looks like he climbed a mountain and fell down the other side, or at least has been away long enough to do so. Still, he taps away at his terminal, stifling a yawn before doing a double take at the newcomer. "Miz Valentine? Er...welcome back. Can I help you?"
Tara comes to a halt before the desk, inclining her head. "Yes, thank you... Ah, the docs at the prison told me to get this checked in a couple of weeks," she gestures toward the patch over her right eye. "And it's been a couple of weeks." The ex-con hesitates before asking, "Would Dr. Aleron be available? There's some... things I need to ask her about."
For once, (make note of the occasion!) Kramer doesn't seem to know exactly where Clara is, and has to lean forward to buzz her office. After a few moments of this, it dawns on him she's not there. "She's not in her office," he explains the obvious. "Would one of the other doctors do? We have a new one on staff, Dr. Foster..."
Tara bites her lower lip, glancing in the direction of Security. "That'd be fine, I suppose, for the checkup, but, uh... Well, it concerns G'ben..."
Kramer may be exhaustion on a stick, but he at least recognizes that particular name. He lifts a hand in the universal gesture of 'just a moment', then procedes to comm someone, presumably Clara.
Tara smiles politely, taking a step back from the desk. "Thank you, sir."
Kramer stifles a yawn and offers after switching off his comm, "The Doc's on her way."
Clara arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Clara has arrived.
Tara nods, peering at Kramer. "I appreciate it. Uh, pardon me for mentioning it, but you look like you could use a nap." Her attention on him, nonetheless she whirls at the sound of footsteps behind her, swallowing hard when she spots the good doctor.
Clara is almost as tired as Kramer, but seems to have gotten a shower and at least changed into fatigues at some point, although her hair is loose rather than neatly pinned up like usual. "Kramer, shut it off and go home," she orders peremptorily, softening the order with a grin before turning to start to speak to the patient and stopping cold. "Valentine."
Tara looks a little chagrined. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to disturb your rest, certainly."
Clara takes a moment to take in more than the fact that Tara Valentine is standing there, and actually observes the older woman with a vaguely worried frown. "No..no, it's all right. I got a nap in, that was all I needed. What can I do for you?" she adds, gesturing vaguely at the patched eye. Kramer is actually shutting down his terminal, and heads out. He must be zoned.
Tara nods her thanks to Kramer before turning back to Clara. "Well, secondarily, they told me to get a checkup to make sure the socket's not getting infected or anything." She hesitates before noting, "I do appreciate you taking the time to come down."
A flash of definite sympathy crosses Clara's face. She may not particularly like this woman, but it doesn't make her incapable of compassion. "No, no, I can utterly understand. Jones is likely better for this than me, but please, have a seat?" She waves at a bioscan and tries to stifle a yawn as she goes about collecting the proper gear.
Tara nods, stepping precisely over to the machine to settle down. "I'll take your word for that. But as I needed to talk to you about some other stuff, it seemed efficient to ask for ya, ma'am."
"Other stuff?" Clara's not quite up to full speed as she stifles another yawn and settles several instruments in a row, plucking up a scanner first before crossing to stand before Tara and gesturing at the patch. "May I?"
Tara mhmmms, grinning faintly. "Whatever you need to do, Doctor. Yes, other stuff... I need your... advice," the word comes out reluctantly. "Concerning G'ben and Admiral Addison."
Clara has to pause at this, utterly nonplussed. "You want advice from me? Er...all right?" At the clarification, she glances down a moment in thought, then reaches forward to remove the patch and consider the wound clinically. "G'ben and Addison are people I can comment on, I suppose. Your lad's done well for himself, by the way," she notes with a fond smile.
Tara nods with a wry smile, basically ignoring her own lack of one eye. But you should see the tricks she can do with that empty socket! "So I've heard. I've heard other things too, and that's what I need to ask you about. See, rumor has it DeMario wants me to get involved in G'ben's upbringing again."
Clara would probably faint at any such tricks, or at least her player would, who has a far weaker stomach than the doc does. For now, she merely scans the wounded area thoughtfully, head tilted to be on the lookout for infection. "Does he now? Well, G'ben legally is your ward, and...I assume you're out on parole and not escaped? It makes all the sense in the world." Doesn't mean she has to like it, though.
Tara shakes her head slightly, trying not to interrupt the examination. "He isn't. He's DeMario's, legally. I arranged for that before I left. It was rather a busy night that night," she remarks wryly. "And yes, I made parole. Model prisoner."
Doya perks up at that. "Model prisoner, you are? Fashion shows, the prisons have? Bikers, the prisons have?"
Clara pauses with the scanner, then clicks it off to regard the woman for a moment before snagging a rolling doctor's stool and drops to a seat on it. She has to grin at Doya though, shaking her head. "Women's prison, would be my guess, Doya. Could you get me a post-retinal scanner, please?" She peers back up at Tara thoughtfully. "What do you want to do? G'ben...he's not the lad you left."
Tara glances toward the nurse, eyebrows rising as she snickers. "I behaved," she translates. "And it was a co-ed prison, actually. Yeah, I've seen G'ben running around and all. He looks well. And apparently he still wants to go to the Academy? Well, the question I've got now is, if I do help DeMario out, how's that gonna look for G'ben in the future?"
"Women, bikers are as well," Doya mentions, as she scurries to get the device in question. "Bikers of both genders like I. Coed prison fashion shows, I would enjoy."
"Well, of course. It's all the leather," Clara notes solemnly to Doya, doing her best to keep a straight face as she waits for the instrument. Tara gets a long, evaluative look. "I...don't know, Valentine. To be honest, family is something they take into consideration in the admissions process. Hells, it's how I got -into- the Academy."
Tara snickers quietly, but sobers at Clara's words. "Exactly. Officially, of course, I'm not his guardian anymore, so that helps, I'm sure. But the chance of them finding out if I help raise him..." She shakes her head. "I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I'm not sure I want to risk that."
Doya returns to offer the device to Clara, then peers up at Tara. "Biker you do not appear. Snazzy that eyepatch is." Yes, folks, we're crossing Yoda and The Cat. (Mine this is and mine this is. Available, my body now is!)
"His grades are good, he's frighteningly bright and creative, and I'd certainly give him an official reccomendation for his application," Clara muses, then tilts her head placidly. "But I think G'ben's missed you, Valentine. I can't say it's necessarily best if you resume legal guardianship, but I do rather think that psychologically, he'd be too young to understand if you had nothing to do with him. He'd feel rejected. Thank you, Doya," she adds, rising to start the additional scan.
Tara nods with a grimace. "That's what I thought too. The kid's sensitive, for all that he grew up on the streets." She lets out a dry laugh. "Snazzy it may be, but it's also awfully un-handy."
"A handpatch it is not," Doya replies agreeably. "An eyepatch it is. Handy it should not be. Know you bikers, mmm?"
Clara is honestly trying to be serious, and nods sagely at Doya's words despite the laughter in her eyes. "He has a point. And G'ben is bright, like I said. He just needs someone to care about him. More than just giving him a roof and food," she adds gently.
Tara groans softly at the pun. "Yes, I do know a few." She pauses, reluctant to recognize the truth in Clara's words. "Yeah, I... I'll have to see what can be discreetly done."
Doya perks up at that, his ears wiggling. "Introduce me, you will?" Or help you he will not? He starts to scuttle off without waiting for the answer. "Introductions, yes. Very good, introductions, mmmm."
Clara shakes her head at the nurse, vastly amused and murmuring, "Medbay. Singles meeting place for Linnae." She finishes the scan and snaps off the instrument before reaching up to replace the patch. "The healing is coming along nicely. No infection at this point. We can look into cosmetic surgery in a few months. Is there anything I can do to help with G'ben?"
Tara chuckles quietly. "Soon as they get out, sure," she tells Doya. "Cosmetic surgery?" She shakes her head a bit. "Can't afford that, Doctor. Which brings me to the subject of Admiral Addison." The ex-smuggler hesitates, then shrugs. "Nothing I can think of off the top of my head, but if you'd be... available in the future for further consultation, I'd really appreciate it."
Clara shakes her head, resuming her seat on the rolling chair and raking back the curls that have flopped into her face with an almost smile. "Valentine, I'm a Fleet Medic. I get paid the same as any other major in the service, whether I do work on my own time or not. You want cosmetic surgery on that, I'll do it. I'm not as good as Jones, but he's a civilian, and would have to charge." She nods at the request solemnly, then tilts her head. "The subject of Addison?"
Tara blushes sheepishly. "I appreciate that, Doctor. I really do. I don't like sticking out like a sore thumb." She takes a deep breath. "Yes, the Admiral..." She glances around, noting ears nearby.
Clara follows the glance towards the various nurses and interns about and rises smoothely, gesturing towards the back hallway. "Would you care to step into my office?" Step into my parlor?
Tara nods gratefully, getting to her feet. "That'd be the better part of valor," she agrees.
Clara walks towards the Chief Aleron's Office.
Clara has left.
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:
Clara
Obvious exits:
Medical Bay
Clara makes her way into the room, giving a rather wistful look at the space where McCoy is no longer and heads around to seat herself behind her desk, waving at one of the chairs before it. "Please, have a seat. Would you care for something to drink? Coffee, tea, soda..."
Tara drops into the indicated chair, sitting ramrod straight and starting to look a bit wary. "Soda'd be fine, thanks, whatever kind ya got. A rare treat."
Clara turns her chair around to start the coffee maker before leaning down to explore the tiny cooler unit behind the desk. "Red cans, blue cans, and orange cans. Oh, and one of the green kind. And you can relax, I won't shoot you, you know," she adds, almost amused, and obviously teasing.
Tara starts slightly before sheepishly forcing herself to relax into the chair. "Blue, of course. Yeah, I know," she attempts a feebly-offered jest. "You're a doctor. You can do things worse than shooting."
Clara turns about to slide a blue can across the table, half smiling as she nods. "Blue cans, the drink of heathens," she teases. "And yes, I could do far worse things, but I won't." She obtains a mug of coffee and takes a long grateful sip before settling comfortably in her chair. "Now...about Addison?"
Tara pops the can open, guzzling half of it down. "I'm a heathen, I'm a heathen!" is her enthusiastic comment. "Ah yes, Admiral Addison. Okay, this is going to sound a bit odd, but I sort of need to sound things out before I go talk to him. Is he... I mean, did he say anything after I... left?"
Clara is unable to stifle a quiet laugh at the enthusiasm, downing another measure of her own life-saving coffee. At the question, she half-closes her eyes at trying to think. "Let me think...it's been a year. He did tell me that you gave yourself up, I know that. Are you looking for something specific? If nothing else, I can ask him discreet questions."
Tara's eyebrows arch. "Generous statement on his part." One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. "Okay, maybe I can get more specific. Does he hold a grudge?"
Clara is very quiet for a long moment. "No." After that, her brows furrow slightly in thought. "At least, I don't think so? Ril-...Addison's not exactly the type to hold grudges, from what I know of him. He deals with things on a here and now basis."
Tara nods slowly. "That's pretty much what I was thinking too. He just seemed so..." She shakes the memory off. "That's a relief."
"So...? He seemed so what? When I spoke with him, he was disappointed," Clara offers calmly, taking another drink from her mug before turning about to refill it. "But then, like I said, it's been a year. A lot of water's passed by under the bridge. Surely you have a reason for being worried about it?"
Tara winces hard. "Disappointed. He seemed so disappointed. Uh, well, yeah. I need to ask him for a favor."
Clara glances upwards, although rather at the third floor instead of as if looking for deific help. If she needed that, she'd look at the coatrack. "Then I'd say you need to talk to him, except to my best knowledge, he's asleep. I can wake him if it's really necessary..."
>>OOC: Tara snickers.
>>OOC: Clara grins and showers the coatrack with cupcakes, just on general purposes. *snicker*
Dangling from the coatrack, >>OOC: Purloined Penguin heys, better a cupcake shower than a golden shower.
Tara shakes her head quickly. "It's necessary- well, actually, it's a desperate last hope- but only from my point of view, and I've got a couple days left before I'm up a creek without a paddle."
Clara exhales a quiet sigh and downs another measure of coffee. "I'm going to trust your judgement, Valentine, because you seem a very different person than you were before you left. Please don't let that trust be misplaced," she notes placidely, then taps at her comm reluctantly.
Clara says "Chief? It's Major Aleron, sir. Do you have a moment?" Goodness, doesn't she sound frighteningly formal." into her communit.
Clara's communit crackles to life and announces "Hwuh? Huh, umm,... He sounds less than..." in Riley's voice.
Tara blinks, a half-protest dying on her lips. "No, really..." She hunches down in her chair a bit, whispering, "You're probably going to think it's frivolous..."
Clara says "I'm sorry to wake you, sir, I really am. But...I've a visitor in my office I believe has reasonable grounds for wishing to speak with you. Are you available?" into her communit.
Clara pauses after another communication, brows lifting. "I thought you said it was urgent? Valentine, please...I'm not so hard-hearted as to think any reasons you might have would be frivolous. Would you rather I told him not to come down?"
Clara's communit crackles to life and announces "... yeah, sure.... do I... to?" in Riley's voice.
Tara grits her teeth, admitting, "I am rather desperate..." She sighs. "Might as well hit him in his off-hours. Sure, ask him down, if he's not too busy."
Clara says "My office, please? I'll have a cup of coffee waiting for you. I think I even have a chocolate bar. Thanks, sir." into her communit.
Tara downs more caffeine, trying not to look /too/ nervous.
Clara's communit crackles to life and says "... be there... soon... I can." in Riley's voice.
Clara turns about in her chair to fix up another cup of coffee, shaking her head. "See? You have a reason for needing to speak with him, then, if you're desperate. Relax for now, or try to, hey? He's generally an easy-going person unless he has a reason not to be." She peers at her comm, then nods. "Might be a few moments."
Tara nods sheepishly. "Yeah, I know he is, or I'd've never have even considered asking him." Her eyes flick to said comm. "He didn't sound particularly coherent."
Clara reaches over to set the coffee mug in front of the empty chair before tugging a chocolate bar from her desk and placing it by the mug. "We had a long night. He spent his in his office. He was at home when I called."
Tara winces. "Well, at least I know he won't pound me for waking him up. He's not the type."
Riley walks here from the Medical Bay.
Riley has arrived.
Clara actually chuckles at this, shaking her head around another sip of coffee. "No, not exactly. He'd be more likely to...Chief Addison," she breaks off, rising slowly to her feet. "Thank you for coming, sir," she offers as the door opens. "I believe you know Miss Valentine?"
Tara hears the door move behind her, and goes still for a second, then gets to her feet to turn and face the Chief, her gaze rock steady on his knees. "Hello, sir," she greets him softly.
Riley is looking considerably worse for wear, one arm in a sling, uniform still a bit crisped, and of course having just been woken up. He gestures with the working hand to Clara, "Sit, sit." He pauses a moment and blinks, "Tara, it's been a while. Good to see you again."
Clara sinks back into her seat again with just a hint of a fond and apologetic smile for Riley as she gestures at the second seat before her desk. "You too, boss. No fooling your doctor, sit down, please."
That makes Tara look up with a startled blink, her eyes pausing on burns and sling. "A long time, yes. It's... good to see you too, sir, even in less than perfect condition."
Riley sinks down into a chair with a nod to Clara and a bemused but grateful grin. He nods to Tara, "Time's been less than kind, I see."
Clara rewraps her hands about her mug, watching the other two thoughtfully. "Miss Valentine is on parole," she notes quietly. "She needed to speak with you, and I judged it too important to wait till morning," she adds.
Tara nods ruefully, settling back down into her own chair. "/Doing/ time's even less kind." She shakes her head a little. "Fast as the Admiral moves, it probably could've waited, but..."
"What can I help with?" Riley questions quietly, propping himself against the back of the chair, and hence properly upright.
Clara is quiet by now, happily ensconced in her beloved office chair with a cup of cheerful coffee. Just no skeleton. She stays quiet, letting Tara make her own request.
Tara takes a deep breath. "As the doctor mentioned, I'm on parole. One of the conditions of that parole is finding... shall we say... a legitimate occupation. Obviously I'm not about to go back to smuggling any time soon. I've got my ship- I'd thought of starting up with some legal shipping, but without capital, that's rather difficult. So I approached various companies known to hire pilots, only to be told they don't hire ex-cons... at least, not without a damn good personal reference..."
"Ahhh," Riley murmurs softly, looking rather thoughtful. "And you would appreciate it if I provided this reference."
Clara's brows shoot up at this as she tilts her head, not interrupting, but the mental gears obviously turning.
Tara finishes off her soda, giving Clara a grateful look as she sets it on the doctor's desk. "I would," she admits. "And yeah, I realize just what it is I'm asking. Once I realized you could probably get a look at my prison record if you wanted to- the one that shows I never /started/ any trouble, at least- well, hope sprang anew. I believe it's fertilized by desperation at this point."
Riley nods simply, reaching up with his good hand to ruffle through his rumpled hair. "Yes," he replies quietly. "You can use me as a reference, just have folks contact me during business hours, n'all."
Tara almost falls off her chair- apparently she was not expecting that answer. "What?"
Clara flickers a glance at Riley along with an almost imperceptible nod at this decision, and offers quietly, "I'd rather not see the Chief bothered at home, if I could make that request?" Never mind that it's her home too. She blinks slowly at the other woman's reaction.
Riley looks rather bemused, "Did you not think I would accede?" He shakes his head, bemused, "Tara, I have always been willing to give people second chances. I have been given too many myself."
Tara nods numbly to Clara, murmuring, "Of course." Riley's words make her blush. "No, sir, I... Yes, you have, but... Well, let's just say my optimism is at a rather low point these days." In hasty afterthought, she stammers, "Thank you. I can't say how grateful I am. You're quite literally probably saving my hide."
"We've all needed second chances at times," Clara adds in solemnly, setting her mug on the table. "And if the reference doesn't work...well, we can check into something else. The more reputable you are during G'ben's formative years, the better chance he has."
"Anything else?" Riley questions softly, offering a vague smile as he shifts to the edge of the chair.
Tara nods to Clara with a wry smile. "Kinda ironic, that aspect." She hesitates before answering Riley. "No, I should probably be able to handle the other item myself, thank you."
Clara tries desperately to stifle a yawn, mainly by grabbing at her coffee cup and downing another measure of it. "Thanks for your help, sir." She rubs absently at her eyes, then peers at Tara. "Other item?"
Riley clambers up to his feet, nodding simply. "I'm gonna head back down the hall then. Good evening ladies."
Clara tilts her head at the departing man, noting quietly, "Riley...you need sleep." Hello kettle. Come in, kettle.
Tara gets to her feet to nod to Riley. "Thank you again, sir. Hope you feel better soon."
"I'm gonna pick up some folders, then head back upstairs," Riley explains quietly to Clara, nodding as he leaves.
Riley walks towards the Medical Bay.
Riley has left.
Clara is unable to keep from shaking her head or hide a small but excessively fond smile before she drains the rest of her coffee. "You mentions a second area of concern?"
Tara drops back into her chair, letting her amazement show on her face now. "Huh? Oh... yeah. I've been thinking of seeing about acquiring quarters here in the Complex. There's a lot of ex-cons just like me living in the Underground, which normally wouldn't be a bad thing, except that associating with 'em in any way is a parole violation. Even going down to the Vault for a beer could be seen as suspicious."
"Try the Fruvous, then," Clara responds absently, glancing back wistful at her coffee pot before shaking her head slightly. "Great music, decent prices on...well, I don't drink beer, but the rum is good. As for the other, I can get Security to issue you quarters here on the second floor?"
Dangling from the coatrack, >>OOC: Purloined Penguin says "Kathlyn'll be -happy- to take care of that! 0:)"
>>OOC: Clara snickers! Evil Kath!
>>OOC: Tara snickers!
Tara laughs quietly, surprised to find herself untensing. "And on karaoke night one can make a fool of oneself without seeming too idiotic." She blinks. "Security? Thought it'd be a maintenance thing?"
"That's what I thought when I first got here," Clara assures, almost amused, but really too tired to be terribly expressive. The day is starting to catch up with her excessively. "But Security it is. I can call over there and get the situation in motion if you like? I'm not their Chief, but for some reason, most of the Security guys are nice to me."
Tara nods, sheepish once again. "I hate to keep prevailing upon you..."
Clara holds up a hand and leans over to tug up the comm headset from her side desk and pull it on. After several moments of conversation, she peers over. "What's your middle name and ident number?"
Tara wrinkles her nose. "Elizabeth." Nope, she ain't too crazy about that name either. "RT476-" The ex-smuggler pauses, looking annoyed at herself, and rattles off a completely different number instead.
"Hold on a sec," Clara murmurs into the comm after giving said middle name, and faces you fully, bland in her weariness. "Which is it, Valentine? I'm not going to give Security a fake ident, and if I have to gen-scan you for the right one, I have the authority to do so."
Tara shakes her head quickly. "The second one's right. The other's the one I've gotten use to providing over the last year or so. It's a prison ID number."
Clara actually offers a somewhat sympathetic look at that and nods once before rattling the second number into the comm set. After several moments of conversation, she tugs it off of her head, leaving curls sticking out at odd intervals. "Room K19 here on the second level in General Housing is all yours."
Tara blinks, and snickers. "K19. Sounds like a kennel or something," she jests, but she's sincere as she adds, "Thank you. Dang, it's starting to get easier to say that."
Clara actually cracks a grin at that, uttering a quiet laugh. "You've a point, but I'm sure it's a very nice room rather than a kennel." She tilts her head and offers an honest smile. "You're welcome, Valentine. And welcome back, by the way. If Addison will give you a second chance, I'll stand behind him all the way."
Tara arches an eyebrow at that, returning the smile wryly. "You trust his judgement that much?"
Clara is quiet for a moment in choosing her words, then offers, "I trust Addison completely. I would trust him with my life, were it necessary."
Tara nods understandingly. "I would too. Wouldn't be the first time. Of course, your relationship with him would be rather poor if you didn't trust him, eh?" She pauses, and blanches. "Or has that situation changed?"
Clara lifts a brow, a hint of amusement breaking through the calm exhaustion. "My relationship with him? Precisely which relationship did you mean?" she asks, not sounding offended in the slightest.
Tara hesitates, feeling the ice thin. "Er, last I knew, you two were... together."
Clara's lips quirk slightly as she lifts her shoulders just a hint as a precursor to settling a little more comfortably in her chair. "We've been cohabitating for over a year now, if that's what you're saying. I just hadn't known you knew. But yes, it's because he's my lifemate that I trust him implicitly."
Tara grins. "Doctor, I saw the way you two looked at each other at that costume ball. That party's been a very dear memory to me over the last year- it was the last really good time I had before the arrest. And besides... Well, you were gone at the time, but did you hear about when the Admiral and Commander Casymed and I got trapped in that cave-in in that bloody temple?"
Dangling from the coatrack, >>OOC: Purloined Penguin says "Literally bloody. *grin*"
Dangling from the coatrack, >>OOC: Dust Puppy snickers.
>>OOC: Tara snickers. GOMH.
Clara actually reddens slightly at the memory of the ball, smile broadening as she nods slowly. "Riley in a tux...I'm afraid it was just one of those times I forgot to be professional in public." She looks back up then, smile fading as she nods. "He told me that it happened over the comm while I was at the Outpost."
Tara mhmms, sobering slightly. "Well, shortly after that I went up to his office for a chat. We talked about you, among other things- he wasn't explicit or anything, but the look on his face when he talked about you... I've never seen a man so hopelessly lost."
Clara rakes her hand back through her hair, taking a moment to untangle a few of the curls from around her finger. "I...being separated...was very difficult. For both of us. We aren't married, but we do share a permanent bond similar to it. I guess I can get away without calling him 'sir' in front of you then?" she asks in weary amusement.
Tara laughs, giving the empty soda can a wistful look. "Yes, ma'am, you can at that. I /did/ rather wonder why you were acting so formal toward him when you commed him, and when he got here. I doubt I'd've asked you about him in the first place if I didn't think you had knowledge of him beyond that of fellow officers."
Clara may be half-way to passing out from exhaustion, but at least she can turn about and tug out another blue canned soda and slide it across the table after shutting her coffee pot off. "You could say that, yes. I just tend to revert to officer, CO standing when uncertain," she explains, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a yawn.
Tara takes the can with a grin, which fades into chagrin at the yawn, and she pops to her feet. "I'm sorry, I'd completely forgotten I dragged you away from your rest."
Clara shakes her head with a wistful grin, rubbing at her forehead. "It's okay, Valentine. You needed to talk to me. I wouldn't be a doctor if I didn't let people drag me out of bed. I might have to try to make my way home, though, unless you had any other questions? Or is there anything you need? Do you have credits for the short-term, at least?"
Tara shrugs a little. "I've about fifty left. Enough for ramen, at any rate. Not," she adds with a slight smile, "That I'd accept a loan. I'm honestly not sure my pride could withstand that, though I'm truly grateful for all you and the Admiral have done for me today. I do have just one question." An impish twinkle appears in her eyes. "When you called over to Security about my quarters, did whoever you were talking to make any funny noises at the sound of my name?"
Clara rolls her eyes at that, suppressing another yawn and smiling faintly. "Hey, we both get paid to help people. And if you -do- need financial help, come see me, please? I have...additional resources," she explains circumspectly. "And yes, Kathlyn made all sorts of disturbed noises. That's why it took so long." She climbs to her feet, staying steady only by a major dint of effort.
Tara can't suppress a grin. "Remind me to thank Lieutenant Mayes at some point." She decides to pass over the monetary issue, her smile fading slightly as she watches you. "Are you going to be able to get home alright?"
Clara nods somewhat distractedly, focused on her balance for a moment. "Mm-hmm. I only live one flight up, and Riley should already have the bed pulled down," she notes, too tired to censor herself. "I'll walk you out, though," she offers with a sleepy smile. "The faster I get home, the better."
Tara nods, moving toward the door. "Oh, by the way," she notes as she opens it, "Your... Kramer?... is everything you could ask for in somebody greeting folks walking in."
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:
Tara, standing by the door.
Obvious Exits:
Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge
Clara walks here from the Chief Aleron's Office.
Clara has arrived.
"That's why I keep him around," Clara replies, rather amused and managing not to weave too terribly. That, and she's ignoring the patent 'go home' looks Jones is giving her. "Again, holler if we can help at all, Valentine. I'll bid you goodnight."
Tara nods, continuing on out to the hall. "I will, thank you." In the most direst of circumstances. "Y'all have a good night too, ma'am."
You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
