Undoubtedly, Spock would have raised an eyebrow at the attempt. On another day, he supposes that Jim would have received what he called "a kick out of it." It would have been neatly laughed away, tucked up against their usual way of banter — their perpetual give and take. Jim had once described the fashion in which he'd "pulled pigtails," but they had never commented further on the accidental revelation that had been tossed into the fray. Their connection was an easy one. They knew where the line lay, but privately, Spock had begun to wonder.
As always, he saves it "for another day."
"I am acceptable, thank you." His expression is still and silent, a neutral mask. There is little that gives way to anything within it, but Jim has always been able to find the remnants of emotion somewhere. No matter how Spock had attempted to disguise or evade, Jim had made any such efforts child's play. Once, it had deeply troubled him. Now? In these circumstances, it causes a sort of disquiet. For all that Jim remains Jim across any cosmic divide, there are things this Jim has not yet experienced. There are things, undoubtedly, that that Spock has never explained. If he is fortunate, he will be free of it for many years yet. But — "The fluctuations in ambient temperature likely contributed to an unusual degree of vasodilatation."
But, the shame still lingers. It flickers in the dark of his eyes, the way he folds his arms loosely across his bare chest. His skin feels at once numb and over-sensitized. A peculiar sensation, were he to examine it, but wholly unpleasant. He turns his head toward Jim, the blunt cut of his bangs ruffled from the earlier change of attire. He'd had no time to fix it, regrettably distracted by the environment as he was. "I am also gratified to see you, though more so to see you've made it through whole."
Tamping down on what emotional lapses linger, he focuses his attention on Jim's face. He can feel the vague curiosity that possesses Jim, knows Humans have a more difficult time restricting it, but he makes no comment. Instead, his eyes search him. Upon cursory examination, he appears wholly uninjured, but there is more to harm than physical expression. Jim appears already at odds with the environment, perspiring as he is, but that is the worst of what he gathers. At least, for the moment.
As Spock goes to further elucidate on his status and inquire after Jim's, the far wall illuminates. Upon it, there is the representation of two individuals (stick figures?) and a set of instructions(?): Ride or die! A minimalistic representation of a wave skims across the individuals, showing them bobbing along above the surface. As time goes on and a seeming current starts to kick in, one fails to keep adrift. A check mark appears next to the remaining, signifying a "win."
"Ji—" Spock starts, but that's about as far as he gets.
drat :(
As always, he saves it "for another day."
"I am acceptable, thank you." His expression is still and silent, a neutral mask. There is little that gives way to anything within it, but Jim has always been able to find the remnants of emotion somewhere. No matter how Spock had attempted to disguise or evade, Jim had made any such efforts child's play. Once, it had deeply troubled him. Now? In these circumstances, it causes a sort of disquiet. For all that Jim remains Jim across any cosmic divide, there are things this Jim has not yet experienced. There are things, undoubtedly, that that Spock has never explained. If he is fortunate, he will be free of it for many years yet. But — "The fluctuations in ambient temperature likely contributed to an unusual degree of vasodilatation."
But, the shame still lingers. It flickers in the dark of his eyes, the way he folds his arms loosely across his bare chest. His skin feels at once numb and over-sensitized. A peculiar sensation, were he to examine it, but wholly unpleasant. He turns his head toward Jim, the blunt cut of his bangs ruffled from the earlier change of attire. He'd had no time to fix it, regrettably distracted by the environment as he was. "I am also gratified to see you, though more so to see you've made it through whole."
Tamping down on what emotional lapses linger, he focuses his attention on Jim's face. He can feel the vague curiosity that possesses Jim, knows Humans have a more difficult time restricting it, but he makes no comment. Instead, his eyes search him. Upon cursory examination, he appears wholly uninjured, but there is more to harm than physical expression. Jim appears already at odds with the environment, perspiring as he is, but that is the worst of what he gathers. At least, for the moment.
As Spock goes to further elucidate on his status and inquire after Jim's, the far wall illuminates. Upon it, there is the representation of two individuals (stick figures?) and a set of instructions(?): Ride or die! A minimalistic representation of a wave skims across the individuals, showing them bobbing along above the surface. As time goes on and a seeming current starts to kick in, one fails to keep adrift. A check mark appears next to the remaining, signifying a "win."
"Ji—" Spock starts, but that's about as far as he gets.
Underfoot, the foundation rumbles.
And then, it splits.