If Spock were not Vulcan, he would sigh long-sufferingly. Alas. "I am aware of your inarguably correct stance on the matter," he allows, though there remains an edge of smugness that is rarely allowed through the filter.
"I will remember that should I ever desire any." He doubts it, but the thought is appreciated.
All the same, the focus of the evening is to simply enjoy one another's company, and Spock intends to. He is at least careful to drink the milkshake slowly as they sit, taking his time. He is well aware that fats delay the absorption of sugar and that it will affect the length of both onset and duration, but once it does start to kick in, he has had enough that it seems perhaps he should have taken it even more slowly.
He remains attentive and alert for much of the conversation. Chatter about dress uniforms, at which point Spock notes some options would allow them to either perfectly match or perfectly complement one another. Something to think about as they decide. The course itself, conversations with Gaila, the competition later in the term, the fact that Spock requires gloves to be able to take the class at all in any measure of comfort, so on.
This is about the point where Spock realizes his cup is well over half-empty. He also notes that he has been leaning against Jim's side for the past thirty-five minutes and has had his head tucked into his shoulder the last ten. He has not attempted to move his head recently, perhaps for good reason, since he has to blink a couple of times when he lifts it to clear his perception.
"I should stop as I have had more than enough," he says distractedly, without explanation of what 'more than enough' means, setting the cup aside with a slightly uncharacteristic lack of care. Nothing spills or makes a mess, he just sets the disposable cup down with a click and proceeds to ignore the fact that he has not yet taken the time to properly dispose of it. "Thank you for bringing it to me," is a quick addition as he sits up better, glancing between them so he can drop his hand down atop Jim's, threading their fingers slowly and carefully.
"I do not wish to watch others dance with you," he finally says as he strokes his thumb along the side of Jim's hand, apropos of nothing as though he has kept it on his mind this entire time, "even though I know there is no reason for it."
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"I will remember that should I ever desire any." He doubts it, but the thought is appreciated.
All the same, the focus of the evening is to simply enjoy one another's company, and Spock intends to. He is at least careful to drink the milkshake slowly as they sit, taking his time. He is well aware that fats delay the absorption of sugar and that it will affect the length of both onset and duration, but once it does start to kick in, he has had enough that it seems perhaps he should have taken it even more slowly.
He remains attentive and alert for much of the conversation. Chatter about dress uniforms, at which point Spock notes some options would allow them to either perfectly match or perfectly complement one another. Something to think about as they decide. The course itself, conversations with Gaila, the competition later in the term, the fact that Spock requires gloves to be able to take the class at all in any measure of comfort, so on.
This is about the point where Spock realizes his cup is well over half-empty. He also notes that he has been leaning against Jim's side for the past thirty-five minutes and has had his head tucked into his shoulder the last ten. He has not attempted to move his head recently, perhaps for good reason, since he has to blink a couple of times when he lifts it to clear his perception.
"I should stop as I have had more than enough," he says distractedly, without explanation of what 'more than enough' means, setting the cup aside with a slightly uncharacteristic lack of care. Nothing spills or makes a mess, he just sets the disposable cup down with a click and proceeds to ignore the fact that he has not yet taken the time to properly dispose of it. "Thank you for bringing it to me," is a quick addition as he sits up better, glancing between them so he can drop his hand down atop Jim's, threading their fingers slowly and carefully.
"I do not wish to watch others dance with you," he finally says as he strokes his thumb along the side of Jim's hand, apropos of nothing as though he has kept it on his mind this entire time, "even though I know there is no reason for it."