McCoy was silent throughout dinner, sending glares in the direction of Spock whenever he could. Charvanek had quickly become involved with a small group of men and woman consisting somewhat of Klingons. They were eating meat while she, on the other hand, ate vegetables. The small crew were talking about their eulogies that had to be refined with time. Scotty handed McCoy a ring under the table. McCoy hid it into his pocket. Spock was the silent one at the table. He appreciated seeing the cats just a little more. Hearing the voices of people who had become like family to him. Though there was a empty chair that wasn't filled. It had to be filled or someone had to scoot over so someone else would take it. Uhura had implied to let Charvanek into the group, and Scotty agreed with her. There was silence from Spock until dinner was over.
"Spock," McCoy took the shoulder of the Vulcan. "We have to talk."
"About what?" Spock inquired.
"What you thought you almost gave me." McCoy said, with a familiar unpleased frown on his face.
Spock raised his slanted, yet arched eyerows.
"Leonard, I am not sure what you are referring to." Spock said.
"The hell you do. You thought I had the Vulcan mind meld flu or that Ny syndrome thin'!" McCoy's voice was more of a whisper as they headed down the hall. "You could have at least mentioned you were goin' to put me under a four hour trip ride for a 'I want to be sure' trip." McCoy almost froze. "My god, I am arguin' like my mother Eleanor!"
Spock lowered his eyebrows.
"You were concerning me." Spock said, softly as his hand rested onto the man's shoulder.
"Over a single brainfart." McCoy said, stopping Spock from touching him. "You are more of a computer then you came in here before I met you."
"Why thank you." Spock sounded pleased and looked pleased as a look of horror spread on the Georgian's face. "And it wasn't a mind meld flu, it was Pa'nar. A very dangerous neural disease that cripples the inflicted in a way much similar to one in the 21st century suffering from HIV. This is only a coincidence it resembles Ny Syndrome."
"Are you always happy to be compared to a damn computer?" McCoy asked, with a raised arched eyebrow.
Spock tilted his head giving some thought before answering.
"Yes, preferably." Spock said.
"Because computers are nothin' like Vulcans." McCoy said, then he left while Spock's gaze lingered on his ass as he vanished into the crowd.
"Spock, I need some help with my eulogy." Chekov said, coming to the Vulcan's side.
"How much of my service do you need?" Spock asked, looking over toward the Russian.
"All of it." Chekov said.
"Your eulogy, the way you described it, sounded suitable." Spock said. "Do not change it."
"'That was only the summary!" Chekov said.
"Oh," Spock said. "So you have not written it?"
"No," Chekov said. "I don't write eulogies, I mentally write them."
"You improvise." Spock said.
"Well," Chekov briefly paused. "Yes."
"Pavel," Spock said, as they walked down the hall. "Let's talk about the overall theme."