Communication to All
Your oh so lovely Captain has reserved an entire bar for our use for our final night on Risa! You can get the position of it from the attached file. Nice little place, tucked up on the beach and right up against the waterline, full bar with everything you can imagine! I'll be seeing you all around sunset!
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[BRIEF OOC] )
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Their talk from the other night slid through his head, that first time they had finally just talked like friends, or something like friends at least.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked slowly along, wondering if there was an easier way.
He was about ten seconds from having the ship beam his ass to Spock when he spotted the Vulcan. Spock was sitting up by the railing in what might have been a night club, looking slowly over into the distance. Kirk tilted his head, then smiled just slightly.
He turned off and into the nightclub, getting two different drinks before heading up to the second floor.
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"Jim." He greeted him with a simple nod, before looking back out towards the beach.
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"You'll like the drink, I promise."
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Spock continued to eye it for a few more moments, before he extracted the spoon off the side, and began to take small scoops out of the whip cream and chocolate syrup. Already eaten some chocolate tonight, and yet...well, it was Jim. If that meant anything.
"This is unnecessary," He informed him, but he continued to skim off the whip cream nonetheless. "If I wanted to attend the gathering myself, I would have."
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Which was very true. He hated the idea of Spock being out here, alone, even if he wanted to be. If Spock didn't want him around, he'd stay long enough to finish his drink and go, but... well.
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"Keeping apart from your singing, drinking, and general revelry does not necessarily mean I am 'alone.'"
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Spock spooned another bit of the shake--it wasn't really anything else, with this viscosity--into his mouth. "Are they enjoying themselves?" A small gesture down towards the bar, the crew, assembled across the beach.
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He took a long gulp of his drink, needing the burn of it all the way down to his stomach.
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He took another spoonful. "You officially enlisted him, then." It was not a question. It was bound to happen, as with any and all people they couldn't return on their ship, except...another stop to that train of thought, too.
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"My plan is for him, and George, to take the same technology classes... you know those ones from the academy for out-worlders and stuff? And I'll get a bunch of the basic stuff and have Harold go through them so he can pick a real track for himself."
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Then, after a moment and another spoonful, "...Jim. Are you certain this is a drink, and not a dessert?" What he really wanted to ask was why Jim wanted to intoxicate him, but he wasn't so sure that wouldn't spiral off into innuendos and sexual passes and, most of all, bringing up his forced voyeurism.
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He leaned back in the seat he had taken up. "I don't know about Vulcans, but humans definitely have a long history of hanging out with their friends over drinks." He tried to keep it light, but he was curious how Spock would react to that statement. Friends.
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"Such as now. Though this is quite...delicious."
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