[Kirk's sitting up against the headboard, the remnants of his dinner on the nighstand next to him: a crinkly plastic wrapper that once held a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a plastic cup that used to have fruit (only a wrinkly gross grape sits at the bottom now), and an empty glass with the film of milk washed over its inside. A few books are spread out around him as he makes notes on the datapad propped against his knee. At the sight of Spock entering the room, he tugs out his earbuds. AC/DC's tinny screams can be heard. Just how loud did Kirk think those two were going to be?!]
How'd it go?
[He glances at the clock to check the time. It's been a while, but it's not absurdly late.]
[Much as he's tempted to ask Spock about the hair (how did he change the length and style that quickly?), he's already got a strong suspicion that the city is in the throes of yet another "Event" given how many others seem to be exhibiting strange behavior. He just needs to know if he should intervene or not. So far, it seems harmless.]
no subject
How'd it go?
[He glances at the clock to check the time. It's been a while, but it's not absurdly late.]
[Much as he's tempted to ask Spock about the hair (how did he change the length and style that quickly?), he's already got a strong suspicion that the city is in the throes of yet another "Event" given how many others seem to be exhibiting strange behavior. He just needs to know if he should intervene or not. So far, it seems harmless.]