(countdown to/after darkness) comics.

[hischair]

If it's that sad, don't read it. It's Spock, he'll get back to his own reality sooner or later, you know he will, and never mind him flitting around through dimensions; what about my Commander getting tossed about from one near-death experience to another? Little sympathy there wouldn't go amiss. We beat Pon Farr at its worst — [ oh, that sounds weird, but anyway ] — I know we can keep him on the straight and narrow in the future if you forward my time-line in the City. I'll get Chekov to help me build a transporter and we'll hot-wire it for Old Vulcan's logarithms from memory. I don't know, something.

Hey, and that "Bridge on the captain" stuff? No. Stop that. That is not happening to me, no way.

Comments

[phonetical]

[Jim. You are her migraine. All of them. A bucket of migraines.]

Fine.

[hischair]

You wanna do the barbecue with me?

[ You love him. :) And splashing Spock together must happen. ]

[phonetical]

Somebody has to. I'm afraid of leaving you alone around an open flame and Dr. McCoy needs a break himself.

[She can get away with that, but there's no way she's stopping him if he Vulcan grips you, sir.]

[hischair]

[ He cannot Vulcan grip the person launching tidal waves in his face, this is fact. ]

What's the worst that could happen? Really.

[phonetical]

Permission to speak freely, sir.

[She's gonna say it. She's gonna say the thing.]

[hischair]

Denied.

[ Except she'll say it anyway!!! His life. ]

[phonetical]

[DAMN RIGHT SHE WILL.]

We're talking about you and fire. Everything could happen. Don't ask me questions when you don't want to hear the answer.

[hischair]

When have I ever been around fire in this capacity before?