Jan 28, 2010 04:57
Scott wasn't really what one would call the sporty type, at least not currently. In the past, maybe. He could have called himself a hockey player at one point - in grade two (it totally counted). And he had been a jock in high school, hadn't he (he had at least played a lot of Track & Field for the NES, anyway)? Regardless of what his athletic
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shinji,
sechs,
s.t.,
ronixis,
klavier,
scott pilgrim,
minato,
ritsu,
leonard,
teisel,
sora,
england,
jason,
indiana jones,
forte,
ashton,
asch,
luke fon fabre,
leon (so2),
lockon (neil),
zex,
claude,
keman,
guybrush,
hayes,
peter parker,
joshua,
pied piper,
tim drake,
kanone,
sho,
albedo,
guy,
heat,
kvothe,
venom,
lord recluse,
chekov,
peter petrelli,
nigredo,
tylor,
two-face,
the scarecrow,
ratchet,
okita,
rolo,
sasuke,
aidou,
touya,
battler,
mccoy,
spock,
zack,
setsuna,
haseo
Initially, Spock wondered if he was from Starfleet. Once he saw Mr. Hayes get up and extend his hand out to him in a customary Human handshake, however, he realized that likely wasn't the case. After all, most Starfleet personnel were well aware of the proper way to greet Vulcans, as well as the fact that they generally had something of an aversion to unnecessary physical contact. For a brief moment, Spock coolly looked at the man's hand before giving another nod of acknowledgment.
"Indeed, Mr. Hayes," he evenly replied. "Such circumstances are hardly conducive for introductions."
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When the explanation wasn't forthcoming, he sighed.
"Spock's a touch telepath," McCoy said as way of explanation, seeing as how the Vulcan wasn't going to even bother trying to excuse himself. Hayes didn't have that much (or any) experience with Vulcans. He didn't know why Spock thought it fair to expect him to make the adjustments that the crew of the Enterprise had made by now. At least give the man warning.
"Vulcans don't indulge in too much physical contact. Or manners."
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Not that it mattered, really. The point was that this was just a cultural issue, and even if it had been a while since Hayes had really dealt closely with aliens, he wasn't going to be thrown by something as simple as not liking to touch.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said instead, dropping his hand again. "It's hard to tell who's not human around here."
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He glanced toward McCoy during his subjective explanation. "What constitutes as manners, Doctor," he spoke, "often varies greatly from culture to culture." Although he had not accepted the handshake with his own hands, Spock did not believe he had done anything wrong, particularly since Hayes didn't appear offended.
"There is no reason for you to apologize, Mr. Hayes," he told him once he focused his attention back on the other man. "It is simply one of the many differences between Humans and Vulcans."
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Spock was right, of course. Despite all their arguments, there were some things the doctor tried to take note of and be respectful towards. He couldn't fully understand what it meant to be a touch telepath but he could begin to guess. Maybe the doctor liked pushing the Vulcan's buttons, but there were some things you just had to respect. This was one of them: McCoy had silently honored Spock's wish to keep physical contact to a minimum.
"Well, considering you're stuck with a shipful of us humans, I'd say majority rules," McCoy said contrarily anyway. He could feel himself relaxing, just a little. Bickering with Spock was safe ground. The discomfort at being so near Spock started to subside, but didn't completely vanish.
The doctor looked to Hayes. He went on. "There's no need to be coy, commander. Those ears stick out as badly as a pair of iron spikes in a wood picket fence," A smile tugged at his lips. "You could even say they give Mr. Spock a certain devilish charm."
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"They're actually not that unusual," Hayes pointed out. "For a while there was even a fashion for having that done with cosmetic surgery- supposedly it improved their hearing, personally I suspect they just thought it looked cool." He paused for a moment to consider how to put the next part. "I've just never heard of any species this similar before. Was some kind of exogenesis involved...?"
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When McCoy made that particular comment, Spock briefly glanced toward the sky in what could have possibly been construed as a tiny eye roll if someone was looking close enough. As it was, he was mostly considering the doctor's words for a brief moment. During his childhood on Vulcan, his peers did not hesitate to call attention to the eyes he'd inherited from his mother. Naturally, in a social environment among Humans, his Vulcan ears would become the object of scrutiny. It was not a situation Spock was not already used to, although he did not sense any malicious intent behind McCoy's words. Still, that did not stop him from giving his own rebuttal.
"If you are insinuating my ears are an eyesore, I assure you the current view is not particularly pleasing from my perspective, either."
It was rather strange to think that Hayes originally assumed his ears were the product of vanity, though Spock did not find some of the outward similarities of Vulcans and Humans to be particularly remarkable. "In my experience, Mr. Hayes," he spoke, "there is a wide variety of sentient lifeforms in the universe, both humanoid and non-humanoid."
He was about to add more, but did not find the opportunity. Instead, his gaze was drawn to where he'd located Chekov earlier, who seemed to be engaged in an unwanted encounter with a larger, older-looking patient. Spock's eyes faintly narrowed as he assessed the situation -- they were both on the ground, and it appeared Chekov was attempting to flee. A quick glance around the field told him Captain Kirk was nowhere to be found, which left him the responsibility of seeing to Chekov.
"Stay here," he suddenly instructed McCoy. "If your assistance is required, I shall call for you."
And with that he promptly began making his way over to the navigator.
((To here.))
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His mouth opened to deliver his own retort when Spock seemed to look away right in the middle of it. The doctor followed his gaze.
Chekov was in the middle of scrambling up off the ground with a man nearby who looked both large and none too friendly. Picking a fight with a prisoner? The Chekov he knew might be a little hot-headed at times, but he also knew (mostly) when to keep his head down. This Chekov had seemed the same, or so he thought. He wouldn't just pick a fight out of the blue.
Yet in some strange corner of McCoy's mind, it didn't sound nearly that irregular at all.
Spock was already issuing orders. His head snapped back to look at the Vulcan. "Wait, Spock-" What if the ensign needed medical attention?
It was too late. The Vulcan was already off, long limbs carrying him towards whatever Mr. Chekov had managed to land himself into it. McCoy restrained himself and remained where he was.
An order was an order. He didn't like it, and he didn't have to, but he had to follow it. He chewed the inside of his cheek then, still keeping an eye on what was going on across the field, glanced back at Hayes.
"I can't say anyone would want to look like a Vulcan, Mr. Hayes, but there's plenty of humanoids and non-humanoids where we come from," the Horta came to mind, a life form so utterly different from what they'd encountered that he'd had to see it to believe it. Hayes was essentially asking how the creation of the cosmos came about. "You're asking the ultimate question and I don't have the answer to it. I'm just a simple doctor."
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