The Butt of a Joke
Storvik swallowed his drink quickly, and followed Grace out of the bar. With his Vulcan hearing, he was able to discern all of the whispered comments and “snickers” from the other drinkers that her statement had caused. Then he noticed the way that she grinned at him, and could tell that she was also fully aware of the reaction she had caused - and amused at any discomfort it might be causing him. Unused to being a public spectacle and uncertain as to the behaviors involved, he placed his hand on her posterior as they walked out the doorway. From the whistles and other comments he heard, that seemed to be the correct action to reinforce the role.
“That was awfully forward for a Vulcan,” she snickered as they walked into a turbolift.
“It was simply a part of the ruse that-” he began, but she interrupted him.
“I notice that nobody can see us anymore, and that you haven't removed the hand yet, buddy,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him in a perfect imitation of his normal reactions. She then laughed as he yanked the hand back as if it were burnt. He decided not to try to explain that he was merely distracted by the uncharacteristic role she had forced him to play, and by the plans he was already making for when they got up to where the Obama was parked. She probably would not believe him; and if he didn't know that his next pon farr was two point four seven years away, he might also have doubted that explanation somewhat himself.