'Potentially odd' is, perhaps, quite the understatement.
Sharing a living space with Leonard McCoy has made it abundantly clear to Spock that the man is likely the most needlessly emotional creature in his acquaintance. Even that, however, could not have prepared him to find McCoy in such an unfortunate position.
Politely, he clears his throat from some five paces away, and arches a cynical eyebrow.
McCoy glances over his shoulder and doesn't do much more than grunt. "Good, you're here," he says, and from his tone it actually might be that he's relieved to see Spock (maybe). "The damn cat keeps following me and you can take it back to the house."
"I fail to comprehend how the supervision of your animal is my responsibility," Spock replies with a purse of his lips. That he is somewhat relieved to find the cat trailing after its owner rather than himself he keeps staunchly to himself.
"Because it likes you more than it likes me," he grumbles in the midst of picking an exotic-looking flower that he couldn't name if his life depended on it (it's not like he ran the botany club on Enterprise). "And it listens to you," he adds, begrudgingly.
Rachel looked over the crouching man's shoulder, hoping she didn't startle him too badly. He looked very intent of grabbing something that she couldn't quite see.
"Not so much the losing of something as I'm trying to find something," he huffs out as he settles back on the heel of his feet, peering up at the girl and offering a brief smile. "Rachel, right? I met you the first day you got here," he recalls.
"Yeah, Rachel Grey." She smiled back, easier now that she was getting used to the whole movie, TV, comic book existence they all seemed to have off the island.
Granted, most days it made her feel like she was going crazy, but she did what she could.
He takes a deep breath and studies her because he knows who she is. He knows and he's not sure how to broach this topic. He's got a daughter at home and he doesn't want to make this more complicated, but he doesn't have to get into just who he's trying to woo. Not yet at least.
"Why Leonard, are you picking flowers?" Saffron said, coming up next to him with a broad and amused smile. It was definitely an entertaining sight, coming across the surly doctor with his face in a bunch of flowers. "So, who's the lucky girl?"
"Can't say until I give the flowers and find out if I'm lucky," he says with a slight scoff, shifting and standing with a slight groan, his knees creaking as he does. "I don't know if we're really...well, hell, I don't know if she's the lucky girl yet."
"I don't know what woman in her right mind wouldn't be at least a little pleased by a handsome man going to so much trouble to get her a nice pretty bunch of flowers," she informed him. "That should definitely score you some points."
"Well, if she only wants us to be friends, I could see myself in a bit of trouble," he points out, which is something he's trying not to think too much about as a possibility. Much as it's difficult at times, he needs to think positively.
She can't help it. There is just something absurd about this picture that it makes her want to laugh, though for his benefit she covers her mouth slightly. The result is something of a choked giggle, but it is better than openly laughing.
"This gives entirely new meaning to stopping and smelling the roses," she says after a deep breath, a smile wide across her face. "It's not bad and I'm not judging, but you have to imagine it from my perspective."
Which isn't to say that she's not enjoying the view. Just a little bit.
He straightens right up, ramrod spine, and stays that way with his back to her for a very long moment as he tries to compose himself (or just get his cheeks to stop being the color they are). "How long have you been standing there?" he asks, turning with a bunch of peonies in his hand, approaching her with them and clearing his throat.
"Not very long," she admits though not before toying around with the idea of letting him believe that she'd seen everything. Coupled with the contained laughter that might just be a little too mean. She does like him after all and this thing, whatever it is, is too new to jinx like that.
"I didn't see anything embarrassing, if that's what you're worried about."
McCoy clears his throat and he can't help his rueful smile, still pleased because he gets to look at her, gets to be around her. "Well, then, let's count it a win," he says, shifting the flowers so they're petals first as he presents them to her. "They're for you, incidentally."
Comments 59
Sharing a living space with Leonard McCoy has made it abundantly clear to Spock that the man is likely the most needlessly emotional creature in his acquaintance. Even that, however, could not have prepared him to find McCoy in such an unfortunate position.
Politely, he clears his throat from some five paces away, and arches a cynical eyebrow.
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Rachel looked over the crouching man's shoulder, hoping she didn't startle him too badly. He looked very intent of grabbing something that she couldn't quite see.
"Can I help?"
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Granted, most days it made her feel like she was going crazy, but she did what she could.
"What can I help you find, then, Dr. McCoy?"
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"Flowers. I'm looking for flowers."
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"This gives entirely new meaning to stopping and smelling the roses," she says after a deep breath, a smile wide across her face. "It's not bad and I'm not judging, but you have to imagine it from my perspective."
Which isn't to say that she's not enjoying the view. Just a little bit.
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"I didn't see anything embarrassing, if that's what you're worried about."
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