"Doctor..." Spock was not sure how to go about this, honestly. Well, technically, he did. But it was Leonard Mccoy. He wasn't sure which would be worse; this, an awkward kiss to Pavel, or being slapped by Nyota. The slap was looking good right about now. He waits for McCoy to turn around before leaning forward to capture the doctor's lips with his own. As was everything Spock did it was slow and calculated; thought out. And then, just like that, he was pulling back with a frown on his face.
[Bones is reasonably certain that his heart stops, or debilitating brain damage occurs, or something of the sort—pigs start flying, the dead start wal—scratch that last and he’s being too dramatic.
He thinks his left eye might be twitching, and his eyebrow is certainly raised, and yes, he probably looks like somebody just hit him in the face. Given the situation, he wouldn’t say that that look’s inappropriate.]
--I think you’re supposed to buy me a drink first, Mr. Spock.
[He’s not sure he’s ever sounded more abjectly sarcastic.]