What the hell?" Christine Chapel set the small bouquet of roses on the table next to the door. "How did you get in here?"
"We must talk, Christine." Spock stalked toward her, his dark robe billowing softly in the warm afternoon breeze from the lanai.
"I'm sorry Chris," Uhura said , her claret colored gown making a soft, swishing sound as she scurried in behind the intruder. "I tried to stop him."
"It's okay, Ny. I've got it." Christine fixed him with an icy glare. "I don't recall sending you an invitation."
"You look lovely, Christine."
"It's the dress, and when did we get to be on a first name basis? I must have missed that memo."
"The dress is lovely as well."
"It's a wedding dress. That's your first clue."
"Yes, Saavik informed me of your impending nuptials."
"To which you were not invited. That's your second clue."
"Yet I am here."
"To give away the bride perhaps?" she asked with a bitter laugh. "You did that a long time ago, Spock."
"You love me."
"No longer relevant."
"Do you love him?"
"Not your concern."
"What if I love you?"
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
Uhura let out a raucous laugh and Christine, despite her best effort to keep a straight face, dissolved into laughter as well. Spock regarded the pair of women with a sharply raised eyebrow and a look of puzzled indignation. For a brief moment she considered explaining the reference, but she had more important things on her mind and was not feeling particularly disposed to "read him in" to the proceedings.
The opening strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D filtered in from the next room. Uhura retrieved the bouquet from the table and handed it to Christine.
"The wedding's starting, which is your third and final clue, Captain Spock. Sorry but no prize for you, thanks for playing. I can ring for Security to show you out if you'd like?"
She saw a flash of something in his eyes, anger, or perhaps disappointment? Or maybe it was just gas? All that inscrutable Vulcan crap, it was really kind of hard to tell. He turned away and strode out the door, the sharp cadence of his boots striking crisply onto the marble hallway, growing softer until she could no longer hear it.
"How do I look, Ny?" she asked, giving her lipstick a final touch-up.
"You're a beautiful bride, Chris."
"Well, let's get this show on the road." "