(A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the second chapter; I hope you like it because this is hard. Spock was tricky to make him sound not normal, but also not like a madman. He may be high, but he's still Spock. Also, if the last couple of paragraphs sound a little slashy, that was not my intention. Really, I promise.)

Thankfully, they did not meet anyone else on their way to Sickbay. Most of the crew was at the potluck. This was good, because the whole experience had somewhat unnerved Kirk. He was used to his First Officer being calm and collected, not vacant-eyed and bumping into walls. The good thing however was that Spock seemed pretty cooperative. He followed them and kept quiet.

Unfortunately, this did not last for very long. "Jim?"

"Yes?"

"I can smell Chekov's potato soup."

"Hmm…," muttered the doctor. "Olfactory hallucinations… those are pretty uncommon in humans."

"There are more than three hundred documented varieties of potato soup."

"Oh really?" Kirk remarked. "Don't walk in there; that's a closet."

Spock turned away from the door and continued going in the right direction. Kirk breathed a sigh of relief when they came to a turbolift. At least he couldn't wander off in there. McCoy wasn't any help; he just kept muttering and taking notes.

"I have tasted four varieties of potato soup in my life. The best one I had was four years, two months and sixteen days ago."

"Uh huh."

"It had leeks in it."

"Uh huh."

"The potatoes did not melt."

"Uh hu- huh?"

"Potatoes cannot melt. It is a scientific fact. I know about science. I am a science officer."

"Yeah, I know. So… how do you like being a science officer?" Anything to get him off the subject of potatoes.

"However, these potatoes gave the illusion of melting."

Great. He always did have a one-track mind, Kirk reflected.

"They had been cooked to the point of being so soft that they dissolved when you inserted a fork."

"Uh huh."

"Potatoes cannot melt, but they can dissolve."

"No they can't." McCoy chimed in.

"Huh?" Kirk began to wonder when the turbolift would stop and they could get out. This created another worry. These things had been sticking pretty often. Engineering still hadn't figured out why they kept stopping unexpectedly, and last time it happened they hadn't been able to get it going again for two hours.

Two hours…

"Doctor, you are illogical."

"Illogical? You're the one just telling me that you can dissolve a potato."

"That is logical. That is the height of logic. You are the depth of logic. You are thirty-six and two-ninths below the sea level of logic."

"That's even less logical!" McCoy yelled. Then he stopped, realizing that he was yelling. "Dammit, I'm a doctor not a psychologist. Why am I standing here arguing semantics and logic with a Vulcan outta his skull on a cooking herb?"

"Because you haven't got a choice," observed Kirk. Shoot… this thing probably was stuck.

"Doctor, I am not out of my skull. My skull is inside my head. I am outside of my skull. Except," Spock paused. His forehead scrunched up in an attempt to think. "my skull is part of my body. And I am inside my body, I believe."

"You believe?"

"I believe many things. Belief: noun. An acceptance that a statement is true or that something exists."

"What did you do, memorize the dictionary? Well, let me tell you something…"

Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Scotty?"

There was a pause, then "Yeah?"

"I'm in a turbolift with two madmen and it's stuck."

There was a sigh. "I'll get right on it." The communicator beeped and was silent.

Meanwhile, the discussion going on behind him had escalated into a shouting match. Kirk had to admit, when this fiasco had been resolved, he would look back on this and laugh. He leaned against the wall and watched.

"A noun! A noun! A noun is not a mnemonic or an acronym! Those are totally different things!" McCoy was waving his arms over his head.

"Many acronyms have been accepted as nouns. Scuba and taser. Therefore, an acronym is just a special kind of mnemonic." Spock yelled, seemingly not upset, just trying to be louder than the doctor. His face was still impassive.

"Whaddaya mean, therefore? That was not a 'therefore' situation! And mnemonics are not acronyms!"

"Soh- Cah- Toa. Soh- Cah- Toa. Your logic cannot refute that."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? It makes no sense!"

"It is a mnemonic for trigonometry functions. It is an acronym for Sine is opposite side over the hypotenuse. Cosine is adjoining side over the hypotenuse. Tangent is-"

McCoy was really worked up now. "I! Don't! Care! I could literally not care less about trigonometry functions! I do not even know what a trigonometry function is! Would you be quiet!?"

"I would not be quiet. A trigonometry function is not a social function. Tangent is a trigonometry function. A potluck is a social function. I brought cake," continued the Vulcan at the top of his lungs.

You know, Kirk wondered, the way he's screaming at McCoy but his face is just calm, is that a Vulcan thing? Or is it just him? Or the whatchamacallit- oregano?

"Okay, get ahold of yourself." McCoy had his head in his hand, talking to himself. "It's no good arguing with him. He's not even gonna remember this. Is he gonna remember this. Arggh, I hope not."

He looked up at Spock again. "Quit screaming, willya? That could really get on someone's nerves."

Spock cocked his head quizzically. Fortunately, the next thing he said was in a normal tone of voice. Unfortunately, the next thing he said was "I cannot be on your nerves, because your nerves are inside of you. I can, however, be above your nerves if I was atop you in some way. Let me demonstrate…"

McCoy leapt with surprising alacrity behind Kirk. "You stay away from me, you hear?" Lowering his voice, he growled in Kirk's ear. "This had better be fixed soon, or someone's going to get hurt. And I'd just as soon it not be me."

Kirk gulped. "Understood."