"You dislike counseling."
I purse my lips and the phrase no shit, Sherlock wafts through my mind.
"I fix broken things. It's what I do." I swallow a slug of the awful replicated coffee and wonder if a dollop of formaldehyde might not improve it. "A broken leg or gouge, or Jim Kirk's allergy du jour. I'm less interested in wasting my time listening to some bored fool's sniveling self-indulgent monologue."
I realize Spock's staring at me even more expressionlessly than normal.
"You're hardly self-indulgent, Spock."
"My father would not agree."
"Sarek⦠must be one tough act to follow."
"Indeed."
