This was not logical.

The thought occurred so suddenly and abruptly, that T'Pol wondered if it indeed was hers. She closed her eyes briefly in an effort to expel that disturbing notion.

She failed.

In the course of logic, the ubiquity of death was inevitably true. Whether it was by slow decay, or swift deterioration, that was something she had faced time and again. Colleagues and enemies melted into a dizzying blur of faces when considered, and it was to remain that way, a fact, no more. Mental capacity was to be kept at the optimum, no matter what the unfortunate occurrences.

His death was not logical.

Logic had no prevailing atmosphere in the time she had spent on I. This was disconcerting at the beginning, but she had accustomed herself to the frantic emotions. His was the most engaging.

When T'Pol stripped away the overabundance of emotions, she had found an intelligent, competent engineer. His company was enjoyable, when taken in moderation.

Evidently, as she thought of it, she had indulged herself.

The mission was logical.

He was not.