The bathroom door closes, and I glance up from my keypad. Spock hesitates, thoughtfully studying his formal Vulcan robes draped carefully across the bed. He closes his eyes. I watch as his face shifts, softening as his shoulders relax-as if he's letting emotions just surface before being drained away as he slowly breathes out.
After a moment he squares his shoulders, his face glazing over with full Vulcan control: a transformation-but an honest, necessary one.
Now he is prepared; his human side tucked carefully away.
"I am ready."
I rise to help him don the complex, traditional garment.