I turn to my monitor as he enters my office for our little weekly counseling session.
I swear I can feel his defensiveness. I off-handedly push a poured and ready glass of Saurian brandy toward him.
"Here. You've earned this. Those desk jockey's were a little rough on you today."
He frowns a bit; then his shoulder's fall. I don't miss the tremor in his hand as he finally reaches for the glass. I turn back to my monitor.
"It's one thing to evaluate your motives, Spock; another to beat yourself up for them."
"I have no regrets." He murmurs.