Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to everyone who reviewed.

After Soval paid for our meal (Aiden's eyebrows had skyrocketed when he looked at the tip, which made me very happy; he thanked the ambassador profusely for coming), we left in easy silence. I didn't feel like breaking the silence between us until we were a few blocks away from the restaurant.

"It was very generous of you to leave that tip for him," I said finally, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket.

Soval blinked. "It is my habit now. I do not go out to eat often, but when I do, I make sure to leave a sizable tip. It is good for relations between your people and mine. Did you not see how attentive he was all throughout our meal? He was almost Vulcan in his dedication to our comfort, and I compensated him fittingly for that."

"And I'm very glad you did," I replied. "Wait staff aren't paid as much because of tips."

"I am aware of that."

"It's better than it was, thanks to the Worker's Strikes of 2016...and after the war, everything was reinstated or reformed by 2083...even still, they aren't guaranteed as much as other jobs because of the tip system. I still think it's a bit screwy, but what can you do?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You could protest and start another movement."

I smiled to myself, and we walked on with contented ease, wordlessly enjoying the crisp autumn night. I could not see the stars through the haze of San Francisco's countless lights, but a cool wind was blowing and fallen leaves rattled as they scuttled across the sidewalk. I wasn't in any hurry to get back to the Consulate, and I didn't have a particular route in mind. Soval was directing our steps, and I followed without question; I trusted he knew his way around, what with his decade of experience.

He eventually led me to a quiet park down by the Bay, which was surprisingly only occupied with three small groups huddled around the firepits. Most parks stayed open several hours after sundown, but I supposed a fire would be a requirement for staying after dark. It was colder now than when we left the Consulate, but even so, the ambassador skirted around the fires, staying on the concrete path that circled the park. The rush and sigh of the waves, and soft laughter and talk from the people gathered around the fires filled the comfortable silence, until he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I told you my staff discusses...information on a regular basis," he said carefully. "They also talk about you. Never around me, but Timok has overheard several conversations about our 'esteemed guest'."

"Wow, it sounds like they're bitter," I murmured with a frown. "What do they say about me?"

He was silent for several seconds before he replied, still careful with his words. "They wonder if you would not be happier with a different roommate."

I was silent for several seconds, pondering this new information. His staff wondered if I would be happier with someone else as my roommate? I guess it was a legitimate question if they assumed I was displeased with his company (or if they had somehow been privy to our arguments), but still, I didn't see why they were wondering about this. Since when did my happiness really concern them?

"That's immaterial at this point," I finally muttered. "Even if I wanted to move in with someone else, the government specifically stated I was to reside with you. And you know, it'd be too much of a hassle to pack all my stuff. I've moved plenty of times in my life, back and forth from college and then to my own place, and I don't want to move again unless I have to."

He was quiet, staring blankly at the path in front of him. I was sure he would respond to that, and it baffled me that he remained silent. Did he truly find my company that appealing?

"Besides," I continued, clapping his shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze, "you've grown on me. I'd miss the arguments and the games of kal-toh, and your cooking."

Still, he was silent, and I frowned at him, tilting my head. He usually responded to light teasing and hardly ever left me hanging. Then he sighed and replied, his voice low, almost sad, like Tos when he talked of M'Rel...

"You say you would miss the arguments and the kal-toh and my cooking...but would you miss me?"

"Oh yes," I said without hesitation. "I'd miss you most of all."

That finally got a reaction out of him. He straightened his posture (I wasn't aware he had even been slouching) and puffed out his chest, and I swore I could see his eyes brighten.

"Your company would be sorely missed as well, Genevieve."

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and squeezed him again, giving him hearty pats on the back as I withdrew my hand. I didn't want to freak him out. "Aw, see, you're not such a grumpy coot after all!"

His nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He looked affronted, though as I let an ear-splitting grin spread across my face, his gaze softened to a mischievous sort of wariness.

"I am not grumpy," he replied. "That would imply emotion on my part."

"Yes, you are grumpy, and no, that state is not necessarily an emotion. Think of it as...displeasure. Vulcans experience that a lot when working on Earth, I'm sure."

He sighed in exasperation. "Yes, we do experience displeasure at times. But I still maintain that I am not grumpy."

"And I maintain that you are," I countered with a sly grin. "But you're all right most of the time." I dared to wink at him, then hastily looked away, my face flushing like an idiot.

"At least I have reached the point where you tolerate my presence."

It was my turn to frown. "Hey," I said, my voice sharper in protest. "I like spending time with you. I may not show it all the time, but I think you're very interesting. My life would be a lot more dull if I hadn't met you."

This time there was no mistaking it; he brightened, blinking rapidly as he processed my bold statement. "Truly?" he wondered aloud, and I patted his back again, against my better judgment.

"Truly." I offered him a soft smile. "Oh, and before I forget, thank you very much for dinner."

He shook his head. "It is my place to take care of you, and provide for you. Your thanks is unnecessary...but you are most welcome."

We walked on in silence, and I followed his lead as we took a deserted path away from the fires and loud chatter. One wouldn't think that many people would be out on a Wednesday, but maybe they, like me, were college students who didn't have class tomorrow. Or maybe they did and they simply didn't care. Their conversations faded into the background as we walked down the dimly lit path, and the only sound was the crunch of the leaves beneath our feet.

I drew closer to Soval when I couldn't hear the revelry behind us anymore, and he glanced at me with a frown.

"Is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "Force of habit, I suppose. You never know who or what might be hiding down there. I hate to admit it, but if you weren't here, I wouldn't dare go down this way."

He almost looked angry, flaring his nostrils and sticking out his chin in a defiant, proud pose. I frowned, reviewing what I had said, though I couldn't find anything wrong with it, per say.

"While you are with me," he murmured, "you need not fear attack from anything. I told you I would take care of you, and protect you."

And then he gently placed his hand on the small of my back, perhaps to reassure me, but the sudden warmth of his hand, even through my top layers of clothing, made a shock of pleasure zip down my spine. I slowed my pace and carefully leaned into his touch, daring to glance up at him beneath my lashes. His gaze was fixed on me, his eyes laden with an unreadable expression. He removed his hand from my back (I felt bereft without the warmth) and carefully reached for a stray lock of hair that had escaped my braid.

He froze, withdrawing his hand, and for a moment I was sorely disappointed. Surely he was just about to touch me and make the intimate moment more complete, but it appeared he was having second thoughts. I groaned inwardly from embarrassment.

Then I heard the clicking noise.

"Do you hear it?" he breathed. I nodded.

He turned abruptly to face our camera-wielding shadow, and I turned as well, stilling my face into a bored expression. The reporter grinned at me, a short, balding man bundled up in a baseball cap and an overlarge coat.

"Gotcha," the man said, snapping another photograph while we were turned towards him. I simply sighed.

We were in public place, so it wasn't as if we could tell this man off (unless Soval pulled out some intimidation technique or perhaps lied about the legality of the paparazzi following alien diplomats). I didn't know what moments the photographer had captured, so the flavor of the inevitable tabloid was still unknown to me. I wasn't sure if they had enough to spin this in a scandalous light (I doubted that), but I could envision a condescending, mocking article about the ambassador fumbling through his first relationship or something like that. Who knew at this point?

"See, ambassador, I told you," I whispered to my companion. "You never know what weirdos come crawling out of the bushes this time of night."

Soval raised an eyebrow and quietly asked the man to leave, and he snapped one last photo before sinking back into the darkness; his hasty retreat suggested he was too cowardly to pick a fight with the ambassador (unlikely, as that would be the perfect recipe for a scandal) or he had already captured prime material and was ready to be on his way. When his footsteps had faded into the twilight, the ambassador turned and silently led me on down the path.

There wasn't much to say about the incident, so we maintained our silence and continued our walk. The walkway eventually looped back to the main park, and by now most of the groups out partying were drunk and far too loud, so we left quickly to avoid the noise. Our walk back to the Consulate was uneventful, and by the last few blocks, we were too absorbed in our own thoughts to speak, but it wasn't awkward. I pushed the thought of the impending tabloid article out of my mind and focused instead on how I hadn't been on a date this nice in a long time, not since my senior year of college. I sighed as we finally reached our quarters in the Consulate, but still, I turned to the ambassador before he could go change and lightly touched his shoulder.

"Thank you so much for that," I said gently. "I had a really good time."

I smiled at him and patted his arm, then made a hasty retreat to my bedroom before I saw his reaction. When I came back out of my room, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, he immediately caught my eye and bowed his head.

"You left before I could reply," he protested, offering me a seat beside him. I took it. "I was going to say 'you're welcome', and that I also had an agreeable evening. It is pleasant to spend time with you."

I grinned to myself as I checked my messages, forgetting that I was supposed to be forgetting about this crush. If only for this evening, I decided to enjoy the giddy feelings swirling around in my chest, and I swore as I glanced at Soval under my lashes that he almost looked like he was smiling.

…

As expected, I awoke to a new tabloid exposé on our date last night, which I read to Soval over breakfast.

"'Is Ambassador Soval Looking for Love?' Two seconds in and I already hate this..." I pinched my nose bridge before even attempting to continue.

"That title is inaccurate, though I would not expect better from these gossip columns. I am not actively seeking emotion. That is antithetical to my very core of beliefs."

I smirked. "No, you don't understand. 'Looking for love' means actively seeking a romantic partner, as in 'Is Ambassador Soval Seeking a Wife?'"

"Ah," he murmured in understanding. "Forgive the interruption. Continue."

"'Following last month's social debut of Genevieve Forrest, Ambassador Soval was seen again with her in a Sausalito restaurant. The couple walked to a local park and took a romantic stroll by the Bay...'"

The article went into way too much detail than what was needed for a gossip column, but then, it was still a gossip column, so I'm not sure what I expected. This time, however, they had a picture to accompany the hackneyed writing.

To their credit, the picture was artfully framed and wonderfully backlit with the streetlamps. It captured the moment when Soval had reached for that stray lock of hair, and my cheeks were flushed with the cold (and maybe also the heat of the moment, but that was beside the point). I could feel a slight flush in my cheeks as I stared at the picture; the ambassador looked like he was glowing, and I could only imagine what the tabloid readers thought of this. The way he was backlit, I imagined a different story alongside the picture, one where we had never heard of Vulcans until last night and he had tried to abduct me. It was a silly thought, but he looked especially foreign in that photograph.

I passed the PADD to him so he could examine the picture, and I returned to my breakfast. After a few moments, he followed my lead and set the article aside, taking another bite of his plomeek broth.

"I do not understand your people's habit of drawing premature conclusions, especially where relationships are concerned," he groused, sipping his tea. I snorted.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" He shook his head.

"If there's one thing my people enjoy, it's a good love story. They want to believe that you and I have started a relationship so they can see how it all ends. And we're the perfect candidates for their imaginings anyway – you're Vulcan, I'm human. They want to see if this will work...and this is all hypothetical, obviously. It's not like we're in a romantic relationship."

I felt myself blush, and I hastily looked back down at my food before he read too much into my statement. Could he hear the disappointment in my voice? Could he tell that I, like the general public, wanted to see where a romantic relationship would take us, to see if it would work?

Soval cleared his throat and mumbled something under his breath. "What was that?" I asked.

"I said of course it was hypothetical," he replied, his tone stiff.

We were quiet for a minute or two, the silence between us awkward and cloying. Finally (to my relief), he spoke again.

"I also do not understand your people's enjoyment of others' misery. You publish others' shame and troubles as if it is popular entertainment."

"Oh, to some people, it is just that," I said quickly, eager to change the subject. "We may enjoy our love stories, but I think some like a scandal even better."

"Why?"

I sighed. "To make their own miserable lives seem less miserable and meaningless. I mean, you could have an idiot for a boyfriend and be flunking out of college, but hey, look at that celebrity. She cheated on her husband and he's calling for a divorce, and there's going to be a huge custody battle over their kids, and their life is in shambles. Your life doesn't seem so bad now, does it?"

He frowned, shaking his head ever so slightly as he stared at me with a bemused expression on his face. "That is..."

"Cruel? We're not exactly a planet of angels, ambassador."

"Your people are capable of rising above such cruelty. It pains me to think you derive pleasure from someone else's troubles."

"You think it doesn't pain me too?" I retorted. "I'll take the love story any day...so maybe the fact that the paparazzi thinks we're an item isn't so bad after all. It beats having them slander our names all across the 'net."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded his head. "It is not such a bad thing to be mistaken as your significant other. In fact, I find it flattering. They believe I have the charm and wit to draw such a beautiful woman to my side."

A hot, burning flush spread rapidly over my cheeks, and I bowed my head, unsure of what to say. "You have the charm," I muttered under my breath. He looked up at me with raised eyebrows, but I just shrugged and took another bite of my broth.

"Thank you, Genevieve."

I nearly choked on the steaming liquid, and I glared at him. Surely he hadn't heard me.

"I appreciate the compliment, though it seems my problem is applying that charm correctly." He was smirking. He had definitely heard me. "You see, some cases of diplomacy are more delicatethan others, and require more...persuasion."

Oh, damn it.

Was he flirting with me? There was no way a Vulcan ambassador would be making a pass at me. But then, what had he meant by 'requiring more persuasion'? Did he see me as just another negotiation? He didn't...I didn't think he meant it that way. He had called me beautiful on multiple occasions, and he seemed to enjoy teasing me. And last night, when he put his hand on my back...he wasn't afraid to touch me.

My heart pounded in my chest, and a nervous, silly smile spread across my face. "Surely a man of your experience can be very persuasive."

He leaned forward over the table, and I couldn't bring myself to break eye contact. "When the situation demands it, I can be."

Silence reigned between us again, this time thick with tension, and I still could not tear my eyes from his. We stared at each other, perhaps both filled with unspoken, forbidden questions neither dared to ask, and I wondered what would happen if I never broke his gaze. How long would it take him to become uncomfortable? Would he get uncomfortable? I had heard somewhere that a Vulcan's gaze could be relentless, but I wasn't going to let him intimidate me.

And yet, the thought came to my mind that if one stared into a stranger's eyes for long enough, their level of attraction towards that stranger would increase...

"Your plomeek is getting cold," he said suddenly, breaking the moment. I immediately lowered my eyes to my breakfast and took another bite of the now-lukewarm broth.

"So we'll just see how this article blows over and go from there, I guess?"

He raised an eyebrow. "That is the logical course of action, because it is all we can do for now."

I silently accepted his answer with a nod and finished my soup, my head still buzzing with questions.

…

When I returned from morning classes on Friday, I found Timok and Soval talking over tea. I put my things in my room and took a seat at the head of the table between them, and only then did I notice the two envelopes beside the teapot.

I picked one up and examined it, and it was addressed to Soval. The other was for Timok. The return address was from Hester's college, and once I realized this, I looked to the ambassador expectantly.

"Those arrived early this morning. I had the thought that we would wait for you to return before reading them. They are obviously from your cousin."

"Go ahead," I said, and Soval opened his letter and read it aloud to me and his elder aide.

"'To Ambassador Soval,

Thank you very much for letting me visit the Consulate and see the garden. It was beautiful, and I have a notebook full of drawings and notes that I can use in future essays and assignments. I really appreciate your patience with me, and I hope I didn't cause too much trouble.

Sincerely,

Hester Forrest.'"

He looked up at me, silent for a moment. "I admit," he finally murmured, "I was not expecting a thank-you note. It was a kind gesture."

I smiled. "That's Hester for you. What does yours say, Timok?"

"She thanks me for showing her around the garden, and for being a good host to her. She says she would like to visit the gardens again someday, but understands that will most likely be impossible."

I looked under my lashes at Soval, who was busying himself making a fresh cup of tea.

"Would you like some, Genevieve?" the ambassador asked, and I said I would take a cup.

"She reminds me of my granddaughter," Timok continued quietly, and I smiled at him.

"How old is your granddaughter?"

The elder Vulcan sighed. "She is older than your cousin, and you. I believe she turned 30 last year...I do miss her..."

I gently patted his arm (which was covered in his robes) and took a sip of my tea. It was bitter and had a strange spice to it, but I swallowed it down anyway and took a larger sip. Some Vulcan blends of tea were an acquired taste, and I would have personally added a lot of sugar to this one.

Soval and Timok, thankfully, were oblivious to my predicament, as they were looking at Hester's thank-you letters with glazed expressions, apparently lost in their own thoughts.

"I will have to thank her for this kind gesture, if I see her again," the ambassador said softly, setting his letter aside.

"You will," I assured him. "You're coming to our Thanksgiving dinner, right?"

"I have not been invited."

I stared blankly at him for a while, then reached for my PADD and sent a message my father. I knew he was at work and probably wouldn't see this until lunchtime, but as long as I got an answer before Thanksgiving (hopefully a yes), that didn't matter.

"There, I just added you to the invite list," I said, and I caught Timok's eye as I put my PADD away. He looked as if he was smirking at me, and I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes.

I drained the rest of the tea, and when Soval offered me another cup, my mouth said yes before my body could refuse. He poured me more, looking pleased with himself, and I repressed a sigh as I took another sip of the bitter brew. There were worse things in the world, I told myself, and today, I just couldn't say no to that Vulcan's bright brown gaze.

A/N: For those of you who don't know what to say: what did you like about this chapter? What was something you didn't like? Do you agree with Genie's opinions? Where do you think their relationship will go from here?