Spock tries not to look around. He has only been here once before, and it still strikes him how bare the room seems. It is like his own, devoid of personal belonging. It doesn't seem particularly usually for a human.
"Captain," Spock greets, just as formal as he's always been, "It is 1800. I have arrived for our dinner arrangement."
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ninetydegrees
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"Captain," Spock greets, just as formal as he's always been, "It is 1800. I have arrived for our dinner arrangement."