Children make it a habit to break as many rules as they can, it's a way to test the limits of the boundaries placed upon them and to flex their burgeoning independence. Also, they just love sweets. At least, Jo did.
[Though her daughter never stole food before their meal, not in Lenore's experience. Then again, the divorce happened when Jo wasn't yet two, so she was still learning to walk and talk the last time she really spent any time with her.
Thinking about how much of her child's life she's missing is depressing as hell, so Len switches her attention back to her food. Spock's oh-so logical observation has her fighting against the urge to flip him off. Either he wouldn't understand what she was doing and she'd have to explain yet another strange Earthling behavior, or he would understand and she'd round off an already terrible day by being written up for insubordination. Instead, she just points her fork at him and narrows her eyes.] You don't get to make comments about my dietary choices, as you are neither my mother, nor my husband. I just spent seven and a half goddamn hours painstakingly sewing shredded blood vessels and nerve endings back together on one of Scotty's hapless ducklings, I think I've earned the right to eat whatever the hell I want. [She punctuates that statement by popping a piece of cornbread in her mouth, licking the crumbs off her fingers and trying not to focus on the fact that the texture was all wrong. It tasted close enough, at least.
She's not really angry, though, too tired to feel anything more than a mild annoyance which is pretty par for the course when it comes to interacting with the Vulcan. Watching him devour his chocolate has her smiling a little, though, and she even goes so far as to push the bowl closer towards him.] We aren't the only ones, it seems.
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[Though her daughter never stole food before their meal, not in Lenore's experience. Then again, the divorce happened when Jo wasn't yet two, so she was still learning to walk and talk the last time she really spent any time with her.
Thinking about how much of her child's life she's missing is depressing as hell, so Len switches her attention back to her food. Spock's oh-so logical observation has her fighting against the urge to flip him off. Either he wouldn't understand what she was doing and she'd have to explain yet another strange Earthling behavior, or he would understand and she'd round off an already terrible day by being written up for insubordination. Instead, she just points her fork at him and narrows her eyes.] You don't get to make comments about my dietary choices, as you are neither my mother, nor my husband. I just spent seven and a half goddamn hours painstakingly sewing shredded blood vessels and nerve endings back together on one of Scotty's hapless ducklings, I think I've earned the right to eat whatever the hell I want. [She punctuates that statement by popping a piece of cornbread in her mouth, licking the crumbs off her fingers and trying not to focus on the fact that the texture was all wrong. It tasted close enough, at least.
She's not really angry, though, too tired to feel anything more than a mild annoyance which is pretty par for the course when it comes to interacting with the Vulcan. Watching him devour his chocolate has her smiling a little, though, and she even goes so far as to push the bowl closer towards him.] We aren't the only ones, it seems.