Don't you "madam" me, okay. [She's not annoyed, though, she's almost laughing. Yes, she's annoyed that Spock keeps her out of the loop, but it's so Spock, she almost expects it from him. The fact that he's playing directly into the role she's mentally written for him just makes her feel satisfied. She shakes her head at him, sighing.] Well, don't come crying to me when you manage to wind up with boils in some very inconvenient places because you reacted badly to something on some off-world mission, alright? I can't help you when I don't know what's wrong with you.

[She's still laughing when he tries to tell her that he was insulting her, which just makes her laugh even more. The synthehol has left her feeling far giddier than usual at this time of night, but Spock is acting looser than he normally does, so she doesn't feel too badly for being a little silly.] Oh, I know. I just choose to take it as one, so thank you.

[His hair is always so neat and tidy, like a wig, or a helmet. It's just another part of his fastidious nature that she's always come to depend on, like the fact that his boots are almost mirrored they're so polished, and that his reports are written with such exact grammar that they might as well be examples in a college textbook. When he bows his head in acknowledgement of her backwards compliment, she can see that his hair is mussed, just a little, just a few pieces lying out of order.

It's startling, and distracting.]

Well, it's a good thing we have you around then, isn't it, Mr. Spock?