Belch brought us wine from New Zealand, adorable juice glasses with kitties on them, and a huge sleeve of After Eights, which we just adore eating with port. Gytha had put together these goodie bags for all of us. Remember those goodie bags at birthday parties? I loved them. Gytha stuck in all kinds of funny candy along with a Data bookmark, an alien pencil topper, and mini-Slinkies, which are just so cool because every thing is better when it's mini. The Evil Dr. Mathra and I swapped his Andes mints for my Smarties (his favorite), and my banana Now 'n' Laters for his apple (my favorite). However, I did insist on holding onto my A&W Root Beer hard candy because I just can't give those up. Around about 2:30 in the morning, we discovered Superballs at the bottom of the bags. I LOVE Superballs, so for the next hour and a half, the Evil Dr. Mathra and I bounced our Superballs all over our apartment entry, trying to get six bounces between the floor and the ceiling. Are we thirty-one? I don't think so. At least, he is, but I'm not for another four days.
Quantum logs that they rescued the Denobulan pilot and that her injuries are minor. Trip and T'Pol on working on sensor enhancement in order to find the Bird of Prey. T'Pol gives Trip some directions and stares up at him. Trip doesn't look down. T'Pol CRACK WHORES her face like she's about to say something and then turns away. Oh, please don't talk about your personal life. T'Pol paces. You're going to talk about your personal life, aren't you? T'Pol asks how Trip's parents are. Wait, so he has parents? What about all that crap that, since his sister was dead, he had no one to visit? Does he hate his parents? "They're...fine," Trip says, a bit puzzled, "They moved to a new house in Mississippi. It's not like the old place in Panama City but it's pretty nice -- why do you ask?" T'Pol whines that Trip hasn't spoke of them or anything else recently. "There hasn't been a lot of time to catch up," Trip says, not looking at her. T'Pol walks around to stand next to him: "You also haven't joined us at the Captain's table since we left Earth." Maybe he hasn't been ordered to. "What are you trying to say?" Trip asks, looking at her briefly before turning away. "You've been avoiding me!" T'Pol CRACK WHORES. Trip says maybe he has, but it's awkward now that she's married and he needs time to adjust. "I'm still adjusting to it myself," T'Pol CRACK WHORES. Trip looks at her as her chest heaves with unsuppressed CRACK WHOREAGE. Trip admits, "This is gonna sound strange, but as tough as it was watching you go through with the ceremony, I was proud of you for what you did." T'Pol heaves some more. Whatcha gonna do, CRACK WHORE? You gonna cry? Trip says that it's all probably for the best. "What do you mean?!" T'Pol CRACK WHORES. Trip says they wouldn't have made an ideal couple: "A Vulcan and a human? Romeo and Juliet probably stood a better chance." That's like the easiest Shakespearean play to reference. Something beeps to interrupt them. After technobabbling a bit, Trip comms Quantum that he thinks they've found them. "You don't sound one hundred percent sure," Quantum retorts. Shut up, Quantum, you jackass. Quantum orders May-I-Got-It-Goin'-On to lay in a course.