Risa. The temperature: perfect; the pollen count: non-existent; the UV index: not discovered yet. Quantum's Fortress of Solitude looks out at an aquamarine bay with sugar beaches. Some picturesque rocky grottos and soothing waterfalls manage to work their way in there too. Quantum slides a door open and walks into his villa. There's a Risan fertility goddess nailed -- yes, nailed -- to the wall. Quantum pushes a dot on the fertility goddess's head, and the door slides closed behind him. Quantum looks around at the Pottery Barn-decorated place and notes something on the glass table. He picks up a card, which reads, in wedding-invitation-style calligraphy, "To help you relax, T'Pol." Opening the box, Quantum finds a large and luridly red copy of The Teachings of Surak. "Is that like the Vulcan Leaves of Grass?" Mathra sniggers. You know, there's been a lot of sniggering going on in this episode, and I think it really needs to stop. Quantum walks out onto his deck and regards the view. He hears an annoying un-Porthos-like yipping and looks around. He sees some small fuzz-ball of a dog getting beside herself on a deck below his, and a lady -- in a swimsuit and a diaphanous thing around her waist that came straight from the SuperStar Barbie ensemble -- comes out and removes the Yip Factor. She asks what the thing is yipping at and sees Quantum, who sort of nods at her. She sort of doesn't nod back, and sashays back into her villa.
Risa's answer to Señor Frogs is getting techno with the music as various provocatively-dressed creatures prance around. Trip -- wearing a Shaft knock-off white suit with a blue shirt -- sucks in his cheeks and bobs his head white-boy-like to the music. Next to him, Reed is tricked out in what every desperate-for-alien-sex human on Risa is wearing this season -- a slate-blue silk shantung ensemble with a Nehru collar -- and is acting all "pretty little thing, let me light your candle, 'cuz mama I'm so hard to handle now." I'm not convinced that men should wear silk shantung, ever. Trip nudges Reed mid-gape and points at something. "What about that one?" Trip asks, sticking his tongue against his cheek and nodding. Reed, intent on killing all adoration I ever had for him, gasps and says out of the corner of his mouth, "Now I know you've been cooped up on a starship for too long!" They both do way too much nudging and tongue-rolling for my stomach. I think a nice long sip of Rapscallion Premier should settle it down just fine. Trip wants to know what's wrong with the piece of meat he picked out, and Reed tells him he "wouldn't know which eyes to look into." They titter suggestively. Reed gets Trip's attention and says, "Now, she's interesting." Trip takes a long, hard look and says, "I don't think 'she' is the right pronoun." Reed looks askance. "But if you think it's worth the risk," Trip says, wiggling his fingers at whomever they are talking about. He raises his eyebrows and point-points at Reed. Reed whines, "I don't know, maybe I should've brought my scanner with me." A scantily-clad waitress brings them orange drinks with lots of pieces of fruit sticking out of them. "Ooo, thank you," Reed leches after her, as Trip obviously ogles her butt. "Now, that's a she," Trip says. Reed agrees, his tongue thrust against his cheek again. What is up with that? Reed asks what they should drink to. "To us, and to a well-earned two days and two nights," Trip toasts. They clink.