The sentiment La'an grants him is similar, reciprocal, and Spock takes her meaning as it is intended. He doesn't agree aloud, but inclines his head just slightly as he lets silence settle following the end of her admission. Friendship does not come easily to either of them and Spock is momentarily wary to shatter this moment. His wariness passes, however, as he has to snuff out the urge to yawn.
"Please," Spock says and palms the controls on the wall. The door to his quarters opens promptly and the low, reserve lighting kicks on within. Door open, he gestures for La'an to enter. "After you."
His quarters are surprisingly well decorated. Considering his usual lack of ornamentation or affect, the hanging landscape images, sculpture, and tapestry seem almost jarringly gauche. He clearly prefers the color orange and coppery gold fabric with geometric embroidery. It is a deeply Vulcan aesthetic and, fortunately, lends itself well to halflight.
Beyond the decorations, Spock's room is the mirror of any other Lieutenant's. It is the same template and orientation as her own, though Spock had no way of knowing that. Once La'an enters, he follows after, stepping through and closing the door in his wake. It seals and locks by default, as is Spock's preference. He doubts she would prefer otherwise.
Now that he is within the confines of his own quarters, Spock finds the challenge of maintaining his posture and composure insurmountable. He slouches just slightly as the formality bleeds out of him, his movements made easy and loose by the combination of alcohol and privacy. He considers the wardrobe by the facilities and decides, all at once, that changing out of his uniform requires far too much effort.
"Do you require any accomodations?" Spock asks as he moves and drops down on the end of his bed, sitting as he removes his boots. He will, of course, rise and acquire anything she requests, he is not an inept host, but he takes the moment to savor the comfort of his mattress.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Please," Spock says and palms the controls on the wall. The door to his quarters opens promptly and the low, reserve lighting kicks on within. Door open, he gestures for La'an to enter. "After you."
His quarters are surprisingly well decorated. Considering his usual lack of ornamentation or affect, the hanging landscape images, sculpture, and tapestry seem almost jarringly gauche. He clearly prefers the color orange and coppery gold fabric with geometric embroidery. It is a deeply Vulcan aesthetic and, fortunately, lends itself well to halflight.
Beyond the decorations, Spock's room is the mirror of any other Lieutenant's. It is the same template and orientation as her own, though Spock had no way of knowing that. Once La'an enters, he follows after, stepping through and closing the door in his wake. It seals and locks by default, as is Spock's preference. He doubts she would prefer otherwise.
Now that he is within the confines of his own quarters, Spock finds the challenge of maintaining his posture and composure insurmountable. He slouches just slightly as the formality bleeds out of him, his movements made easy and loose by the combination of alcohol and privacy. He considers the wardrobe by the facilities and decides, all at once, that changing out of his uniform requires far too much effort.
"Do you require any accomodations?" Spock asks as he moves and drops down on the end of his bed, sitting as he removes his boots. He will, of course, rise and acquire anything she requests, he is not an inept host, but he takes the moment to savor the comfort of his mattress.