"Well, no argument here... This is probably the nicest prison we've been stuck in," he murmurs, taking another look around. Hell, how can he not? The familiarity lathered with plenty of the foreign sure makes his head spin. It adds its own sense of dread and disconcert, but it sure beats a cramped, barred cell--And hey, he's not actually confined to sit with Spock this time. That's certainly another added bonus to their captivity: Freedom of movement away from the pointy-eared hobgoblin.

"A few, but nothin' too enlightening. Everyone looks at me like they've seen a damn ghost--And that isn't too comforting, Mr. Spock." His hand slides across the table as if searching for a glass and then suddenly remembering he never got that far. He brings it back to rest by the lip of the table. "What about you? Please tell me you did better..."