“To what do I owe this unexpected thrill?” McCoy asked, predictably, sarcastically. “You sick?”

“Negative.” Spock was already rethinking this. It was…at the very least, ill timed. And definitely ill-advised.

“Spock?”

“Nyota and I ended our relationship.”

“Again? What was it this time? You aren’t leaving again, are you?” McCoy downed the glass of whiskey he held. “Not that it matters to me or anything. But Jim.”

“Is drinking in the med bay a wise choice, doctor?”

McCoy rolled his eyes.

“I am not leaving. We decided to end our relationship mutually. We no longer find fullfillment.”

McCoy snorted. “Sounds like she said that.” He shook his head. “I have familiarity with divorces.”

“We were not married.”

“And that right there is probably why she broke up with you, Spock. You’ve been together for a while and never got to that point. Ever wonder why?”

Of course he did, but he was not prepared to speak with McCoy about that. And certainly not now.

“Thank you for your time, doctor.”

“Well, but why’d you come here? What did you want?”

“I had a headache and wondered if you had something that would not turn my stomach.”

“I’ve got a shot but…”

Spock nodded and backed away. “I will pass and work through it.”

He returned to his quarters, stopped briefly before Jim’s, but then continued to his own door.