Maybe it's just some deeply buried dirty secret that they don't want anyone to know about. [ But then Spock mentions poetry, and it gets Jim's attention. ]

If there aren't comedians, are there poets?

[ That compliment has Jim halting briefly before he reaches for his glass to take another drink. The smile that comes to his face is warm, and crinkles the corners of this eyes. ] You flatter me. She wouldn't say it was wasted, and neither do I. A meal shared with friends or family is never wasted.

[ He sets the drink away after a moment, and cuts up some fruit. ] That's a very compelling argument in our favor. I'll put it forward for review when we get to Yorktown, but it won't be for a few months.

I'm sure Commodore Paris will be amused by the idea.