[ How is there a time when Faulkner is not appropriate. ]
That is very flattering, thank you Captain.
[ He has not been complimented.
Nevertheless he maintains enough faith in his words to send the carefully vetted message, double-checking for typos this time in order to maintain an illusion of sensibility. Not for his own pride, not when Kirk has seen him reduced to tears and manic with laughter, but to keep his captain from worrying. ]
I am by the toilets. You will pass mangos first. Proceed 9.64 meters north-northeast from the entrance.
(on checking the first message, he very nearly stops to take a minute to think. on checking the next, he remembers why he's here: spock is in a vulnerable state and trusts him to guide him home. only him, which is why he was the one who was asked for help. that is the very definition of "flattering," not whatever paltry excuse for comfort his last words were.
kirk knocks into a gentleman coming around the corner from the washrooms, getting an earful, but his vision centres on a lone figure in a distant corner.
spock, accompanied only by his groceries, in a foreign state of mind that makes something vital in his chest—deeper—restless. like it's been twisted in a fierce grip that takes the wind out of his lungs. their synchrony bond? not now; it couldn't be.)
[ His time on the bench is like an eternity of nausea and questioning, vision blurring against his will as he attempts to focus on his knees to keep himself steady. Occasionally his eyes return to his phone even as he attempts to avoid moving his head, no fresh messages taken as an encouraging sign. He's close – and sure enough he hears that familiar voice and looks up with a momentarily unguarded expression.
Eyes lighten as the corners of his lips begin to curve, bracing a hand against that bench in order to inch forward. It's enough, however, to disturb the bag at his side and upend it unceremoniously onto the floor, contents spilling everywhere. No matter when he can simply lean forward and begin slowly picking up each item – in his near vicinity – with exaggerated care. ]
Greetings, Captain. [ His voice is muffled when he's leaning over, fingers closing around a few cuts of meat wrapped in butcher's paper – with as many currents as they've attained recently he is able to pay more careful attention to Kirk's unique needs. ] My condition remains unchanged.
(it would be altogether too much for any unprepared man to handle. kirk spent the trip over threatening himself into being on his best behaviour. looks like the one spock's giving him, however, strain his resolve to respect the choice that was made. root vegetables making their great escape with a roll away from their feet don't help matters.
he's up, first focusing on the vulcan's pitch forward before sinking to a knee.) Watch that lean or you'll join us all on the floor. I'd rather you sit tight and hold that bag steady, please; I'll get the rest. (no response is given to the question posed, figuring it's unnecessary now with the distraction.
"full," however, would've been the word he used, having eaten more over dinner than he'd planned to.
kirk carefully saddles spock with a couple of sweet potatoes before chasing down beets now in desperate need of a thorough washing.) ... are you in any pain?
[ That "please" might as well be the post-script on a direct order for how it straightens his back, a highly military reflex that blessedly has him cease addressing the floor rather than his captain. The bag is opened wide to accommodate him as he waits patiently, breathing in deeply through his nose. ]
Yes, sir.
[ The bag is moved unnecessarily when Kirk returns with each vegetable, attempting to greet him with little sways forward that nevertheless don't slow their progress. Just make it into a bit more of a spectacle than it already was. ]
I am not, however, in pain. [ ... ] I am experiencing some discomfort in attempting to perform more complex calculations. [ What is a complex calculation to Spock, though... ]
(spock's behaviour is "adorable." yes, that's the best he could do.
he failed to think of a more poignant adjective to describe it after failing to convince himself he wasn't thinking anything inappropriate at all. biting the inside of his cheek to resist a smile was also a miserable flop.
why am i acting so stiff?)
Actually, I'm... relieved you contacted me. (dunking another grouping of vegetables into the bag before pushing off of a thigh to stand.) Do you want to know something? It was Mr. Yashiki's first experience with corn chowder. I couldn't believe it–and I didn't tell a single one of them it was vegan. They enjoyed it just as well as they would've if it'd had cream.
(excuse him, he's still astonished plant-based diets can taste good.)
All that to say that I'm well, Mr. Spock. Thank you for asking.
[ The buzzing in the back of his mind softens, turning from crisp cold white noise to a gentle brassy hum, like the wingbeats of a bumblebee on a sunny Earth day. He witnessed several during his time at the Academy, but they were never appreciated so well then as they are now, in memory.
He feels soothed. He doesn't have to wonder why. ]
That, Captain, is– [ His Vulcan mind hunts for an appropriate word as he eases himself to the farthest edge of the bench, preparing for his careful ascent to bipedal motion. ] –good.
It sounds as if you were pulled away from a very fascinating party. One in which corn chowder was the highlight of conversation.
[ ... ]
Do not tell them I said they were simple-minded. [ When did he say that, other than right now. More importantly, the implication here is that he wasn't serious in his review of the corn chowder's importance, and is therefore being heavily sarcastic. ]
(ducks his head the moment he begins to laugh as though hiding it will absolve him of the terrible crime he's committed against his friends. can he resist it when spock's only telling the truth as they both know it?)
I wouldn't dare repeat it, (kirk squeezes out, taking the bag of groceries from spock and reaching beneath his arm.) Though I hadn't realized gossip was a Vulcan discipline. I've been terribly lax in my studies. Now up you get– hang onto me–
(it's easy to manhandle him upright, but a far more precise task to get him steady enough to walk on his own. spock's tall, willowy in a way that kirk's considered elegant in the recent past, and it suits him to be all limbs. what they don't provide is stability where his current balance is concerned.)
[ Spock's response to Kirk's attempts to lift him, at first, is a heavy lean back onto the bench. No, this doesn't feel right... and the only way it will is if he reaches out for his captain's shoulder, squeezing just a bit too tightly as he relies on him to support his weight.
It's not unlike the first steps of a baby giraffe. ]
Very steady, Captain.
Gossip, as you would call it, is in fact a cornerstone of Vulcan society. It requires a subtle artistry. There was one master of this in my family, and it was not myself.
[ Alright, here we go, towards the door with another squeeze of that chilled hand. ]
(an eye shuts tight, his only brief, visible reaction to the vice on his shoulder. less painful than a nerve pinch, admittedly, which makes it easy to ignore. his training in the vulcan art sent him to the gymnasium mats more times than his poor derrière could tolerate.)
Spock, I mean this in the most respectful way, but are you referring to your own mother? (fondly remembers their very chaotic trip to babel and his private conversations with lady amanda.
but she wasn't all that subtle, apparently an integral part of this "cornerstone." kirk hikes the grocery bag higher up his hip and guides his first officer out into the night, sharply warding others out of their path with several variations of "excuse me.")
... on second thought, maybe not. I seem to recall Bones encountering very little resistance where talk of your childhood was concerned.
I do not believe that you would mention my mother disrespectfully.
[ His tone takes on a new hint of self-satisfaction, as if to say that yes, he has chosen his friends well. She is a woman due only praise and honor, after all. ]
She speaks openly, and so I refer instead to my brother. I have not picked up the habit. [ So he says as he casually drops this particular bomb. Through gossiping about the man.
His head inclines to a nearby stranger, echoing his captain helpfully with a soft "excuse us" as the background chorus. ]
Was anything of greater interest discussed at the dinner party?
(no visible shuttles and no hand to hail them with, he decides that the fresh air will be good for his first officer and steers them in the direction of home.
kirk's tripped up by the mention of a sibling, eyes growing wide when his eyebrows nearly raise into his hairline, but he manages valiantly to keep them on track—and spock away from the curb.)
I didn't know you had a brother. (he aims a warm smile at him, always beaming when he discovers something new about spock that he hadn't known prior. the groceries effuse the scent of ginger and garlic.) What's his name, this master of Vulcan bruit?
Nothing of greater interest was discussed at the dinner party, [ he adds quietly, as much to Kirk as it is to himself. Nothing, at least, more interesting than the fact that he has a brother.
Perhaps this says little. He would, after all, drop most topics to discuss Sam. ]
He is called Sybok, son of Sarek. My father would not have you know he was previously married to another, but this is preferable to having you think he had been unfaithful to my mother. [ And since news of Spock's hybridism being an affliction suffered solely by him is widespread, well... he feels the need to explain.
His eyes turn skyward as if in dedication to his absent family, but this is perhaps a mistake as it does little for his balance and forces him to lean against his captain even more heavily. ]
(no, the dinner party isn't what he wishes to talk about, as distant from the forefront of his mind as any other unmemorable soirée. spock, his life, his family, and the rarely discussed subjects never broached between them, will never fail to capture his interest and attention entirely.
that, and spock's sideways tilt is giving him just enough trouble for him to produce a distracted grunt, redoubling his efforts to straighten him up. this involves tightening his hold as well as leaving a stabilizing palm at the centre of his chest in what will hopefully be a useful metric when determining where gravity's unrelenting pull is sending the vulcan.)
There we go, right as rain. (dutifully ignoring the burn of satisfaction in both the apples of his cheeks and the pit of his gut, eyes forward.) I wasn't aware that the Ambassador had such a storied past, though I shouldn't be surprised. Were they separated by... divorce—if there is such a thing on Vulcan—or her passing?
Maybe that's inappropriate to ask. Were you very close with Sybok?
[ He takes a deep breath, one that might be steadying in any other circumstance but in this one it does little to aid him. The only thing that does is a muscular back and solid set of shoulders, depending on him ever more as they speak. ]
We do indeed experience divorce, or a most similar concept. You did, after all, witness my own. [ Which might be a blow that deserves a bit more softening but if Spock is disturbed by the memory or ill-at-ease then it certainly doesn't show, even with the benefit of inebriation.
He moves neatly past the topic, however, sparing his captain the news of Sarek's first wife's passing. Logically there is no shame in it, but propriety should still be observed. ]
Sybok... When we were closest he was still advancing to new stages in his life where I could not easily follow. I was also not encouraged to do so. [ Here his voice deepens and softens uncharacteristically, like he's sharing a particularly delicate secret. ]
(since the fight between them on vulcan, he has decided to entertain only one regret: spock had been publicly humiliated before family, friends, and strangers. asking his first officer to accompany him closely for the remainder of their duty shift—"mind the store" were his words, he remembers, because no detail about that day could ever be forgotten—was all he could do after to make him feel as welcome as he's always been.
his grip on him tightens. he doesn't consider its possessiveness.)
You have a very diverse family. (it's a safe statement because it's true. a vulcan father, a human mother, a vulcan child, and a half-human child. he can't imagine what their nightly dinners must have been like.) I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with him... rebelliousness isn't common in Vulcans, I've gathered. Did your parents think his behaviour would rub off on you?
My mother and father were prepossessed with the idea that Sam's and my friends would become "bad influences" on us. Perhaps that overbearingness is a universal constant.
Or perhaps they were truly bad influences. Though logically it is altogether possible that your parents allowed their affection for you to make them overly concerned, I find it... preferable to assume their judgement was accurate.
[ Wherever you are right now, George and Winona, you have someone playing devil's advocate for your instincts on Iowan teens. ]
As for Sybok, it was possible. Best not to risk it when our standing in society was already so– [ Here he cuts himself short, appearing uncharacteristically indecisive over his word choice. Again, as before, he looks upward for his answer. Seemingly, he finds it. ]
–observed. More so every year, and so Sybok was merely one more chapter my father tried to forget.
In Sam's case, they were right. (he sighs, nostalgia in his tone.
what spock finds preferable is something he has to agree with. his parents loved them and, while occasionally that sentiment got lost in translation in the seemingly insurmountable space between job and family, he's thankful they worried. and he misses them, misses sam, misses the farm.
grateful, his fingers sink into the fabric of spock's clothing. if spock hadn't arrived on noctium with him, what would've he done with himself? who would he have been spending his time with and in what capacity? would he have thrived or barely survived?)
... Ambassador Sarek has a very un-Vulcan way about him. (it comes out before he can prevent it, tongue looser tonight than it's been in some time. his eyes cast down and away to meet the lingering stares of the locals.) I'm sorry if that's offensive to you or to your family. I can't understand it and, while I'd strive to, I don't think I would ever agree with his parenting.
Not that– ("not that i can talk"? isn't that a bit too private?) Well, my impressions hardly matter. I would like to meet your brother someday, however. Is he still on Vulcan? What does he do for work?
[ Initially talking about his mother's gossiping habits, while technically shameful on Vulcan, had brought him some sense of inebriated amusement. Even speaking about Sybok allows for pleasant memories to resurface that he had kept carefully siloed. Now, however... there is – what is for all intents and purposes, at least on his home planet – an insult paid to his father which causes him to free a derisive snort and then immediately judge himself for doing so.
Truly his emotions are out of control right now, and his renewed realization of this has it growing worse. ]
Sybok is... I do not know where Sybok is. I do not anticipate that I will ever see him again. [ Which is truthful, and conveyed calmly, but there is a new deeper furrow to his brow as he suddenly stops them both in their tracks, gripping at Kirk's shoulder with a tight hold as he turns to fully face him. ]
(the snort very nearly bowls him over. it takes a second for him to realize spock isn't choking on something and is, in fact, expelling his feelings about his father out of his nose. apropos, and about the level of respect deserved.
his delight at the snort, however, is quick to fade in the wake of the new pace and mood. spock's close proximity to his face doesn't help matters, having to force his eyes away from parted bow-shaped lips to the bag of groceries between them in a sudden fit of apprehension. this incident is happening too soon after his confession and it puts him on edge. he doesn't want the attention, yet it's all he's ever wanted.
get a hold of yourself. spock needs you.)
Yeah. Of course, we can.
(kirk makes a genuine attempt to regain his footing and meet spock's gaze, successful. he doesn't want to become a man who'd put his own pining before his concern for his best friend. it's not only clear that the topic has wounded some part of him, he's unstable, emotionally compromised, and it's his duty to help him. an open expression won't frighten him, not after all they've been through.)
Want to know something? I've always been envious of your talent with music. Lyre, piano, singing, and all the rest... I've learned a lot over the years and I've studied many subjects but never once did I focus on an instrument. It's a little embarrassing to admit.
There's something about being an observer and a listener that I've always enjoyed. When you play, I find it relaxing. I'd like to be able to evoke that feeling in others. It'd be useful at times like these.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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That is very flattering, thank you Captain.
[ He has not been complimented.
Nevertheless he maintains enough faith in his words to send the carefully vetted message, double-checking for typos this time in order to maintain an illusion of sensibility. Not for his own pride, not when Kirk has seen him reduced to tears and manic with laughter, but to keep his captain from worrying. ]
I am by the toilets. You will pass mangos first. Proceed 9.64 meters north-northeast from the entrance.
1/2
kirk knocks into a gentleman coming around the corner from the washrooms, getting an earful, but his vision centres on a lone figure in a distant corner.
spock, accompanied only by his groceries, in a foreign state of mind that makes something vital in his chest—deeper—restless. like it's been twisted in a fierce grip that takes the wind out of his lungs. their synchrony bond? not now; it couldn't be.)
2/2
the first thing he does is touch his shoulder before sinking down onto the bench next to him.)
Are you alright?
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Eyes lighten as the corners of his lips begin to curve, bracing a hand against that bench in order to inch forward. It's enough, however, to disturb the bag at his side and upend it unceremoniously onto the floor, contents spilling everywhere. No matter when he can simply lean forward and begin slowly picking up each item – in his near vicinity – with exaggerated care. ]
Greetings, Captain. [ His voice is muffled when he's leaning over, fingers closing around a few cuts of meat wrapped in butcher's paper – with as many currents as they've attained recently he is able to pay more careful attention to Kirk's unique needs. ] My condition remains unchanged.
How are you?
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he's up, first focusing on the vulcan's pitch forward before sinking to a knee.) Watch that lean or you'll join us all on the floor. I'd rather you sit tight and hold that bag steady, please; I'll get the rest. (no response is given to the question posed, figuring it's unnecessary now with the distraction.
"full," however, would've been the word he used, having eaten more over dinner than he'd planned to.
kirk carefully saddles spock with a couple of sweet potatoes before chasing down beets now in desperate need of a thorough washing.) ... are you in any pain?
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Yes, sir.
[ The bag is moved unnecessarily when Kirk returns with each vegetable, attempting to greet him with little sways forward that nevertheless don't slow their progress. Just make it into a bit more of a spectacle than it already was. ]
I am not, however, in pain. [ ... ] I am experiencing some discomfort in attempting to perform more complex calculations. [ What is a complex calculation to Spock, though... ]
How are you? [ AGAIN. ]
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he failed to think of a more poignant adjective to describe it after failing to convince himself he wasn't thinking anything inappropriate at all. biting the inside of his cheek to resist a smile was also a miserable flop.
why am i acting so stiff?)
Actually, I'm... relieved you contacted me. (dunking another grouping of vegetables into the bag before pushing off of a thigh to stand.) Do you want to know something? It was Mr. Yashiki's first experience with corn chowder. I couldn't believe it–and I didn't tell a single one of them it was vegan. They enjoyed it just as well as they would've if it'd had cream.
(excuse him, he's still astonished plant-based diets can taste good.)
All that to say that I'm well, Mr. Spock. Thank you for asking.
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He feels soothed. He doesn't have to wonder why. ]
That, Captain, is– [ His Vulcan mind hunts for an appropriate word as he eases himself to the farthest edge of the bench, preparing for his careful ascent to bipedal motion. ] –good.
It sounds as if you were pulled away from a very fascinating party. One in which corn chowder was the highlight of conversation.
[ ... ]
Do not tell them I said they were simple-minded. [ When did he say that, other than right now. More importantly, the implication here is that he wasn't serious in his review of the corn chowder's importance, and is therefore being heavily sarcastic. ]
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(ducks his head the moment he begins to laugh as though hiding it will absolve him of the terrible crime he's committed against his friends. can he resist it when spock's only telling the truth as they both know it?)
I wouldn't dare repeat it, (kirk squeezes out, taking the bag of groceries from spock and reaching beneath his arm.) Though I hadn't realized gossip was a Vulcan discipline. I've been terribly lax in my studies. Now up you get– hang onto me–
(it's easy to manhandle him upright, but a far more precise task to get him steady enough to walk on his own. spock's tall, willowy in a way that kirk's considered elegant in the recent past, and it suits him to be all limbs. what they don't provide is stability where his current balance is concerned.)
Steady... alright?
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It's not unlike the first steps of a baby giraffe. ]
Very steady, Captain.
Gossip, as you would call it, is in fact a cornerstone of Vulcan society. It requires a subtle artistry. There was one master of this in my family, and it was not myself.
[ Alright, here we go, towards the door with another squeeze of that chilled hand. ]
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Spock, I mean this in the most respectful way, but are you referring to your own mother? (fondly remembers their very chaotic trip to babel and his private conversations with lady amanda.
but she wasn't all that subtle, apparently an integral part of this "cornerstone." kirk hikes the grocery bag higher up his hip and guides his first officer out into the night, sharply warding others out of their path with several variations of "excuse me.")
... on second thought, maybe not. I seem to recall Bones encountering very little resistance where talk of your childhood was concerned.
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[ His tone takes on a new hint of self-satisfaction, as if to say that yes, he has chosen his friends well. She is a woman due only praise and honor, after all. ]
She speaks openly, and so I refer instead to my brother. I have not picked up the habit. [ So he says as he casually drops this particular bomb. Through gossiping about the man.
His head inclines to a nearby stranger, echoing his captain helpfully with a soft "excuse us" as the background chorus. ]
Was anything of greater interest discussed at the dinner party?
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kirk's tripped up by the mention of a sibling, eyes growing wide when his eyebrows nearly raise into his hairline, but he manages valiantly to keep them on track—and spock away from the curb.)
I didn't know you had a brother. (he aims a warm smile at him, always beaming when he discovers something new about spock that he hadn't known prior. the groceries effuse the scent of ginger and garlic.) What's his name, this master of Vulcan bruit?
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Perhaps this says little. He would, after all, drop most topics to discuss Sam. ]
He is called Sybok, son of Sarek. My father would not have you know he was previously married to another, but this is preferable to having you think he had been unfaithful to my mother. [ And since news of Spock's hybridism being an affliction suffered solely by him is widespread, well... he feels the need to explain.
His eyes turn skyward as if in dedication to his absent family, but this is perhaps a mistake as it does little for his balance and forces him to lean against his captain even more heavily. ]
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that, and spock's sideways tilt is giving him just enough trouble for him to produce a distracted grunt, redoubling his efforts to straighten him up. this involves tightening his hold as well as leaving a stabilizing palm at the centre of his chest in what will hopefully be a useful metric when determining where gravity's unrelenting pull is sending the vulcan.)
There we go, right as rain. (dutifully ignoring the burn of satisfaction in both the apples of his cheeks and the pit of his gut, eyes forward.) I wasn't aware that the Ambassador had such a storied past, though I shouldn't be surprised. Were they separated by... divorce—if there is such a thing on Vulcan—or her passing?
Maybe that's inappropriate to ask. Were you very close with Sybok?
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We do indeed experience divorce, or a most similar concept. You did, after all, witness my own. [ Which might be a blow that deserves a bit more softening but if Spock is disturbed by the memory or ill-at-ease then it certainly doesn't show, even with the benefit of inebriation.
He moves neatly past the topic, however, sparing his captain the news of Sarek's first wife's passing. Logically there is no shame in it, but propriety should still be observed. ]
Sybok... When we were closest he was still advancing to new stages in his life where I could not easily follow. I was also not encouraged to do so. [ Here his voice deepens and softens uncharacteristically, like he's sharing a particularly delicate secret. ]
He is... rebellious.
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(since the fight between them on vulcan, he has decided to entertain only one regret: spock had been publicly humiliated before family, friends, and strangers. asking his first officer to accompany him closely for the remainder of their duty shift—"mind the store" were his words, he remembers, because no detail about that day could ever be forgotten—was all he could do after to make him feel as welcome as he's always been.
his grip on him tightens. he doesn't consider its possessiveness.)
You have a very diverse family. (it's a safe statement because it's true. a vulcan father, a human mother, a vulcan child, and a half-human child. he can't imagine what their nightly dinners must have been like.) I'm sorry you didn't get to spend more time with him... rebelliousness isn't common in Vulcans, I've gathered. Did your parents think his behaviour would rub off on you?
My mother and father were prepossessed with the idea that Sam's and my friends would become "bad influences" on us. Perhaps that overbearingness is a universal constant.
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[ Wherever you are right now, George and Winona, you have someone playing devil's advocate for your instincts on Iowan teens. ]
As for Sybok, it was possible. Best not to risk it when our standing in society was already so– [ Here he cuts himself short, appearing uncharacteristically indecisive over his word choice. Again, as before, he looks upward for his answer. Seemingly, he finds it. ]
–observed. More so every year, and so Sybok was merely one more chapter my father tried to forget.
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what spock finds preferable is something he has to agree with. his parents loved them and, while occasionally that sentiment got lost in translation in the seemingly insurmountable space between job and family, he's thankful they worried. and he misses them, misses sam, misses the farm.
grateful, his fingers sink into the fabric of spock's clothing. if spock hadn't arrived on noctium with him, what would've he done with himself? who would he have been spending his time with and in what capacity? would he have thrived or barely survived?)
... Ambassador Sarek has a very un-Vulcan way about him. (it comes out before he can prevent it, tongue looser tonight than it's been in some time. his eyes cast down and away to meet the lingering stares of the locals.) I'm sorry if that's offensive to you or to your family. I can't understand it and, while I'd strive to, I don't think I would ever agree with his parenting.
Not that– ("not that i can talk"? isn't that a bit too private?) Well, my impressions hardly matter. I would like to meet your brother someday, however. Is he still on Vulcan? What does he do for work?
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Truly his emotions are out of control right now, and his renewed realization of this has it growing worse. ]
Sybok is... I do not know where Sybok is. I do not anticipate that I will ever see him again. [ Which is truthful, and conveyed calmly, but there is a new deeper furrow to his brow as he suddenly stops them both in their tracks, gripping at Kirk's shoulder with a tight hold as he turns to fully face him. ]
Jim. Let's speak of something else.
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his delight at the snort, however, is quick to fade in the wake of the new pace and mood. spock's close proximity to his face doesn't help matters, having to force his eyes away from parted bow-shaped lips to the bag of groceries between them in a sudden fit of apprehension. this incident is happening too soon after his confession and it puts him on edge. he doesn't want the attention, yet it's all he's ever wanted.
get a hold of yourself. spock needs you.)
Yeah. Of course, we can.
(kirk makes a genuine attempt to regain his footing and meet spock's gaze, successful. he doesn't want to become a man who'd put his own pining before his concern for his best friend. it's not only clear that the topic has wounded some part of him, he's unstable, emotionally compromised, and it's his duty to help him. an open expression won't frighten him, not after all they've been through.)
Want to know something? I've always been envious of your talent with music. Lyre, piano, singing, and all the rest... I've learned a lot over the years and I've studied many subjects but never once did I focus on an instrument. It's a little embarrassing to admit.
There's something about being an observer and a listener that I've always enjoyed. When you play, I find it relaxing. I'd like to be able to evoke that feeling in others. It'd be useful at times like these.