A LA CARTE

Mary Stacy--



“You always do that,” she hissed her displeasure under her breath, well aware that he could hear every word.

He looked away from the brief he was reading and glanced over at his wife, brows raised in a question.

“I am right here, you know, and perfectly able to speak for myself.”

He pulled his shoulders up and into the high back of the chair and took a breath, opening his mouth to defend his actions, but it seemed he was not quick enough.

“You wouldn’t do that to a Vulcan woman, would you? She would surely be given every opportunity to voice her own decision!”

Doubtless his wife was correct here; he would never have presumed to speak for her were she Vulcan. She stared at him, her mouth set in a straight, determined line, daring him to give the proper response, whatever that might be.

“I apologize, Amanda, it is only because I am more familiar with the cuisine of this world…”

“You did it when we were on Earth as well!”

Sarek sighed; there was no winning here. "And what would you have different then, my wife?”

Amanda tilted her head and smiled at him, content now, having made her point, “No, the M’ah’n’kaese sounds quite good to me as well, so I think I’ll stick with that.”

He sighed, wondering if indeed all Earth women were like this, or if it had been his “luck”.

Mischief danced in her eyes, mixed with candlelight, and he felt the brush of her foot against his leg under the hidden confines of the table.

It was worth it in the end…