T’Pol looked up at him, one of her eyebrows climbing in amusement even as she struggled to contain the smile the threatened to spoil her poise. Her mate rolled his eyes before sighing.
“The sun isn’t up yet,” he said calmly, “so I’m going to go try and catch some fish before it does.” T’Pol opened her mouth to comment, but Trip continued over her. “I need some real food, not those damned mango-nuts you seem to like.” His expression barely changed, although she could feel the hint of suppressed disgust he felt at the idea of consuming another of the tropical fruits. “I figure it can’t be that hard to make a good fishing rod out of nothing but sticks, right?”
“I suppose not,” T’Pol conceded although she had given very little thought about how one would go about constructing such a device.
