Oh and we know how much you like logic. [ grabbing a scanner from the tray and running it over Spock. ] How the hell did you go about doing this? Looks like you got into a fistfight with a pack of wild sehlats and lost. Oh for cryin' out loud, [ dropping his scanner on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose. ]

Blasted thing's more useless than a space heater on fire in the middle of a Georgian summer. I've got no idea how that weirdo half-Vulcan physiology of yours works; can't tell if your vitals are off if I don't know the baseline. Where the hell's M'Benga when you need 'im?