"Blood fever," Uhura translated. But there was so much that literal translations couldn't tell a person. Effects, duration, results... His thoughts and emotions weren't his own? That seemed to be much more than a fever to her. Her expression deepened, creases in her face wrinkling as she stepped forward again. He was embarrassed. There were few things that she could remember him getting worked up enough about that he would actually show frustration and embarrassment at having to discuss them, but this...
It was natural. Clearly part of the biological process from what she could tell, so why was it such a difficult thing to get him to admit? Stepping closer once again, Nyota raised a hand to touch his cheek, attempting to turn his gaze back to hers.