"The pon farr is a mating ritual, systematically institutionalized over many millenia into my species' body chemistry. Dirt has nothing to do with it."
She was in a state of euphoria. Spock almost envied her ability to embrace that part of her. Why couldn't the drugs make him feel that way? Why did he have to fight it so much? Why was it so important? Because it was his history to expunge emotions. His lineage, his philosophy, everything in him was about suffocating that aspect of himself so that he could become one with true knowledge and understanding.
Emotions impeded one's ability to function logically.
But she made it seem so ... enjoyable.
Unfortunately, Vulcans didn't know how to have fun. It wasn't in their biology.
"Spock."
He tilted his attention back to the sky.
"Because that is where my friends are and where my home is."
His worldly home, that is. His real home was the Enterprise, and that was with him in The City. Somewhere, hovering above all the buildings. But it wasn't the same without its crew. Without its captain. Alone, the Enterprise was much like Spock. A vessel with no substance. No purpose. No meaning.
"I apologize for my seemingly melodramatic disposition. I am not myself. I fear anything I say or do may be illogical. It is ... disconcerting."