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Krem sat in the bar alone, drinking a snail juice and thinking of the Vulcan he’d met on the Hew-mon ship. T’Pol was gorgeous, with delicately pointed ears, and incredibly talented hands. It really was too bad she’d pinched his neck and made him pass out. Maybe his teeth were a little too pointed for her. Maybe she was only interested in the small-lobed Hew-mons.
Krem supposed he’d never know, but she really would have made a handsome wife, especially once he got her home and out of those ridiculous clothes the Hew-mons forced her to wear. He was sure she’d be a lot more comfortable in nothing at all - women were on Ferenginar.
Krem figured the biggest difficulty for T’Pol would be the rain. Her planet was far drier than his own - he’d looked it up in a database they’d stolen not long after meeting her. But maybe she would like the rain? Or maybe he could find a nice, dry planet to live on. Or a moon somewhere, maybe. Most moons didn’t get much rain - at least the ones he’d visited.
It sure would be nice to have a house of his own, with a wife like T’Pol.