Everyone should wish for a good woman, or a good man, in the winter. It is so very cold and lonely otherwise.

[He ignores the memory that may have been shared, ignores whatever it is that Spock is trying to say, sincerely or not. He doesn't think about her. Not if he's sober.]

It is less who and more of a what. Not many women of red hair and a full bust int he village that care for my company- but perhaps I might weather the winter with two very fine gentlemen instead.