He didn't know where this need to touch was coming from. Oh, he was a tactile person at the best of times, but normally he knew better than to be so casually intimate where it so obviously wasn't welcome. Something, he told himself, for the eighteenth time, was up with him. Something in his brain was finding it difficult to gauge where inappropriate behaviour began. Something that was also making it a little hard to breathe. It was cooler in the building than outside, but still his shirt was clinging damply to his back.

Focus, Bill told himself. Focus. Time to be more appropriate.

Damn, that was a nice suit Kirk was wearing.

"That's a nice suit you're wearing," Bill remarked.

Evidently his mind was yet to wrap itself around the concept.

He cleared his throat. "So...at least you'll...look good for ten hours a day?" he ventured.

This was bad; this was very very bad.