[ Spy games and subterfuge aren't exactly require courses at the Academy. When a simple away mission on a pre-warp planet has Jim's first officer going missing though, he and the rest of the crew have to get---creative. They had taken precautions to meet outside of the city or in secured areas where they couldn't accidentally be caught or influence the people of this world, but after three days of failed check-ins with the ship from Spock, things were noticeably tense.

When they hear of some fancy party, invitation only sort of thing, that promises a delight in the form of a man who is not of their world, it gets Hendorff's attention, and makes Jim's temper flare. He can't afford to show it, not in front of his command crew, but the idea that they are showing him off like some old-fashioned sideshow act makes his blood boil. The more they find out, the worse it gets. There's apparently an auction now, and you have to know the right people to get an invite.

So maybe there's a beam up of a guy in charge of the invitations and he uses one of the more menacing looking members of his crew (who volunteers to fake terrorize the poor guy even though they are a generally peaceful race) to get a personal invite. The Prime Directive is already broken and Jim's give a damn button is completely busted. If Spock ends up outing him to the Admirality again, then so be it. If this gets him in the door, and one of his best and only friends home, then it is worth it.

He's not going to stand idly by and watch one of his crew get sold at auction like some idle conversation piece.

So, he's got the clothes. He's got what passes for money on this world, and an invitation to a very private showing and auction. It takes every ounce of self control that he has for him to not lose it as soon as he goes in. He's got Uhura in one ear, listening intently to everything, in an attempt to guide him, but also to translate what he doesn't get. He's good in a pinch, but nowhere near her level of good. Again, he's reminded of how he has the best crew in the whole galaxy. Their professionalism, despite the circumstances, is grounding.

But seeing so many different people milling about, idly chattering about the people held captive behind layers of unbreakable metal and glass---it's disgusting. He has to feign nonchalance, even boredom, before he makes his way over to where Spock is being held. What he wants, desperately, is to take his hand phaser to the glass, beat the hell out of the person in charge of this shitshow, and go back to his ship with his first officer in tow. He can't pretend he recognizes Spock, which probably hurts the most in this whole thing, because he doesn't know what kind of surveillance they have on this backwater planet of assholes.

So when he's asked if he sees anything he likes, he takes a moment, jaw clenching, and pulls in a steadying breath before turning to look at the person in question, sarcasm coloring his features and his voice: ]

A man from space, please. What kind of people do you take your patrons for?

[ Now that he's signaled that he knows where Spock is, it is only a matter of getting him out without ---destroying what's left of the Prime Directive. He has a key, of sorts, something Scotty and Chekov came up with that will disable all the electronic locks in the building. He just needs the opportunity to switch it on. ]

Any good cosmetic surgeon could do what you've done here. I don't see why I should risk my money, and my personal safety from the militant advocates around the city against what you do, on the possibility that you might have the genuine article.

Call me particular, but I want proof.