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"See?" Malcolm makes a gesture to Kirk's outfit. "Not the height of fashion, but the height of *utility*."

"I feel like a sandbag."

"Then you ought to reconsider your eating habits." Malcolm marches around Kirk in a circle, inspecting, then tugs at a few wrinkles before stepping back, satisfied.

"Oh, we've got a comedian now, huh?" Kirk moves, re-wrinkling all those wrinkles Malcolm had just pulled out. The Englishman frowns. "Our pants have pockets. It works out."

"I've seen you rip shirts like paper. I'd like to see you so easily tear *this*."

"Okay, first, usually it's because I'm getting cut or shot with something, not pure strength, although I appreciate you think I'm that ridiculously strong." (Malcolm snorts lightly.) "Second, you could at least make it look good. Your uniforms look pretty good. This is just..."

"An example. Fine, you can go and get it dyed. I always found the material to be more important, personally, but I suppose there's something to be said for looks."

"Does this make my ass look huge? I need to know for scientific reasons."