A Good Ear

"You know..." Bones raised his cup towards the sky. For a moment just it hung there, swaying slightly. "They say... they say, on Vulcan, that the shape of your ears determine your soulmate."

Jim glanced up at him. How much of the bourboun had ended up in his coffee? There was a fair amount in Jim's cup, too. "What?"

"S'true!"

"How would you know?"

Bones pointed to his head. "Had him in here." His eyes widened. "I remember stuff. Honest truth."

Jim snorted, taking a drink. "I'm not Spock"

"Just saying," Bones looked up. "You and him got good ears."