To an intragalactic flyboy like James Kirk, pink hair and tattoos probably don't even rate on the scale of interesting things he's seen this week. They don't much stand out in an interdimensional marketplace, either. It's probably just as well. Verity's only looking to do her shopping. She weaves through the crowd with the ease of a local, one hand balancing a basket full of groceries (including the requisite two baguettes and bouquet of flowers) on her hip when she stops to look at this or that. By the look of things, she's either got a massive appetite or is shopping for a crowd.

When Jim comes into view, she gives his uniform a curious look that doesn't bear the flicker of recognition. Star Trek didn't feature much in her childhood, and it's not the sort of movie her Asgardian friends would have dragged her to. He gets a brief smile of 'yes I see you seeing me looking at you let's not make this awkward' before she looks down at the piles of alien fruit. Or maybe heirloom, and this is what food looks like when the taste hasn't be bred out?

"Try these," she suggests a moment later, pointing to a stack of golden plums. "They're sweeter."