Jim grins in reply, shrugging his shoulders. "It's fine. No policy means no official paperwork, either, so hopefully it won't be too bad."

Her glance in his direction, and its unspoken question, is answered with a small nod. "I don't know what half this stuff is," he admits, nodding towards some of the more obscure items on offer. "But it's definitely Vulcan."

He doesn't go straight for the food, deciding instead to take his time and browse a little. You never know what you'll find, after all, and there just might be something else worthy of gifting to Spock hiding among the shop's wares. Especially with this sort of variety. There are indeed incense sticks and cones available for purchase, of several different varieties, as well as meditative candles and oil lamps, and ceremonial gongs and chimes. A small collection of alien weaponry dominates one shelf, including a long braided cord that looks sort of like an old-fashioned sling, and a short pole with a fan-shaped blade on one end and a rounded weight on the other. Jim's attention is almost immediately snared by a shelf full of books, however, tracing his fingers over desert-baked leather bindings, their covers marked with a looping alien calligraphy.