Data is not feeling ambitious enough to appreciate her curves, just yet. He lets his gaze wander inconspicuously upwards only as far as her calves, and stops. He puts the medkit back into the leather bag exactly as it was, and gets up to replace it underneath the bed.

"It does," he replies, his back turned. "I did not have it originally, I was told, but apparently it became necessary." He stops there, noticing a small surge of the emotion he has come to know as embarrassment. And suddenly he wonders why he told her that.

Now that the medkit is back in its proper place, Data stands up again, not quite sure what to do with himself.