SPOCK: This is not a competition, Doctor. Whether you understand it or not, grant me my own kind of dignity.
MCCOY: Vulcan dignity? How can I grant you what I don’t understand?
SPOCK: Then employ one of your own superstitions. Wish me luck.
[They stare at each other for a while, then Spock leaves. The doors close.]
MCCOY: Good luck, Spock.