Having allocated enough time to eat in the evenings, in between attending his thesis and other projects at Stark Industries (Wayne has him until mid-afternoon, typically after an early start and a nightmare that very morning, in fact) Spock pauses when a sheet of florid ice creeps with unnatural haste over the window nearby. He locks his PADD and moves over to the glass, peering out to find Jack has already moved on to the next.

Which is how he comes upon him at unawares several moments after walking out of the building, PADD and hands clasped behind his back as he waits to be noticed, taking stock of the entire glittery display. His coat and suchlike are inside, but for now he isn't bothered by the cold breeze that tugs at his collar and cuffs.

"I have not yet concluded my research for the evening. Impressive," he says, pointedly inclining his head at the scrawling designs on the building. "Do you name your artistic endeavors?"