#sunspotnitentia

“Captain, if you would allow a personal query.” The Enterprise was once more operational, ready to soar through space ( really just explore space ) when the crew would be ready to leave. If Spock had chosen to remain here instead of following on his plans to take the Ambassador's place ( and made peace with his own personal decision ) there was a certain left over curiosity, call it logical curiosity, upon Jim's own decision. He didn't know the details, but he knew enough for the question to arise. It was logical, after all, to pursue a higher goal in his career. Then again, his own choice hadn't followed true logic, had it?

He’s definitely up to something, check the Captain’s Logs for unusual side activities, and I’ll go interrogate engineering.

[ he'll just stare really. he's not getting bullied into admitting it. and those eyes work on bones only, shoo, jim, shoo, i've got work to do and you're being a distraction  ]

"I believe 'right' is relative to the eyes of who judges a world that is not his." He pointed out calmly, tone cold with his unwavering and intent eyes fixed on the younger man. Somehow there was a sentiment of resignation to the universe always opening and spitting beings from right and left, lost in dimensions.

If they think there’s ever a possibility that it would happen:          “No.”

“Just open the goddamn door, Jim. What’s so bad you’ve made em wait in the hall, yelling at you through the door jamb, for ten minutes?” He’s getting real sick of the empathetic looks being thrown his way every time an Ensign with a face walks down this hall. It’s a small ship when it houses 400 goddamn people in a residential zone the size of half a metropolitan office building. “I didn’t leave five minutes ago, so I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Y’know, Jim,” he starts, casual, as he changes out of his uniform into standard issue underclothes, running through reports to see if any suggest the Captain had a hard day, “when I fantasize about coming back to my room to find someone in my bed,” he sits on the edge, leaning back so he can feel Jim’s warmth through the covers, and looks for a glimpse of Jim’s face, “it usually doesn’t start off with napping.”