[He's there, kind of tucked into the corner with a beer already. What are you supposed to do when your mentor dies and you're stuck on a prison ship because you said you'd graduate someone? Because he's got, no ideas.]
[It's still kind of novel to let himself into the pub. He scans the room when he enters, spots Kirk and takes the time to grab a beer as well - which he really shouldn't have, but he doesn't really care - before heading over to slide into the seat across from Jim.]
[He's allowed, if it's only sometimes. James just nods at that, takes another drink. It's not like there's anything real to say to that. He knows first hand how empty an 'I'm sorry' can sound.]
Tell him to stop being a prat. Better yet, give him an order. [Though he'd probably have refused that, in his navy days. But whatever, maybe pointy eared aliens take orders more seriously.]
[Kirk smiles thinly, and it doesn't quite reach his eyes yet. Spock would tell him if he ordered him to. But that would involve talking to Spock which he doesn't want to, and he doesn't want to bring their relationship to that. He wants his crew to trust him without him pulling the trump card.]
Or I could just leave and go take care of it myself.
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[He's there, kind of tucked into the corner with a beer already. What are you supposed to do when your mentor dies and you're stuck on a prison ship because you said you'd graduate someone? Because he's got, no ideas.]
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Cheers, [he says as he pops the top off.]
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What happened?
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Kirk is silent for a long minute, fiddling with the wrapper on the bottle, peeling it off slowly.]
Someone died, back home. Someone that means a lot to me.
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Hasn't happened for you yet?
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Or I could just leave and go take care of it myself.
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Planning on it?
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Hard.
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No idea.
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[jfc dude, go kill a man. Bond is almost always in favor of that.]