"That's what I figured." The scent of coffee beans hits the air like a fist, and Jim's stomach gives a sickening roll, forcing him to press a hand to his belly. Still, more caffeine is a good idea - he can't think of anything but the tricorder until it's finished, and sleep won't come. His brain has to recharge one way or another.

He sits at the table, waiting for the coffee to slowly drip its way into existence, and watches Bones. After days alone in the country, it's strange to have another living, bustling body so near, strange but good. Jim smiles faintly at him, and the words come tumbling out. "Can't find Spock."