"What is three months?" Uhura snapped, carefully controlled frustration coming out in a demand. "You keep saying half of what is going on here."

She didn't just mean whatever was happening to his father, but what was happening to McCoy as well. She felt for him even as she snapped at him. But they were Starfleet officers in a potentially threatening situation. (Living out months, years, God only knew how long in an ever-repeating loop was a life-threatening situation in Uhura's book, for damn sure.) McCoy had every right to fall apart after he made sure his crewmates were able to carry him through.