"We lived together before we started doing this," McCoy says pedantically, gesturing between them with a loose gesture of his fingers. "And half the reason I'm here is because I do have patients in the clinic and not that you remember, but about a week and a half ago, you brought me a woman riddled with the black plague. Yeah, I'm sleeping here to avoid conflict, but it's not the only goddamn reason," he snaps, the anger at the situation bubbling up within him and he wants to lash out.

He sighs, heavily. "I mean it, Jim. I didn't want to coerce you into anything. Are you doing this because you remember us? Or are you doing this because someone told you that you should." He'd been there during the Academy and he'd watched Jim make his way through people's beds -- sometimes for the sex and sometimes for whatever he felt he needed to make up for, time or experience or something.