Captain Kirk, stubborn as usual, has a particularly pleasant conversation with his First Officer, just before Doctor McCoy's poison-anecdote knocks him out cold.

I know McCoy has made an art of invective, but those are powerful words he has there.

+

“I’m worried about Kirk, he seems not quite himself,” she said hesitantly.

“I conquer. I too have seen the Captain’s hesitations as of late. It is not his nature,” Spock replied.

“Today, I was overseeing transfer of documents and transmitions to Starfleet,” she said quietly. “And….”

Spock: He came. He saw. He ogled Uhura's transmitions.

+

The images in front of him were of an aired, hot, rocky, planet.

I like my planets well-aired too.

+

James T. Kirk, every bit in his mid-twenties and young like the rest of his mainly young crew, closed out his log entry and looked up at the viewing screen, pondering what all of these events meant.

Every bit in his mid-twenties, except for those pesky mind-meld memories of Old!Kirk and Spock!Prime, which were in their thirties, forties, fifties and other doddery ages.