Jim chuckled, a warm, golden sound in the thick air around them. Kirk's face was solid, but there was something mutable about that touch, some part of them that seemed to melt into one another though their skin remained impermeable. Jim decided to think about it later. This could easily go in a certain direction, he knew that, but he wanted something else, first. Or thought it was needed. He wasn't sure where the conviction came from--he seemed to be in better shape than Kirk, more coherent, but it was all relative.

Yes. Show me your ship.