James T. Kirk

With the sentencing over, the Enterprise would soon be leaving Sha'Kwai and returning to its original mission. By this point, Jim was ready for it. He wanted off the planet, his wanderlust getting the better of it. It was the longest stretch of time he had spent in once place minus his years at the Academy - always moving, always traveling, wanting to see what was over the next horizon.

So he sent out a general message, letting his crew know that he'd be available to talk anything official or not. He wasn't entirely ready to give up his time though, and held office right on the deck of his quarters. There were several PADDs spread out on the table beside him, a pair of sunglasses on his nose, and he relaxed in the warmth of the sun. The door to his quarters were wide open and he was clearly visible from the front door.

(OOC: As promised, an open office thread. If we've discussed something about this, or even if we haven't and you have something you wanna thread about, come on in!)

Between finding out about Alex, finding out about Spot, and finding out that the bridge had gotten something from the planet below, Kirk was... well, frustrated wasn't quite the word. Stressed was definitely it, and there was one thing (other then alcohol, and he was refusing to go that low right now) that worked to get him ... okay TWO things including sex, but that wasn't (amazingly) on his mind either.

He wanted to punch something. Hard. Jim sounded like a good idea for a sparring partner right now.

With a fast comm to Jim, he had himself a sparring partner as he got off shift. He went back to his quarters and pulled on the same basic clothing he had worn back at the Academy when teaching classes - no formal gi, just loose shorts and a tee shirt.

He glanced around the gym, wondering if he had beat Jim there. When he didn't spot his counterpart, he found a flat, open spot and started to stretch out. Briefly, he wondered if pulling out safety equipment would be a good idea. At least the gloves. It'd keep his knuckles from ending up with bruises... and putting any on Jim.

There is a certain moment that people take, where they close their eyes and take a slow, deep breath inwards. For that moment, right at the very peak of the breath, the world around vanishes, thoughts disappear, and the body seems to almost float. Try it. Slow, deep breath with the eyes closed.

Each breath was slow, deep, measured. It filled the lungs, as loud as the rush of the ocean on the beach. Underneath it all was the same slow, deep, measured toll of each heartbeat.

It was on the peak of one of those breaths that his eyes opened. White light spilled between his eyelids, then the world became fuzzy colors, then fuzzy outlines, then solid ones. He was staring at a ceiling. So he remained there, time unknown and unmeasured, staring. It was better then the darkness, at any rate.

Sickbay? Looked like the ceiling, at least. The picture of sickbay built in his mind as he heard the biobed's continuous digital beat, the sound of someone murmuring in the distance, the smell of antiseptic, the hum of something mechanical around him.

So, naturally, he sat up. He took a slow look around him, feeling strangely distant from everything, even himself. Bedsheets covered him, there was something glowing slowly around him, and yes, definitely in sickbay.

It should have been very strange to look back down at himself as he stood up, yet there was nothing. No panic, no terror, just a strange divorced feeling. Kirk shifted away, looking at himself, then finally away. His body still beat, still breathed, wouldn't miss him for now. Why was his skin bright pink like that?

He stepped away, unable to feel the cold floor under his bare feet.

Kirk was laying back on his bed, wearing a pair of sweat pants and not a lot else.

Well, he knew what he wanted. The idea of mind-blowing sex followed by talking? That sounded like a plan.