Kirk's eyebrows raised in a silent question when the guy took notice of him, although with a pen moustache and his head upside-down, the request of Could you please turn it down? probably wasn't as obvious as it could've been. Reluctantly, he forced himself up into a sitting position, feeling the blood rush strangely in his head.

"What?" Kirk squinted at him, wondering why he was asking. He'd looked younger staring slack-jawed and wrapped up in his game; now Jim reassessed the other man's age to a couple of years older, maybe even the same age as him. His face wasn't familiar, but then, to be fair, Kirk hadn't exactly had time to get acquainted with all four-hundred-plus people serving on the Enterprise.

He'd thought it strange that the only person who'd come here with him were members of the bridge crew. By now, he'd given up on calling for others on the bulletin board. Was it possible that this man came from the twenty-third century?

Or was it... the other thing? "That was me," Kirk answered. Only one way to find out, and right now he was beyond the point of caring if someone felt like telling him he was from a television show. "Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. You're familiar with the stardate system?"