The first thing Jim did with his afternoon to prove he wasn't a lab experiment or plastered against a wall after last night by being the exact image of Kirk when he first met him by being a pain, and yet, so Jim. McCoy's elation was short lived. Exasperation, the fond and resigned sort, set in. The child sized cymbals didn't make for a dignified look on the Captain, nor did Jim actually using them with plenty of enthusiasm. It reminded him vaguely of Joanna when she used to do something she knew would would get your attention in the most annoying way possible and most importantly, get attention.

Kirk had his attention. He would've had it just be virtue of being Jim and being alive and hopefully unharmed after last night. McCoy's eyebrow's furrowed as he frowned down at the cymbals.

"It's aggravating my head now. You mind?" McCoy groused. He studied the other man carefully, looking for any signs of injuries or tenderness. "I was looking for you and Uhura."