Bond's smile was very slight, just a faint curve of his mouth, but it conveyed humor readily enough. Not genuine, he saw little enough to laugh at in their current predicament, but it was a near enough facsimile to fool all but the most observant. "Yes, I suppose it is." He took a seat, subconsciously angling himself so he could still see a decent percentage of the room.

It was a pity, he reflected. Except for the apparently genuine belief that they could possibly be on another planet, Chekov seemed remarkably rational. It left him wondering if the younger man had actually been committed for some sort of mental illness, or if the fantasy was a method of coping with the circumstances. Either way, pressing the issue at the current point in time would benefit him nothing.

"I'd imagine he wouldn't," Bond said. "If yesterday's events are any indication, you'd be putting yourself at a great deal of risk, and wouldn't have the opportunity to gain much for it." A passing thought gave him pause, and after a few seconds of reflective silence, he added, "Is your Commander here, then?"