In spite of the potential danger of his situation, Kirk laughed. "'Military.' I wish some of my... superiors could hear you say that." He'd almost slipped with instructors instead, which would've sounded considerably less impressive. Sometimes he forgot that he hadn't even graduated yet, although to be fair, he was still a lot closer to a commissioned officer than he was a student. But such technical details weren't going to make anyone think twice before messing with him.
On the other hand, Kirk didn't mind letting himself seem a little less than formal. Somehow he couldn't see him as the stickler-for-the-rules type, even after ten years or however long McCoy's Kirk had been in Starfleet. Although maybe that Jim had the example of George Kirk to thank, or maybe ten years in command of 400-plus lives would change anybody.
Sometimes he wished Bones — Bones as he remembered him, no alternate timelines or brainwashing involved — was with him. One week in charge of three lives, one of which he'd just lost. Had that changed him at all? Only Bones would know him well enough to say.
Kirk looked at Zevran's smile again, and his alien-but-not-alien features. Enigmatic was the first word that came to mind, followed not-so-unexpectedly by... interesting. Dark and pale-haired and cheerful, where most Romulans (and Vulcans, at that) were pale and dark-haired and stern. Did he know the Federation, or didn't he? Kirk couldn't tell.
"So if I may ask, Mr. Zevran, where were you headed to?" He let the emphasis, and his friendly tone, convey that he'd stop prying if asked, but Kirk didn't bother masking his curiosity. He still had to get a read on this guy, and testing his boundaries was the only way to do it fast. "It's a little late in the night to be making a rendezvous."
no subject
On the other hand, Kirk didn't mind letting himself seem a little less than formal. Somehow he couldn't see him as the stickler-for-the-rules type, even after ten years or however long McCoy's Kirk had been in Starfleet. Although maybe that Jim had the example of George Kirk to thank, or maybe ten years in command of 400-plus lives would change anybody.
Sometimes he wished Bones — Bones as he remembered him, no alternate timelines or brainwashing involved — was with him. One week in charge of three lives, one of which he'd just lost. Had that changed him at all? Only Bones would know him well enough to say.
Kirk looked at Zevran's smile again, and his alien-but-not-alien features. Enigmatic was the first word that came to mind, followed not-so-unexpectedly by... interesting. Dark and pale-haired and cheerful, where most Romulans (and Vulcans, at that) were pale and dark-haired and stern. Did he know the Federation, or didn't he? Kirk couldn't tell.
"So if I may ask, Mr. Zevran, where were you headed to?" He let the emphasis, and his friendly tone, convey that he'd stop prying if asked, but Kirk didn't bother masking his curiosity. He still had to get a read on this guy, and testing his boundaries was the only way to do it fast. "It's a little late in the night to be making a rendezvous."