Enterprise — Mess Hall
The ship's cantankerous CMO flopped into the mess hall chair and began a serious observation of the overflowing tray in front of him.
Where to start, he considered.
Picking up his fork with the skilled hands of a surgeon he started on his left, having chosen a directional approach to the mountain of food in front of him. He barely noticed when James Kirk, his commanding officer — and friend — joined him.
"You don't really mean to eat all of that, do you?" Kirk asked. Jim knew the answer. He also knew the ritual remained part of their friendship since their Academy roommate days. A younger Kirk often witnessed an older McCoy consuming in Klingon proportions what passed for food at their alma mater.
"You are a truly alien species, Doctor. Your stomach is bigger than the body carrying it around."
"Ghmmmh" McCoy mumbled back.
Practice told Jim that McCoy wished him a journey to a hot place. Ritual completed, Kirk started in on his own much smaller meal. Conversation began once McCoy had downed roughly a third of his food. The friends discussed:
• Kirk's recent visit to Andor: McCoy — "Did you find someone...compatible?"
• McCoy's recent medical conference: Kirk — "Do you have anything that makes that Andorian rash thing itch less?"
• Carol Marcus: McCoy — "Is she still pissed off at you?"
• Shore leave: Kirk — "Got out of the dog house then she found out I went to Andor."
Kirk unexpectedly rose from the table, half his rations uneaten. Clearing his tray quickly, he sent a hasty goodbye and apology in Bones' direction.
"Where's the fire?" McCoy shouted to his back.
"Gotta go. Got a playdate." Kirk replied. With that, the Mess Hall doors closed on the Captain's rushed exit.
Returning to his still impressive pile of food, Bones shook his head and smiled at the thought that Jim Kirk was infatuated with a 4-year-old kid.