Fleetingly and with an abandon which insinuates an attempted break of habit, Spock Prime’s fingertips brush a single strand of loose hair from a much younger, naïve Captain James T. Kirk. While such expressions of affection would be perceived wildly different should it be his younger counterpart conducting it, Jim hardly reacts to the gesture. Spock Prime had rambled through his mind, after all; what's with a barely-there touch to his forehead, miles of inches away from his psi points?
However, in such a setting as theirs, the action elicits a slightly more alarming reaction from the audience Spock Prime had inadvertently attracted by simply existing. Lieutenant Uhura of Communications, as excellent an example as always, intakes a sharp breath which alludes to the removal of the easy atmosphere that had once resided; this universe’s Spock - Jim’s Spock - loses the up-swept line of his eyebrows to the hairline behind his pencil-straight bangs. While a few other bridge officers are currently present, Jim’s attention focuses closer on the reactions of the former two; they’re the only ones he cares to note, if he’s being honest, in this situation.
“Reacquainting myself with you was certainly - as the doctor of perhaps both universes would say - a ‘breath of fresh air’. As you know, the Jim Kirk of my universe is-” The pause Spock Prime lapses in is both uncomfortably long and heavy, but he manages to continue after a moment. “-has been - out of commision - for several decades now.”
Jim hasn’t a clue how to respond other than to meet the Vulcan’s eyes head-on, and isn’t as shocked as he should be when he identifies a significant amount of grief glazing those dark eyes. Abruptly, those same wise eyes alight in a spark of mischief and amusement before turning on his younger counterpart. “As for you, I expect you to take particular precaution to prevent harm to Jim’s - the Captain’s person,” He corrects his lack of a title with a sheepish almost-smile. “I am not worried. I am sure you will take… special care of him.”
Something of a smirk passes over Spock Prime’s features, a not-there expression that is so obvious on the normally neutral face of the Vulcan. A muscle twitches in Spock’s - the one from this universe - jaw, and his eyebrows return to their position just above his eyes, slanting down in bafflement. “I’m unsure what you are implying-”
“I shall take my leave,” Spock Prime interrupts, a chord of finality in his words. He returns his eyes to Jim, full of an admiration and fondness he can’t seem to hide. He loosely grips Jim’s bicep. “Patience is likely in order. I am much more stubborn than I let on.” He states, and it’s obvious from his conceding tone that he is not, in fact, referring to himself, but more toward his younger counterpart. The not-smirk grows a bit, smug and all-knowing in a way that implies he knows something no one else does. “While I would delight in imparting more useful information about myself - some that would embarrass my younger counterpart - I cannot delay myself further. Although, upon return to New Vulcan, I will be abundantly quiescent and have in my possession several devices to which you can contact me.”
Before he leaves, he holds up his hand in a Ta’al, and leaves Spock and Jim justifiably puzzled and the latter of the two’s arm tingling from the contact of a touch telepath.