[action spam]
[McCoy was feeling irate as he walked down the halls, the sort of mood that would clear his staff back on the Enterprise from his path as they all well knew his moods enough to keep from confrontation. All besides Christine and M'Benga- hell, he missed them. Martha and Peter were great, god sent coworkers, but he missed the quiet efficiency of the Sick Bay in emergencies, of drilled in responses when disaster arose.
The reflection didn't help his mood much and he pushed his way into the pub, heading to the bar. He was still bone tired but the worst of it had passed, from himself and others if the journals were any indication. Patients were slowly beginning to filter out and everything was coming together much more peacefully than he could have hoped. He sighed and picked up the vodka bottle, thinking to Chekov- wherever the hell the poor kid was. With a snort he poured himself a shot and held it up in silent toast.]
To the Enterprise. [He said to no one in particular and downed the shot.]