( Jim doesn't have to spell it out for him. Most of those he's met thus far seem relieved to have a doctor aboard, but there's a strong chance they could be outliers. Four months is long enough for someone to get precious, even territorial, about the infirmary or whatever niche they've come to occupy on the station, and he's bracing for the inevitable pushback.

Bones meets his flat stare with an expression of mild- if lightly exasperated -acquiescence: I'll be a team player.

He proceeds to make a face at the sight of that scar, brows knitting like a dark line of thunderclouds over his eyes. Where the Hell did he get that?

Listening, while he not-so-covertly turns that look at Jim's shoulder into almost a full body checkup, tricorder and reader humming away, Bones saves his questions for the end. )

With someone. No one else was there though, lucky for them.

( He lowers the reader, grumbling to himself, and gestures that Jim can get his sweater back on while he puts his tools aside. )

Whole place sounds like it's a hair from rattling apart. What do you think about our host? On the level, or full of shit?