[ He's been making a point of wearing his uniform lately, solely to stand out in case he happens upon any more of his crew like he did with Chekov or Uhura. It doesn't seem impossible and after trying to figure out just who is running the city, Jim's worn out from having been a reluctant social butterfly. It's cooler in the middle of the large main streets, raking through his hair to let the breeze touch his skin.

After a recent argument, he's fallen into the habit of trying to get in touch with Leonard time and again to no avail. Frankly, Jim's sick to death (argh) of being ignored. ]

Bones. Bones! God damn it, will you pick up? [ Not bothering to keep his voice down, he keeps trying to get through on the city-net device where he plants his feet and adjusts the signal. ] Ancient hunk of junk ... Bones, I told you to keep an open channel at all times! Gah.