( His brows narrow under the brim of his knitted toque, her irreverence so much like Jim that a jolt of warm familiarity follows it, immediate like and exasperation all in one.

Good Lord, well, that's as good a reason as any to look like Hell. McCoy sucks in a breath between his teeth. )

Always good advice, ( he concedes, and starts retracing his steps back to the road toward her, ) I'm Doctor McCoy, Miss. You mind helpin' me fulfill my medical oaths and seeing you home safe? I don't gotta be psychic to tell you shouldn't be walkin anymore on that leg.