McCoy heard the door slide open behind him, and Kirk walked onto his balcony carrying a glass in each hand. He parked them on a table between the chairs and shoved the door shut with his foot. Kirk fell into his chair with a sigh. McCoy lifted a glass toward his host and said, "Cheers."
"Cheers," replied the other, and slung back the whiskey. His glass clicked on the table as he set it down.
"I've always liked this apartment, Jim."
"Really? Don't think you've been here all that often, have you? I know *I* haven't been here that often."
"It's always seemed very serene to me, looking out over the city. So full of history, of life. Beautiful view. Nice sky," he said, gesturing with his glass.
"True enough--I know when I first saw it, I thought it was the next best thing to living on top of a mountain. Being up so high--seeing clouds not too far above, that sort of thing."
"Oh, I suppose that's the flatlander in you that's talking. You mostly lived in flatter areas, in Iowa and then in the Academy neighborhood, right?"
"That's true. You never saw my first apartment in the city, did you--it was over near the Golden Gate Park, in a pretty flat neighborhood. I couldn't afford to live on the heights, and it was too far from the Academy anyway. You know, my parents used to kid me that going to the Academy and into space was my way of getting a bird's eye view. I always did wish I was taller . . . "