（ he doesn't knock it back, though the temptation is strong — instead, he mirrors bones' delicate drink. no tingle, good sign. he'd hate to make the good doctor work for a living. ）
So what were you up to, anyway?
（ people still have... you know, hobbies. presumably. jim's got a few dozen luxuriously bound paperbacks in his footlocker, moby dick at his bedside with a tattered piece of what bones might recognize as an old, old uniform as a bookmark. he reads, plays chess, plays squash, has taken up knitting (there is a half-finished sock on his bed, which is otherwise neatly made with crisp hospital corners) but sometimes the restless energy wins out.
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So what were you up to, anyway?
（ people still have... you know, hobbies. presumably. jim's got a few dozen luxuriously bound paperbacks in his footlocker, moby dick at his bedside with a tattered piece of what bones might recognize as an old, old uniform as a bookmark. he reads, plays chess, plays squash, has taken up knitting (there is a half-finished sock on his bed, which is otherwise neatly made with crisp hospital corners) but sometimes the restless energy wins out.
something, something, rats in a maze. ）