It's funny how used to noise the human ear can be, until suddenly it's gone. The absence of the floor rumbling with the faint noise of warp engines stands out to Jim the moment he sets foot in the apartment, even moreso than the architecture and the blacked out windows, jarring like thinking there's one more step on a flight of stairs than there really is. He pauses a moment to get his bearings, the relative silence weighing down on him before he hears that familiar voice, and the set of his shoulders relaxes a fraction.

The newness of the chess set doesn't escape his notice, but he doesn't remark on it, either. Part of Operation Don't Ask is not poking at the obvious aftermath, too. "Coffee table's fine with me." He's still looking around a bit as he finds a comfortable spot to sit, though, taking note of the few personal touches sitting out in the open. It's damn near as sparsely decorated as his apartment back in San Francisco was, after he'd first moved in.