This is certainly not the coldest that James T. Kirk has ever been, not by a long shot. In his youth he would've handled this just fine with warm clothes and staying on his feet, but he's no young man anymore, and the warmth of the fire is welcome. Even moreso because it means Spock will be more comfortable, the elderly Vulcan's tolerance for the cold even lower than his own.

Even so, he's bundled up in a wool coat over a flannel shirt, a knit hat pulled down over his ears, his gloves shoved into his pockets so he has his hands free to eat and sip at hot cider. It's rather like exploring an alien world, seeing the unfamiliar decorations and motifs invoking gods unknown to him, an odd sort of blend of Earth traditions and something distinctly Other.