Jim looked over his shoulder at her at what was, unmistakably, a serious threat. He knew Seven of Nine well enough to know that she wasn't joking around. If he didn't comply, she would tell Bones where he was--something he'd explicitly asked her not to do; something he'd asked as a friend and not the captain. He couldn't in good conscious exercise his power as captain and highest ranking Starfleet officer--he was even higher ranking than his father, who was only a Lieutenant...
Though there were obvious damp trails streaking down his cheeks from where tears he'd been unable to hold back had spilled free, the expression he wore was that of clear annoyance. If he were in the presence of any other person--save Bones and maybe Spock--he wouldn't have turned around or moved or done anything until he'd calmed down, not wanting anyone to see him like this. But, this was Seven and he knew that the former drone wasn't the type to gossip and go about telling the whole of Colligo how Captain James Tiberius Kirk had allowed himself to become emotionally compromised.
He wiped at his eyes and cheeks with the back of his hand and moved forward, taking the pills from her and dropping all three into his mouth, taking the glass and swallowing a gulp of the liquid to wash the pills down.
Happy? He would have quipped in that cocky tone of his if this were any other day, but as it were, he just wasn't in the mood for his own games.
"He died the day I was born," Jim found himself echoing. He stayed standing next to her, but looked down at his shoes. "I share birthday with his death day. There--"
Jim's voice cracked and he cut himself off, pursing his lips together, as he stubbornly tried to push back all that emotion--waves of sorrow, anger, hurt, and that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach due to his repressed fear of abandonment too strong for him to ignore entirely.
It was times like this that made Jim envious of Spock's ability to control his emotions.