Leonard rolled his eyes. Sure, they had the numbers on their side but it really didn't make a damn bit of difference. "And yet they insist on acting like infants." Just look at Jim or Collins or even Sulu when he got a sword in his hands. Idiots, all of them.
Wincing sympathetically, Leonard sipped his drink. A day that required thinking on to decide on the worst bits was a bourbon-worthy day. (Even if he wasn't keen to see this particular bottle go.)
Then it happened. Chapel took a breath and then let it out-- all of it. (Which, blessedly, did not involve crying; McCoy did not handle crying women well.) And if he hadn't felt sympathetic before, he certainly did after her spiel. Because that whole thing was just... shitty.
"It's not crazy, Christine," Leonard told her when he was certain she was finished. (It wasn't often he used her given name but this seemed the time to.) "You didn't do anything wrong but that doesn't mean it wasn't an incredibly crappy situation." The right thing and the easy thing were rarely one in the same.
"You're right, though," McCoy continued, reaching across the table to pat her arm, "you will be fine." He had absolutely no doubts about that-- even if she couldn't see it quite yet.