All of Jim's outfits he keeps stored here are civilian clothes, but that's all right. He doesn't feel much like a Starfleet officer at the moment, let alone a captain, even less than he did when he was still in the hospital after the Vengeance incident. He stares down into the drawer at the folded shirts and pants, damn near overwhelmed by the choice, before he just reaches into the drawer and pulls out the first items that meet his outstretched hand. Black sweatpants, a soft cotton tee-shirt with the faded logo of the Academy command division across the chest. He hisses through his teeth when he raises his arm, pulling at the bite on his shoulder, slipping the soft material over the bandages.

He leaves his feet bare, and there's something weird about the varnished wood under his toes, like his body had forgotten how this is supposed to feel. His steps are hesitant as he follows Hunter back out into the main apartment, staring down at his feet. Not paws, no claws, the pads of his feet more sensitive now. Human.

He pauses for a moment at the kitchen, watching Hunter rummage through the refrigerator to find something for them to eat, before his gaze is drawn to the nearby cupboard, its door just like any other, but behind it... Jim opens the door and pulls out the small crate, setting it down on the counter and opening it up. Still almost full, only missing two, pilfered from his stash during the curse he'd endured... how long ago?

Doesn't matter. Still mostly full. Jim quickly counts them under his breath, making sure they're all there. Not compelled to eat any, just... look. Reassure himself that there's plenty here if he needs it.