It's easy to see that Hunter is taking this pretty hard, his attention on the looming shadow of loss. Jim sits close enough to hold the other man's hand in his own, and leafs through the papers to make sure there's nothing shady that Hunter might not notice in his grief.

The hardest part, he knows, is the disbelief. Even seeing it with your own eyes, the news is sudden enough, shocking enough, that it must feel like a nightmare that won't end. Jim had felt the same, when the attack on Headquarters had ended and he had seen Spock kneeling over the body of Admiral Pike. Impossible to believe that it was the same man who had been healthy and breathing mere minutes before, and yet, there he was, lifeless and staring into nothing. And sure, Pike wasn't his father, but he was the closest thing that Jim ever had. So he has at least some idea of how Hunter must feel right now.

There had been no words then, nothing that would have done anything to change what had happened. So he doesn't offer any, just sitting with Hunter, hand in hand.