[He leans over again, but this time one hand goes around to the back of his waistband--look, Starfleet uniforms don't have pockets, where else is a captain supposed to keep things? He doesn't come up with the communicator he usually keeps there, or the phaser that sometimes joins it; instead he produces a small cow made out of terry cloth, white with black spots, each of its four flat feet a different color and texture, like for teething. And it's been obviously well loved.
He steals a sideways glance at McCoy like he's just waiting for his friend to say something about this as he tucks the toy up against the little girl's side.]
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[He leans over again, but this time one hand goes around to the back of his waistband--look, Starfleet uniforms don't have pockets, where else is a captain supposed to keep things? He doesn't come up with the communicator he usually keeps there, or the phaser that sometimes joins it; instead he produces a small cow made out of terry cloth, white with black spots, each of its four flat feet a different color and texture, like for teething. And it's been obviously well loved.
He steals a sideways glance at McCoy like he's just waiting for his friend to say something about this as he tucks the toy up against the little girl's side.]