Pockets
The Doctor still wasn't used to the green glow of the cargo bay, or Voyager's newest member, now clad in silver dermoplastic instead of Borg exo-armor.
Still, he had a job to do. And he would do it.
"I took the liberty of designing some casual attire as well," he explained to Seven of Nine, "if and when you need them-"
A wide-eyed Cardassian tailor crashed through the doors. "Oh no, this is terrible!" He glanced at Seven. "And this poor living creature needs to breathe!"
The Doctor huffed. "We'll, it's not MY fault, Garak. I TOLD all of them- I'm a doctor, not a tailor!"