Leonard McCoy is looking at his reflection in a mirror and continues to fuss with his dress uniform. Do I look fat in this? He asks himself, smoothing the front of the shirt near his stomach. Leonard turns sideways and notices the slight bulge protruding from his stomach. Sighing, he walks away from the mirror and fiddles with the collar. I'm strangling in the damn thing.
The Sickbay door whooshes open. Jim and Spock walk in, conversing with each other concerning the upcoming diplomatic meeting in a few minutes. Jim stops short when he sees McCoy almost choking himself, adjusting the collar.
"Bones? Really? Dressing up will not kill you," Jim commented as he checked himself in the mirror.
Spock clasps his hands behind his back and says nothing.
"God damn monkey suits, Jim. Why can't Starfleet make them comfortable?" Leonard complains, having given up on adjusting his collar.
"We don't wear them often, Bones. You can survive wearing yours for the next few hours," Jim responds while shrugging.
Spock notices something is missing on McCoy's shirt. "Doctor, your medals of honor are not pinned onto your shirt. Shall I retrieve them for you? I believe you keep them in your office?"
"Oh great! Now, I have to wear ornaments as well," Leonard groaned.
"Ornaments, Doctor?" Spock questioned.
"I'm going to look like some outlandish Christmas tree," Leonard complains even more.
Spock raises his right eyebrow and goes to retrieve the medals. He returns and carefully pins them onto McCoy's shirt. "Adequate."
"Looking good, Bones." Jim smiles.
All three leave to meet with the diplomats.
Three hours later, McCoy returns and looks in the mirror again. There's evidence of several shades of lipstick on his cheeks. I love these uniforms.