Her Favorite Things
Buffy approached the last remaining package on the table with some caution. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust
Worf. They’d come to a surprisingly pleasant place of mutual respect for each other. If they hadn’t, he surely wouldn’t have participated in the birthday celebration Data had organized for her. But he had different ideas than most about what constituted dangerous, and he was well aware she could handle most anything he might throw at her- whether speaking figuratively or literally.
And yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was fond of Worf just as he was. She wouldn’t change him for all the worlds of her new reality, any more than she would change Data. It was slightly ironic that her best friends among the Enterprise
officers were not human.
She knew the captain was slightly surprised she wasn’t on better terms with Counselor Troi or Dr. Crusher, but she’d never managed to get over her distrust of the medical profession. Both women were professionals of the highest caliber, though, and Buffy had already found out that there was no one she’d rather have than Crusher if a doctor was absolutely necessary.
Guinan, on the other hand, was nothing short of a godsend, and not just for her extensive knowledge of the best desserts and drinks the universe had to offer. She wondered if Guinan had given Data a helping hand in picking the boots. Data tried, but he never quite managed to develop an eye for fashion. He was, however, the most patient male she’d ever encountered when it came to shopping.
Buffy eyed Worf’s unusually shaped package, as well as the wrapping paper he must have replicated especially for the purpose. She really doubted any gift shops made it a practice to stock glossy black. The silver ribbon she suspected was someone else’s suggestion, and probably the only advice Worf had accepted.
As she finally liberated the contents from their wrapping, she gasped in astonishment. It was a bat’leth. Worf had been teaching her to use on during their holodeck training sessions, but until now, she’d always used one provided by the holodeck, or on a few memorable occasions, Worf’s own.
Picking it up, she discovered it fit her hands perfectly- he must have found her measurements somehow. She suspected perhaps some clever programming of the holodeck. The weight was the same as Worf’s, but distributed differently, so that the balance worked for someone her size instead of the more usual Klingon height range. In other words, it was custom made.
She grinned. How had Worf guessed that aside from shoes, weapons were her favorite present?
“Thank you, Worf. This is really special.”
“I have gotten Captain Picard’s approval for you to keep it in your quarters,” Worf told her, pleased. “Normally weapons other than Starfleet issue are not permitted.”
“That makes it even more special,” Buffy said, making a mental note to fess up to the Captain and Worf at the earliest non-party opportunity. She had a minor arsenal in her quarters she hadn’t realized was prohibited.