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Who: Elim Garak and YOU
Broadcast: Network wide at first; to the Red Fish ship afterwards
Action: In his room
When: December 28th

[A wholly pleasant smile appears on the network. While the face it's attached to is . . . reptilian, to say the least, at least the smile is friendly. Prominent ridges outline Garak's cheekbones and where a human's eyebrows would be; his black hair is neatly combed back from his face.]

I wonder . . . while the planet below is quite charming, I find myself rather disliking the temperature. And while I can amuse myself with embroidery, I find myself wanting nothing more than a good book. Do any of you have recommendations? I'm somewhat familiar with Terran literature; a friend of mine even says I have a favorite genre: realistic fiction, if that's any help.

My sincerest gratitude to any who might help.

[A beat. He cuts off the feed and adds to the members of the Red Fish:]

Coil. Might I ask you to stop by when you've a spare moment?

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Ah, well. I'm afraid I'll simply have to write to my cosmetician and tell them I'll no longer be purchasing their wares.

Will you take a seat? I'm afraid I can't take the scrutiny for much longer.

If you insist.

[and he does settle down and take a seat, though still isn't shy about eyeing Garak. he figures he's probably used to being stared at--and if he isn't, now is as good a time as any to start developing a tolerance.]

Though, I see that your early arrival has deprived me the chance of buying you a drink. I'll have to come up with some other opening gesture of good will, now.

[besides immediately insulting him upon first sight, anyway.]

Well, I shan't object if you'd like to buy me a second one. The gesture won't be lessened, I assure you.

What are you drinking, for future reference?

[and he squints a little at the glass in Garak's hands.]

No alcohol? [because he really can tell that from here.]

Edited 2015-01-04 07:34 (UTC)

[Quick as a flash his ridge raises.]

Now, how did you know I wasn't drinking alcohol, hm? Overly familiar with this bar, are we?

Oh, it's a little talent of mine.

[and he taps the side of his own nose, implying that he can smell it--even though that's not exactly truthful.]

How fascinating.

[He practically purrs the word out, but files that away for later-- whether or not it's true, however he knew about his drink is admirable.]

What other talents do you possess, hm?

Oh, that would be a very long list. ...And I wouldn't want to spoil all the surprises in one go.

[he nods at his glass again.]

And you still haven't answered my question about your drink.

Oh, a particularly sour blend. I find most human beverages far too cloying for my palate; what a human might call appallingly sour I find refreshing.

Oh, I see!

[he really is getting a kick out of the novelty of it all.]

And no alcohol? Is there a reason for that?

I simply thought it wise to keep my wits about me. After all, I'd hardly like to make a fool of myself in front of you on our first meeting.

[he makes like he's charmed--elbow propped on the edge so he can rest his chin on his hand.]

Oh, you aren't a lightweight, are you?

Hardly. But it wouldn't do for me to be even a bit tipsy right now, I think.

Well, I suppose I'll be flattered that you feel you should be so sharp around me.

If you do change your mind, let me know. ...Otherwise, sour drinks it is.

[and excuse him for just a moment while he orders something for himself-- alcoholic, light, and sweet.]

[He watches him over his drink, an indulgent little smile on his face. Why, Tek might be the most delightful person he's met so far-- so full of secrets, so very sharp and wry and full of danger. He's practically Cardassian.]

Now, tell me: have you found anything particularly interesting in your time here? About the fleet, I mean, not this planet.

[just wait until you see his face ridges.]

Oh... yes. I don't know how much of it is particularly useful yet, but certainly interesting.

[he takes a little sip of his drink, but it's mostly there for show. it's pretty clear that he doesn't actually care much about it.]

Aside from the more obvious aspects of our little prison, the most interesting is the fact that so many of its prisoners have gone through this sort of thing before.

Really. Now that is interesting-- about how many are we speaking of, precisely? Hundreds? Thousands?

[his eyebrows raise a little]

Haven't you looked? ...I would be surprised if there were forty of us. Likely less.

We are apparently a very selectively chosen little group.

[Oh, he has. But he'd rather hoped he was wrong, or simply using the communications device poorly. The fact that there's so few of them is disheartening.]

I suppose I ought to be flattered, and yet somehow I'm not.

I've been wondering what exactly it is that makes each one of us so appealing to the powers-that-be. And someone suggested that maybe the fact that we've been dragged away from home at least once already makes it easier for is to pull us here.

A plant that has been uprooted once is easier to transplant again, after all.

Very true. Has there been confirmation of that fact?

How would we confirm it for sure? No one answers our questions, and there's no way to run tests on the theory.

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WTF dw I replied to this

dw don't hate on lizards flirting

they're just speciesist!

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