video;

[parricida]

[Hey, it's Garak! Looking, admittedly, not quite his best-- his hair is tremendously mussed, sticking up a little and far too long, and is that blood smeared on his neck? No. That can't be-- that's probably not blood. Probably not.

Anyway. It's Garak, sitting in his ship, smiling at the camera.]

Now. Despite our recent opportunities on these three moons, some rather lovely ladies have reminded me that one can't always have the clothes one wants. And with some new fabric in my possession, I thought I too might offer my services to the fleet.

I'm a tailor by trade-- a very good tailor, in fact. If you, like myself, are getting rather tired of Floot Loops clothes, send me a message, and I may be able to help you.

Comments

[parricida]

[Well, that's all right! Garak begins going through his purchases. Almost absently:]

You know, I was thinking lately: those scars on your hand . . . you know, garrotting leaves such noticeable scars on one's hands. They're really quite distinctive; once you know them, you can't help but notice them on another's hand. Fortunately, Cardassian skin is a bit thicker, and I never particularly indulged in the hobby-- not more than once or twice, anyway.

[mortalcoil]

[he's good at keeping his thoughts off of his face, but he's still got his little tells.

the only change is his fingers curling up into loose fists at his side--reflexively covering as many of the scars as he can without much effort. just a reaction to a light being shined onto one often-overlooked weak point.]

[parricida]

Now, now. They're there whether or not you cover them up.

[He glances up and smiles brightly at him.]

If it helps, though, I do believe most people wouldn't truly recognize them for what they are.

[mortalcoil]

[he nods in agreement, because yeah, they don't.

'Only t-a-i-l-o-r-s,' he signs, with the second word helpfully spelled out.]

[parricida]

Ah, well, you have quite a few interesting clients when one tailors. Assassins, politicians, particularly interesting captains, so on and so forth.

[He smiles up at him.]

Do try and stick to poison, hm? Your poor hands can't take much more.

[mortalcoil]

[he doesn't smile, because he never smiles. but there is a lift to his expression, and a very subtle look of pride in there.

one eyebrow arches a little, and he gives a sharp little jab of his finger in Garak's direction, and he gestures at all that blood again.

maybe the tailor should take some of his own advice.]

[parricida]

Mm, well, I've been . . . overindulging, shall we say.

[His own smile-- and when doesn't Garak smile-- turns sharper, meaner, but it's not directed at Coil. Simply a shared smile, something between two predators.]

[mortalcoil]

[and that, either fortunately or unfortunately, is something that Coil doesn't get very often. sure, both him and Zhas share the hunt when it comes to vampires, but they've always differed in opinion when it came to anything beyond that. Zhas has strict rules about things that Coil has never truly agreed with.

so, seeing some of those things maybe reflected in someone else is strangely comforting. sure, he feels less safe around Garak now, but it's more honest.

he nods, a little, lacking any of the surprise or disapproval that any decent person would have shown.]

[parricida]

And yourself? Have you been hunting bounty as well?

[mortalcoil]

[a decisive little nod. this might be another thing that he's taking quiet pride in.]