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]

Oh, I'm hardly hiding! Simply practicing relaxing.

[aberrant_type]

With all the blood? [Her tone's mellow, but she's clearly not buying it.] Mind if I take a look at that?

[parricida]

If you'd like. It's not mine, though.

[aberrant_type]

[She steps back and makes a small gesture, indicating he should stand.]

Well! Let's get it cleaned up, and then maybe you can tell me whose it is.

[parricida]

Oh, a bounty. Do you often clean up after your charges, or am I special?

[Still, he gets to his feet fluidly, his head tipping to the side.]

[aberrant_type]

[Ah, she misses her soldiers at home. She knew she could turn her back on them.]

Oh, I do a fair amount of it. [That said neutrally.] Let's go to the lab. Before you get skittish on me, it doubles as an infirmary.

[parricida]

So long as you don't stick anything in me, Captain. Though this is something more solve by a shower than a trip to the lab.

[aberrant_type]

No sticking involved, I promise.

[She doesn't comment on the shower thing, mostly because she doesn't entirely trust he's being truthful. She'd rather check him out herself and judge.

So she takes his shoulder and tries to draw him up - gently.]

So. What happened to the bounty?