For months now, Damar had watched Kira Nerys. Now, holed up in Mila's basement on Cardassia Prime, he had little to do but watch her.
While on Terok Nor, they had been like two territorial vole cats - sparring at any opportunity. Since joining together in the Cardassian resistance, that white-hot anger had transmuted into something else entirely, at least on his part.
Even when she ate, she looked fierce. She speared her food like a fisherman harpooning a sea creature. When she heard a creaking floorboard, or a knock at the door, her head snapped upward, lightning-fast. Damar was fascinated by even these tiny movements. She reminded him of a Lakarian sea-cat - pale, slender, with animal reflexes. So he sat in the shadows as he watched, so that Kira could not see his eyes following her every movement.
When he had been a young man, he had met Cardassian officers who had returned from the Bajoran occupation. He had scoffed at their stories about the Bajoran woman; the stories that painted them as irresistable succubi, their ferocity disguised by a deceptively delicate physique.
Now, he understood. Perhaps the Bajorans were not succubi, but if Kira was anything to go by, they were fascinating - stubborn, hot tempered, passionate, demanding.
Nothing like a Cardassian woman. Cardassian women prided themselves on their scientific, calculating, dispassionate personalities. Cardassian women behaved according to strict rules of propriety - from dress, to hairstyle, to the way they spoke in public.
They, for instance, would never be caught sleeping in a room with two unwed males. They certainly wouldn't sprawl out over the floor - as she did - in a pants and a sweat-soaked singlet. They would not lead a resistance cell, build homemade bombs, and swear like a war-weary glinn.
A Cardassian woman would not have beaten him into unconsciousness. Damar recalled - in retrospect, with some amusement - how he had grabbed Ziyal's arm and tried to drag her out of a cargo bay on Terok Nor; how Kira had knocked him to the floor with a few well-aimed strikes, and left him there while whisking Ziyal out.
On Terok Nor, Damar had never understood Dukat's fascination with Kira. He did now.
He wondered what it would be like to take a woman like that to his bed. A woman whose fires perpetually burned, and did not need the aid of kanar to fuel any of her passion.
"Quit staring at me, Damar. You're making me lose my appetite," Kira snapped.
He jumped, and lowered his eyes with embarrassment. So much for hiding in the shadows. Not for the first time, he was glad that he didn't visibly flush, as Bajorans and humans did.
She loathed him. And, though he hated to admit it, it caused him a thread of hurt. He wanted her to admire him. To like him, even a little bit.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Garak watching him. Garak had a knowing smirk on his face.
Damar knew he had been too open in his gaze.
He tore his eyes away from Kira. She was meant for the shapeshifter, and these predatory thoughts would do no-one good. It was best to think of her as a comrade. To ignore the feminine body and voice, and compartmentalize her into the same category as Garak or Rusot.
For now, at least. Perhaps after the war, he could think of her as something else. After all, who knew what would happen to her and the shapeshifter? Who knew what would happen to any of them?
Yes, for now he had to plan for Cardassia's future. But he could always nurse hope for his own.
He grabbed a PADD. "Garak, Kira. We should begin planning our attack on Central Command."