Author's Notes: This is actually a segment of a story I wrote a long time ago. Though I won't be posting the longer version, I figured this part was too good just to leave on my computer. So enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek references, characters or situations.

It was a slow day in Ops. It was even slower in the Infirmary. Doctor Julian Bashir made this assumption based on the fact that there were no Klingons on Deep Space Nine at the moment. Well, none except the unusually docile Lieutenant-Commander Worf, who was on duty anyway.

It was so slow in fact that Bashir decided he could get away with punching off his shift early. He left one of his nurses in charge, which made her very happy as she never had that liberty before, and found himself walking to Quark's bar before he realized it. He didn't get the opportunity to drink his usual cup of Tarkalean tea that morning, because he overslept. He barely had time for breakfast and was found running into the Infirmary with a half-eaten scone hanging out of his mouth.

Therefore, when he entered the bar, he flagged down Broik and ordered a piping hot Tarkalean tea. Why he didn't just get it from the Replimat, he didn't know. Also, as a testament to the incredible service Quark's held up to, Broik delivered the tea before Bashir was even settled at the bar.

Even the bar itself was surprisingly quiet. Bashir brought the cup to his lips and first took a deep whiff of the sweet aroma, before taking a tender sip. It was as if time stood still for that brief instant. That was why Bashir loved Tarkalean tea.

The peace was not to last, however, when the owner of the establishment, Quark himself, decided to intrude on Bashir's privacy with his overly Ferengi personality. "Good afternoon, Doctor," he greeted, with his usual fake sincerity that made naïve patrons talk just a little too much. "You're off-duty a little early."

Bashir had long since learned how to ignore Quark's nosy inquiries and therefore did not answer. There was nothing wrong with taking off a little early if it was slow enough to do so. Besides, he left a capable nurse in charge of the Infirmary.

Quark, however, was also an experienced businessman and was too stubborn to admit defeat. When Bashir ignored him, Quark asked instead, "What are you up to for the rest of your afternoon?"

"I haven't given it much thought," Bashir answered truthfully. At that point, he just realized why he shouldn't have said anything.

For the Genetically Engineered human could almost see the gears of profit working away in his Ferengi bartender's head. Quark stood up a little straighter and looked at the doctor with what would have been taken as genuine curiosity by anyone who never knew Quark before.

Doctor Bashir knew, however, that the look was the same look a predator gives his prey just before the killing blow. "Well, I'm sure you know it's not so busy," Quark pointed out. "We have plenty of Holosuites available."

Quark knew what the best way to make profit off of someone was. With Morn, his best customer, it was to keep him watered with liquor for as long as he was on his usual chair. For Klingons, whenever they were on the Station and not in a holding cell for rough-housing, it was to keep his stocks as full with Blood Wine as possible. During the Cardassian and Dominion occupations, he always made sure to house plenty of Kanar.

With Bashir, it was a different matter. The good doctor rarely embellished with liquor, unless his friend Chief O'Brien was with him. In fact, even the Tarkalean tea was more than what he usually ordered at the bar. What he did enjoy were the Holosuites. Most of the programs Quark had that were not for 'personal pleasure' were from Bashir. Ever since he began doing business with his friend Felix, Bashir had rented a Holosuite at least once a week. When Keiko O'Brien was on Bajor, the Holosuite visits would increase to at least two a week when he and Chief O'Brien would spend most of that time fighting the Battle of Britain or the Alamo.

And even though Bashir never believed in Fate or luck, to which he could prove was illogical by a complex series of mathematical equations, he did somehow think his mind may have inadvertently wanted to go to the Holosuite, hence his coming to Quark's.

He put down his tea and said, "You know, I think a trip to Vic's would actually be a good idea."

Looking very much like a lion who just took down a gazelle, Quark reached behind his bar and took out a long, thin computer chip with the requested Holosuite program on it. He replied, handing it to Bashir, "A good choice. I'll add it to your tab."

"How thoughtful of you," Bashir smirked, sarcastically, and got out of his chair.

"Don't mention it."