Embarrassing one's child was one of very few of a mother's guilty pleasures in life, even if said child was a grown man now. For Mila Garak, this particular guilty pleasure was even rarer since she had seen so little of her son since his exile from Cardassia.

And embarrassed was exactly what he should be, torturing his mother by showing up on her doorstep, looking for room and board with a comrade who could be only described as the stuff of which a Cardassian woman's dreams were made. Well, anyone's dreams really.

Everything about Legate, turned Resistance Leader Damar begged "yes, the master bedroom suite is upstairs, down the hall, and to the left." Bedroom eyes, bedroom voice, and an ass that beckoned to her like a moth to a flame. And to make her lust fueled daydreams even more dire and irresistible was the man's personal charisma and magnetism. The sheer body language of the man alone was enough to dissolve the older Cardassian female in a smoldering heap of hormones.

If I were 30 years younger… the things I'd do to that man…, she smirked to herself as she loaded food onto plates and prepared to carry them down to the cellar to her three stowaways.

And maybe even if I'm not 30 years younger…, she mused. Some men liked older women so Mila hadn't counted herself out yet. Mila had never been a timid woman. She spoke her mind and welcomed the same in return. It had been a quality that had earned her the attention of one Enabran Tain of the Obsidian Order. Tain, who being head of the Obsidian Order, had not been able to marry her or claim their son, Elim.

Carrying the plates downstairs, Mila fought back the almost irrepressible smile of anticipation. She felt like a young woman in love again, gleefully anticipating seeing the object to her affections. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to feel young and alive again.

Her light blue eyes met Damar's briefly, but the opportunity had not yet presented itself so she said nothing as she set his plate down in front of him.

Soon though. Soon…

"You've hardly touched your meal!" Mila admonished her son as she peered at him in just the same she had when he'd been sick as a child. "No wonder you're not looking well."

Annoyed at being pestered while working, Elim Garak tensed up in irritation. "I'm not looking well because I live in a cellar." Claustrophobic, Garak felt suffocated spending most of his time in the cellar. It wasn't extremely small, but there was little privacy when he shared the space with Damar and Kira. If only it were safe for a walk outside once in a while.

"Well so does Legate Damar," Mila continued, tuning out Garak's disrespectful tone of voice with years of patient practice.

"And what about him?"

"He's finished everything on his plate; which explains why he is such a fine, handsome figure of a man."

Garak's face contorted in a painful grimace of unbridled horror and revulsion at his mother's admission and inside, Mila's spirit soared with glee. It was somehow a universal constant that it was never acceptable for a man's mother to admit an attraction to any of her son's friends. Garak pretended not to understand.

"Oh I'm afraid I don't follow you," he said, hoping she'd drop the whole embarrassing conversation. It was Kira though, that dashed the former spy's hopes.

"I do. Mila, I believe you're falling in love."

"Oh, I'm old enough to be his mother," Mila said in a self deprecating way, but really she was just casting another line in her "fishing" expedition.

Damar popped the last vegetable in his mouth and smiled warmly. "Nonsense," he reassured the older woman in that charming way he had.

"Politicians," Mila said with amusement as her gaze locked on Damar and held for a long moment. He returned the look unflinchingly and with a sincerity that hope fluttered in Mila. She made no effort to hide the look of unapologetic lust on her face. She was a straightforward woman and with it all out on the table now, she had nothing to lose. Perhaps something would come of it.

Mila Garak was a thirsty woman and she wanted to get her hands on Damar. Every inch of him.