"…It's very simple," Garak said, stepping towards Bashir. They were in sickbay, alone, and Bashir was trying to ignore Garak's melodic voice with waning success. "I just have a problem that I need your help with, at fourteen hundred hours at docking station three. I'm just meeting someone—it won't take much time at all, really."

Bashir looked up from the padd he was working on, and leveled a cold glare at his sometimes-lunch date. "And who is it that you're going to be meeting with?"

"Oh, a friend." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I can't say anymore here, of course."

Bashir sighed. "Garak, I don't have time for one of your little games," he said wearily.

"Games?" Garak said, looking genuinely offended. "I am being quite serious!"

"Of course you are. Now, unless you have a medical complaint, then I'm afraid I've got to get back to work."

Now it was Garak's turn to sigh as Bashir brushed past. "Fine, if you're set on playing doctor, let's play doctor." As Bashir passed he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to a biobed.

"Garak! Let go!" Bashir shouted indignantly, but Garak was quite strong and easily flipped him so that suddenly he was lying on the biobed with Bashir straddling him.

"Garak! What the hell are you—!" He shouted, as Garak pulled Bashir's hand to his neck, but what he felt there made him freeze. "Garak—"

"Still here, doctor," Garak said pleasantly. "You don't have to start every sentence with my name."

"But you're—your pulse is through the roof." Bashir changed instantly from aggravated friend to concerned doctor, taking out his tricorder and taking some readings as he looked in Garak's eyes and mouth. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to worry you, of course. But I do think that at fourteen hundred hours you should—"

"Julian, I've got a—WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

This outburst came from O'Brien, who stood speechless in the doorway to the sickbay. His hand was bleeding, but that seemed to be the least of his worries at the moment. It was only then that Bashir remembered the compromising situation he was in. He leapt off Garak with such energy that he almost broke his neck. Garak merely slithered off the biobed and adjusted his tunic with an air of superiority.

"I was just—Garak was—" Bashir stammered until O'Brien cut him off.

"Oh, no need to explain, Julian," O'Brien said. "I'll just wait outside, shall I? I think that would be better than being scarred for life!"

Bashir gulped air like a fish out of water. "I—just hold on a second, I'll see to your hand once I've finished figuring out what's wrong with Garak—"

"You've done quite enough already, Doctor, thank you," Garak said. He was already heading towards the door.

"W-Wait, hold on!" Bashir glanced at O'Brien, who was still fuming at him, and gave him a nervous smile. Then he chased after Garak as he left the infirmary, tricorder at the ready. "Get back here, your pulse is much too high—"

"Is it?" Garak said, all smiles. He reached out and gently closed Bashir's tricorder, pushing him back until he was against the wall. "Perhaps it was the close proximity of such a fine human specimen that got me 'worked up.'"

"This is serious! I don't know what that means in Cardassian physiology but I'm fairly certain it's nothing good."

"Well, perhaps it would have made more sense if you agreed to come with me to the docking station at fourteen hundred hours. But I see you're much too busy to assist a silly old Cardassian. I do trust that you will keep what I said under strict doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Garak!" Bashir pushed away from the wall, but Garak just used his momentum to push himself away, and he headed back down the hallway. Bashir grumbled. "Look, if you need help—"

"Oh, no need doctor, no need!" Garak called. "I'm sure I can handle this little problem myself. Forget it."

And Garak left Bashir standing there with a confused expression and an annoyed O'Brien shouting at him from behind.