Quark placed three glasses on the bar.

"So, who won?" he asked, as he poured three drinks from three separate bottles.

The Klingon's silence was deafening.

After an awkward moment, the Klingon reached for his glass.

"Morn … is a very worthy opponent," Worf finally growled. He lifted his glass of prune juice as a silent toast, took a quick gulp, and then firmly placed the glass back on the bar.

"You mean, he won." Quark's snaggletooth grin was brave. "Again."

Morn shook his elongated head, gently. His face pleaded, begged for silence. There was a tiny hint of fear visible in his eyes, and his small ears - perched near the top of his balding head - seemed to wiggle just a little.

Worf began to growl, from deep within, as if trying to control a primal urge. Finally, he grumbled, in a low voice. "I should have known that I could not trust you … to be discreet."

By the time Jadzia made her way back to the bar, it was clear that someone had made a scene. A big scene. Quark shooed away the security officer on duty, refusing to press charges. A half dozen patrons stood by the door, waiting to reenter the bar. A crowd began to gather behind them in the promenade, trying to get a peek inside. A small army of Ferengi waiters were picking up and wiping down the barstools scattered around the front of the bar. Quark's brother Rom picked up the larger shards of glass from the floor, while a crouching Broink cleaned up the smaller bits and pieces from the mess Rom left behind.

"What's happened?" the Lieutenant asked, as she needled her way through the crowd. Lt. Commander Worf seemed more uncomfortable than usual. Quark saw his opening, so he chimed in.

"It was Morn. He threw another one of his tantrums." Quark pulled down a tall, thin fluted glass from the shelf, and began to pour a drink for the Lieutenant.

"Morn?" Jadzia asked, surprised, as she took a seat at the bar. "That's the third tantrum this month!"

"Tell me about it!" Quark replied, as he typed up a list of damages on his pad.

"Well, Quark, you don't seem all that upset about it."

"It's ok. I'll just add the damages to his monthly bar tab." The Ferengi smiled. "Anyway, whatever Morn does, he's always good for business. Just look at how many customers this one tantrum alone will bring in."

Worf still looked uncomfortable.

"Worf, you didn't threaten him again, did you?" Jadzia was teasing him.

"I did no such thing." Worf replied, indignantly.

"No, he just told Morn he couldn't be trusted with a secret."

"Worf!" Jadzia scolded the Klingon. From anyone other than Dax it would have been a great dishonor.

"Well, I've never seen him so upset before," Quark added with an uncharacteristic Hu-manitarian tone in his voice. "But, I really can't blame him. He feels…unloved."

"Unloved? Morn?" Jadzia was surprised at the very thought of it.

"Yes! Unloved!" Quark reply shot across the bar. After a moment of silence, he continued. "The Ferengi, well, we're used to people not trusting us."

"With good reason!" Worf barked.

"We're a very misunderstood species." Quark glared at the Klingon. Then, his tone turned serious. Concerned. "But Morn isn't a Ferengi… No, he's quite emotional. Erratic. But also fragile."

"Morn is not fragile." Worf said, almost defensively. Acknowledging that he was fragile would call his own ability as a warrior into doubt.

"He's… sensitive." Jadzia added gently. She gazed into her glass, as if reminiscing about Morn.

"Sensitive?" Worf was shocked at the word.

"Yes. Sensitive." Quark agreed. "And what you just saw was a crushed, dejected Lurian tearing apart my bar! He'll probably spend the rest of the evening crying in his quarters. Alone."

"Someone should check on him," Jadzia noted.

"He'll get over it." Again, the Klingon was unconvinced.

"He might get over it, but I may not. Look! I can't believe it… Profits are already down 40% since he's left!" Quark's eyes were fixed on his pad. Then, as if snapped back into reality, Quark made a quick, nodding motion to Broink, who immediately began letting customers back in the door.

Dax turned her back to the Ferengi, who was now distracted by his spreadsheets. Worf turned around, with her.

"Worf, you really hurt his feelings," Jadzia said, in a low voice as she tried not to embarrass him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you broke Morn's hearts."

"I disagree." Worf's upper lip curled into a slight snarl.

"I think you should apologize. It is the honorable thing to do."

"Apologize?" Worf's tone made it sound like a statement, but he was – in his own way – asking for Dax's advice. Jadzia understood. But even more, Curzon - the Dax symbiont's previous host - understood Worf's problem with apologies.

"Worf, you should make him feel like a … friend… not just another resident alien on the station. Treat him like a confidant. Confide in him."

"Confide in him," Worf repeated, unconvinced.

"You really have no choice, Worf," she said, with a subtle shrug. "It is the honorable thing to do."