After the effects of the drugs and alcohol had run their course, Q awoke in the middle of the night with an intense throbbing at his temples. Rolling over onto his side, his entire body protested, muscles aching painfully. Sitting up, he whimpered and groaned. "What the hell is wrong with this body now?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Q sighed in relief as he found the other side of his bed empty. Good, he did not need that woman here to remind him of the crime against omnipotent superiority he had just committed. He did not want to remember how he had just debased himself, and how in his weakened state he had actually enjoyed it. Moreover, in his distant subconscious, he did not want to be tempted again.

Weakened in his post-inebriated state, he half-stumbled, half-crawled to the balcony as quickly as possible since it was significantly closer than the bathroom. Hands clutching the balustrade to keep his body aloft, he dry-heaved in utter agony for what seemed like hours. Like a sneeze that diminishes before the climax, this dry-heaving effort left him empty and unfulfilled. How pointless.

Clenching his teeth to stabilize himself against the disorientation, Q shivered against the cold breeze sweeping across the terrace, flinging specks of rain in his face. He closed his eyes until his skin detected that the gust had passed, and reopened his eyes to be confronted with a sudden brightness in the night sky. The sickly clouds of pollution that usually obstructed all vision of the outside universe had parted, exposing a section of black sky dotted with glinting stars. He smiled bitterly. He knew those stars well, distant memories flooding back to him. In some stroke of irony, he could even make out Earth's dim star hidden behind the wispy tentacle of a cirrus, taunting him.

The skin on his upper left arm tingled, and Q looked on in surprise as the fingers of his right hand quickly moved to scratch at the nuisance through no effort of his own. The itching sensation was instantly squelched. He frowned at the casual action. Although he was sure that he had preformed similar reflexes in the past weeks of his human life, this was the first time he had taken notice.

Q cast another glance at the overcast night sky before padding back to his bed.

* * *

The metal spoon clanked against the side of Shien's ceramic mug as he stirred his morning coffee. The women had left in the middle of the night, fleeing like ghosts at the sight of sunlight, apparently.

He made out the sound of movement inside Q's room as the other man woke up after a long night. At the thought, Shien scowled and the spoon clanked louder. He crumbled a cube of pure Yalotta spice into his drink.

The door to Q's room opened and the bedraggled human stumbled out, his robe tightly wrapped around his tall form protectively. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes in a daze and announced, "I feel terrible."

Shien mentally forced the jealous glare to slowly dissipate from his face. "That's your body telling you that you enjoyed yourself a little too much last night."

"Hmph. If that is considered enjoyment..." He trailed off and licked his dried lips. "I'm thirsty."

Q looked around the kitchen for a moment and instantly spotted a mug of liquid in front of Shien. Perfect, he needed to wake up. Without asking as usual, he snatched the coffee and downed it in three gulps.

Shien flinched, his mouth twisted in an uncomfortable grimace as he watched Q consume an entire gram of pure Yalotta spice in one sitting. "Uhm."

The human set the empty container down, oblivious, and sighed. "I needed that."

"Uhm, Q..."

"Last night was horrendous, and I'm holding you entirely responsible." He opened and closed the cupboards absently. "Good will notwithstanding, your friends are coercive perverts. I'm just glad I don't remember most of--" Q cut himself off and frowned, feeling his mind fog over. A familiar sensation he had felt when...he slowly turned toward Shien.

"Q, there was Yalotta spice in that coffee."

"You tried to drug me? Again?"

"Q, that was my coffee!"

"You purposely...set it out there..." He swayed slightly and supported his weight on the counter. "...for me to drink!"

"Now even in this state, you should know that's bullshit," Shien said mildly as he took Q by the shoulders and guided him the couch. The human protested slightly but quickly acquiesced.

"It wasn't so much bullshit last night," Q said.

Shien spun towards him. "What do you mean by that?"

Q smirked at the response. "I could have sworn you were attempting to take...advantage of me."

"You must have misinterpreted my actions. I had as much to drink as you." He immediately felt guilty for lying to Q, but what could he say? Was he to outright admit that the only way he could convince people to sleep with him was through inebriation?

"Hm. Surely you must have an antidote!"

"An antidote? Even if there were such a thing, why would I, of all people, carry it around with me?"

"What? I suppose--" Q stared at the ceiling, which appeared to move on its own even when he kept his eyes stationary. "What were we talking about?"

Shien smiled, leaving the room. "I'll have to contact Dren. I don't think you'll be fit to practice martial arts today."

The comment was only acknowledged with an indifferent "hmph" from the relaxed human lounging on the furniture. At that moment, Q did not feel anything except warm contentment. He smiled. As he mentally floated in the wonderful limbo between idiotically inebriated and depressingly sober, Q realized that he could live with being human as long as he was unable to fully comprehend the harrowing state of his mortality. He took a deep breath. Every sensation from the smell of the mildewed air to the touch of the velveteen fabric underneath his fingertips elicited an exciting tingling throughout his body. Mortal vitality seemed to course through his veins. All suicidal and self-loathing misanthropic considerations faded, pushed aside and ignored.

So this was why Shien and the other mortals were so tolerant of their finiteness. He never noticed Picard, Riker, Worf, Troi or any of the other crewmembers of the Enterprise self-administering drugs to fend off the realities of mortality. But then again, in his omnipotence he had never paid much attention.

Q sighed, the fingers of his left hand drifting from their position on the couch to the crotch of his pants. He moaned quietly, his hand gently rubbing the cloth covering his stiffening organ. Closing his eyes, he focused on the warm pleasurable heat spreading across his body as he stroked himself, throwing his head back and arching his back as he panted.

Shien strolled into the room, switching off his communicator. He suddenly halted mid-step as he heard a soft groan emanate from the opposing couch.

Shien's entire body went ridged at the murmur, his cock hardening. Recovering himself immediately, he stepped forward and peered over the back of the couch. There was Q, massaging himself through his pants without a seeming care. The Aldreenian bit his lip, unable to tear his eyes away, watching with increasing desire.

This was wrong. This wasn't the way he wanted it.

Balling his hands into fists, Shien marched to the kitchen and noisily clashed together pots and dishes in the sink. At the sudden commotion, Q jolted abruptly, looking up.

"Ahm. Dren says he expects to see you tomorrow, considering he has a fixed lesson plan." He drew out a skillet and began the process of frying eggs.

Q stood, resting his fists on his hips. "I'm perfectly fine."

Shien glanced up and examined the human a moment in surprise. He raised an eyebrow. "You certainly recovered yourself quickly."

"I think I conquered the effects of your little narcotic. It must only work on the weak willed."

"I can't believe you built a tolerance already...that was just your third dose. And it's been in a different setting each time..."

"What do you mean, 'tolerance'?" Q pressed, dread growing in the pit of his stomach. "What are you not telling me?"

Scrambling the eggs with a knife edge, Shien made certain to avoid eye contact with the human. "Building a tolerance to a drug...any substance...is a normal response--"

"You say that about everything!"

"That's because you haven't encountered anything abnormal yet. You just act like it is." Q folded his arms over his chest and shot him a petulant look, and Shien continued. "When you take a drug or any foreign substance that taxes your system, your body develops a tolerance for it, and over time it takes a larger amount of the drug to produce the same effect."

"So that evolutionary adaptation of conditioning, the ability to survive in extreme conditions and endure malignant stimuli, is what you humanoids refer to as tolerance?" Q shook his head. It would take him the rest of his mortal life to be able to comprehend the vast and annoying complexities of this life form.

Shien laughed. "You could say that your so-called evolutionary adaptation is what keeps me in business. It's an investment, really. When I meet a new client, I always know that when they return-- and they always do-- they'll want more." Carefully, he dished the eggs on two plates and displayed them on the table, and took a seat.

Q followed suit, dousing his eggs with a hefty amount of pepper and began to shovel the yellow fluff into his mouth. They ate in an uncomfortable silence for a long moment before the human said, "What is it you do when I'm not around?"

"You--you want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

"I--I'm a pharmaceutical supplier."

"Ah. A euphemism for drug dealer. How shocking."

"You can call it what you like, it makes little difference. What matters is that it feeds us and ensures that our landlords won't murder us for being late on the rent."

"Lovely." Q poked at a stray morsel of bread with his fork. He glanced up to see Shien glaring off at a faraway corner. Seeing the Aldreenian uncharacteristically infuriated sent a shiver down his spine.

Shien took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm sorry that my chosen career is not glamorous enough for you." He stood up, tossing his half-empty plate in the sink. "If you're so unimpressed by my efforts, maybe you would do better fending for yourself." Fuming, he stalked out of the room.

Q jumped in his seat as he heard Shien kick a crate across his bedroom and curse loudly. He looked down at his breakfast questioningly. "What's wrong with him?"

* * *

Someone was watching him.

Shien jumped from his bed in surprise to find Q, dressed in only his pajama pants, towering over him. He clasped a hand to his chest, gasping. "Q. It's three in the morning. Wh-what are you doing here? How did you get in?"

He gaped as the human suddenly collapsed to his knees, clutching his head in agony, tears in his eyes. "It," Q whispered. "It..."

"Go on," Shien urged softly.

"It feels...like...my brain is going to...explode in my skull!"

Shien gently held Q's trembling shoulders, trying to look into the other's eyes, but they were clenched shut in pain. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," Q gasped. "Can't sleep...muscles...on fire. It's-- it's intolerable. I can't...I can't..."

"Open your eyes." Slowly, Q obeyed. Shien winced, finding them bloodshot. "Fuck. Now this is abnormal. You should not be getting withdrawal symptoms this early. Yalotta is highly addictive, but not that addictive." This was quite strange. But, Shien reasoned, Q's new body was not used to foreign substances in his bloodstream. Perhaps that had something to do with his reaction.

Q shivered and wiped cold sweat from his brow with a shaking hand.

Standing, the smuggler frantically began to scavenge his room, wildly overturning containers and scattering flotsam and other debris onto the floor. "Shit," he hissed as he cut his hand on a stray piece of glass. Ignoring the fresh blood seeping from the open wound, he uncovered a hypospray, inserted a cartridge of clear, liquid Yalotta, set the dosage, and pressed the implement against Q's exposed neck.

The effect was immediate. The muscles of the human's shoulders relaxed, and he blinked as relief flooded over him. His breathing steadied from the flustered panting, as his skin returned to its normal pink hue. Recovering himself, Q looked up at Shien in confusion.

The Aldreenian nodded stiffly, focusing on the empty hypospray in his hand. "I suppose," he said, laughly dryly, "I might as well add you to my list of clients now."

* * *

A second month passed on Dessica II with still no word from the Anathema.

On his way back to the apartment from that day's training session, Q entered the underground global network of mass transportation vehicles and boarded his designated anti-grav train. Taking a seat on the far side of the transport away from the crowd, he pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket and regarded its contents thoughtfully.

"This is pure Yalotta spice," Shien had said the morning after his first episode of withdrawal, handing him the sack of narcotics. "Each cube is one gram. You can mix it in liquids, or take it by itself, it doesn't matter. Never, and I mean never take more than you are accustomed to, even if you don't feel it working. If you feel withdrawal pangs, take a little more, but at this point don't take more than one gram a day. Also, don't take it in the same location at the same time every day. The moment you change locations after being used to taking it in the same place, you risk overdose."

Q looked up from his reflection to find two men and a Klingon woman staring at him from across the train. Although he still had trouble reading humanoid body language, he could distinctly tell their demeanor was threatening. Then again, when weren't Klingons threatening? Each was dressed in extravagant clothing and the men carried energy weapons at their sides. Shien had warned him that inevitably he would encounter an artifact smuggler, and had informed him of the ridiculous yet heated war between the artifact and drug traffickers. Slowly, he pocketed the bag and folded his hands in his lap.

Exchanging glances with each other, the three smugglers approached him cautiously. "We haven't seen you on this train before." The woman noted his clothing. "Are you aligned with Sal Shien?"

Crossing his arms over his chest in a grand display of calm, Q leaned back in his seat. "Who?"

"Don't be cute with me. I don't have the patience. You're not supposed to be here."

"Is this the time when you tell me that I'm trespassing on your precious territory and threaten me with bodily harm?"

The three exchanged looks again, and one of the men grunted. "Sort of."

"I want nothing to do with your trivial feud."

"Too bad for you," the woman said. "Deaths without a cause are the most unfortunate sort."

At that, the rest of the transport's occupants backed away from the four figures.

Q stood. It took all his concentration to suppress the growing anxiety he was feeling, and to stifle the reflexive urge to flee. At that moment, the only detail forcing him to stand his ground was the fact that he had no where to run to.

He read their plan of attack immediately. The two men were going to grab him by the wrists, wrestle him to the ground and subdue him, allowing the woman to slit his throat with the ceremonial D'k tahg knife she was concealing in her right hand. How charming.

Both men started forward at the same time, moving in to seize the outnumbered human. But by then, Q had already brushed past them with the simple shuffle of his feet, and, catching the first man by the wrist and grabbing the back of his neck, flung him into his companion, causing them to lose their footing and stumble over. They quickly recovered their balance and blindly charged toward their prey once again.

Which was fine with Q. He had already drawn his blaster, set on medium, and remembered the instructions Shien had given him on operating the weapon and how to aim. The first burst was a clear miss, blowing off the second man's arm at the elbow instead of hitting the first man in the chest as he had intended. A second shot leveled the first man.

The Klingon woman visibly balked for a brief moment before launching herself at him with her knife. With one hand occupied, Q could only side-step the attack. Missing her target, the woman staggered forward, exposing her back. Clasping both his hands around the butt of the pistol, Q brutally whacked her between the shoulder blades, driving her to the ground face-first.

A stray disruptor blast suddenly collided with the wall of the train, narrowly missing him. One of the wounded men had found his weapon, and the second was in the process of searching for his own. Increasing the setting on his phaser, Q finished the task he had left half-completed.

The Klingon woman grunted as she attempted to grasp for her dagger, which lay a meter away from her outstretched hand. Q stooped and picked it up.

He examined the sharpened blade with a lack of curiosity. "Ah! A D'k tahg knife. Why, isn't it an insult to a warrior's honor for it to enter another's possession?"

"You bastard!" she growled, rising to her feet. "I'll kill you!"

"With what? Your fangs?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, please. Spare me your desperate attempt at humor. I've seen humans with sharper teeth than yours." She snarled at him, preparing to attack again, when the train abruptly stopped. A pair of doors hissed open, and Q darted through them. "That's my stop! Tell your artifact-plundering companions I said 'hello'!"

He turned around on the other side to watch the transport speed away. Thankfully, she had not followed him. Expelling the deep breath he had been holding, Q allowed a brief smile. It had been frightening, he had feared for his life. Why did that make his triumph all the more rewarding?

Stepping into the apartment moments later, he was immediately assaulted with the sulfuric stench of smoke. Glancing around briefly, he caught sight of the prostitute, Asangi, in the living area, lounging on the couch with a thin cylinder between the fingers of her right hand. In Q's opinion, that woman hung around here much too often. He watched as she put the cylinder to her mouth, pulled from it, and held her breath. A number of seconds later, she exhaled, green smoke escaping her nostrils. Noticing Q standing in the doorway, she offered the device to him.

He wrinkled his nose. "What is that stench?"

"Andris," she stated, still holding out the cylinder. "Good shit."

Q approached her, taking the device from her outstretched hand. He briefly analyzed the sleek design and inner mechanisms of the pipe before stepping back and throwing it out the opposite window. Distantly, he could hear it shatter against the stone.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" she exclaimed, rushing to the window. "What's wrong with you? That was worth at least one hundred latinum strips! Plus the cost of the andris..."

He regarded her with scorn. "Where is Shien?"

"He said he was running errands, or something."

How disappointing. Who was he supposed to boast about his victory to now?

"I think," Asangi added, "he mentioned meeting you at the Crimson Black-hole Barroom tonight."

Q paused. "What the hell are you doing here anyway, woman? Isn't your pimp looking for you?"

Most women would have slapped him for that. In fact, he had been expecting it. Instead, she kicked him full-force in the shin with the tip of her boot. He cried out and clutched his injured lower leg, hopping on the other foot to maintain balance.

She glared at him. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you?"

"Only...completely."

"Well, I'm tired of your shit! You must believe you deserve better, huh? You must've envisioned relaxing on the beaches of Risa, livin' it up in some extravagant mansion, full of your own bullshit. Is that it? Or maybe you were a scientist on some grand space station, with everyone awed into submission by yer inhuman brilliance."

Q straightened, staring at her in alarm.

"But why stop there?" the Bajoran continued, leaning forward. "Maybe you expected t' be king of some lowly planet, or maybe even worshiped as a fucking god. Well," she moved forward until their noses were nearly touching, "let me tell you something that you'll never hear from Shien: yer not any more deserving of that fantasy life than any of us. If you think you're gonna be rescued and live in some palace with slaves to do your bidding, you're fucking delusional. That doesn't even happen to good people! You're going to die un-worshiped with the rest of us pathetic mortals, Q--"

Her last sentence was cut short as Q lashed out, smacking the impertinent Bajoran woman across the face with his open palm before he could suppress his rage. He was immediately ashamed of his brutish action and he withdrew the offending hand. He wanted to run and hide.

Asangi ignored her reddened cheek. "Not much better than th' rest of 'em, huh?"

That stung worse than the kick in the shin. "I can't believe Shien told you." Anything to blame someone else for this. Q wondered why he even cared about the woman knowing the secret of his true origin, why it was even worth keeping secret. It was shame, of course, although adopting his new alias did nothing to erase it.

"It's not like he had much of a choice," she said. "I had to know why he was hanging around with a human, considering Aldreenians tend t' be prejudiced against them. At least the ones I know." When the other raised a questioning brow, she snorted. "You have no clue, do you? I was hoping I would be able to figure out what he finds so appealing about you by coming here. So far, I'm not seeing it."

"I beg your pardon."

"Don't bother begging me for anything." She turned to leave. "And don't worry, your little secret is safe with me." Nearly out the front door, she stopped. "By the way, you owe me a new pipe."

"I'll build you a more efficient one," Q mumbled offhandedly.

Asangi eyed him a moment. Smiling slightly, she left, the door closing behind her.

Once he was alone, Q entered his bathroom and quickly showered, calming his nerves. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he removed his beard stubble, brushed his teeth and applied deodorants-- the usual bodily procedures that had now become routine. Padding into the bedroom, he laid his armor out on the coverlet, regarding the outfit thoughtfully. Was it true that Shien possessed an aversion for humans? Why, then, would the smuggler go to all the trouble of rescuing him from the Tätarians, modifying his own armor to fit him, and staying here on this cesspool of a planet to await his training? Why would Shien show him more compassion than the Continuum?

Q paused before the full-length mirror. While he was known for gazing at the reflection of his face for long durations in the bathroom mirror, for the past two months he had consciously avoided this particular fixture and had even thrown a towel over it to protect his wounded pride. Timidly, he removed the covering and studied the image staring back at him.

The scars were still there, and probably would be for the remainder of this body's existence. He could make out the muscles beginning to sculpt themselves around his arms, obliques, abdomen, legs and even his ass. He would surmount this body's limitations in no time.

Trying not to think about the rest of what the Bajoran prostitute had said earlier, Q donned his armor with renewed confidence and exited the building in the direction of Freggus' barroom.

After a number of wrong directions and instances of head-scratching, Q uncovered the familiar bar hidden among the vagrants and assorted filth. Cautiously, the former entity entered the tavern, his eyes watering at the pungent mixture of aromas combined from narcotic smoke and body odors. A number of the patrons glanced over their shoulders in his direction and immediately returned their attention to their drinks without a second thought.

Q scanned the interior, and, unable to locate Shien, took a seat at the bar. As his senses incrementally adjusted to the harsh surroundings, his muscles relaxed, allowing him to pay attention to any sign of his Aldreenian companion.

"Ah, I remember ya." A voice interrupted his thoughts. "Yer Shien's amnesiac friend, aren'tcha? The one who was nearly ground t' a pulp by a nasty group o' Klingons."

Q looked askance at him. "Yes, that's me."

"Y' don't look half as bad. My name's Freggus. What can I get ya?"

"Water."

"Big spender." The tapster grunted affably, filling up a glass.

"Minus the bacteria," Q suddenly added.

Freggus chuckled, setting the glass on the counter in front of his customer. "I make no guarantees."

Retrieving his plastic bag, the human plucked out a cube and watched it dissolve in the transparent liquid. Sipping from the glass, Q observed a blond figure approach out of the corner of his eye. He exchanged a faint smile with Shien, who slid up next to him.

"Sal, my boy," the tender greeted. "Why have y' not come by in so long? My bar not good enough fer ya any more?"

A knowing smirk spread across Shien's handsome features. "Freggus, what is your most expensive drink?"

"Ahh, I suppose that would be the alpha-current nectar."

"We'll have two of those, then. And no skimping on the nectar."

Freggus shook his head. "How d' I know yer worth it?"

Barely able to contain his excitement, the smuggler reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a large wad of latinum strips. The bartender's eyes enlarged, and Q noted many of the patrons in their immediate vicinity stare at Shien like he had just turned into a juicy steak. One even fumbled for his weapon.

Freggus rushed off and returned shortly with two blood-red beverages. The Aldreenian casually ticked off a number of strips and laid them out. "And a little extra." The remainder disappeared into his jacket.

"Where did y--"

Shien raised a finger. "You know better than to ask that." The bartender rolled his eyes and moved to attend other clientele. "Did you already dissolve a cube, Abel? No matter." He drew out two cubes from his own pouch and dropped one into his companion's drink, and the other in his own. They clicked their shot glasses together and simultaneously pitched the bitter nectar into their awaiting mouths. "So," he drawled. "How was your day? You look like you have something to tell me."

"I encountered three artifact smugglers on the subterranean transport today," Q declared casually.

"Three? You appear unmarred...you didn't fight them, did you?" When his question was answered by a pleased smile, he straightened in interest. "What happened?" The human described the brief confrontation, embellishing his feat slightly, and Shien patted him on the shoulder in congratulations. "Two men and a Klingon, eh? Those bastards deserved it. And you, the self-described pacifist, killed two of them?" He shook his head. "How does it feel to be empowered for once in a long time?"

Q flicked his empty shot glass around on its cushion nervously. It had felt much better than he was willing to admit. He had not been at all conflicted about injuring, maiming or killing those mortals. It had seemed so natural.

Shien mused, "I'll take that as a 'damn good.' Adrenaline can be just as addictive as any drug. It doesn't necessarily mean you have issues with bloodlust, though. Natural highs, I find, are the most rewarding. Of course, most normal people just receive their adrenaline rushes through sex..."

That, Q realized with discomfort, was the first time Shien had ever mentioned sex in his presence.

The Aldreenian yawned, his lithe body stretching in all directions. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't impressed by your astounding progress. You're a remarkable human, Abel."

"I am not human," Q pointed out slowly.

"Huh? Oh, I suppose you're right. You're much too intelligent and skilled."

Q bristled. "What do you mean by that?"

Shien raised a brow at the other's sudden change in tone. "I was just issuing a compliment."

"Are you insinuating that humans are somehow inferior?"

"I don't need to insinuate anything."

"Hmph." Q twisted away, folding his arms petulantly over his chest. "I'm tired of you continuously ridiculing humanity."

Shien gawked. "I don't believe this. I'm being called black by the kettle."

"Now I'm a kettle?"

Lowering his voice to a whisper, the smuggler drew the other toward him. "Q, why the hell are you suddenly being defensive? Is it the nectar?"

Q snorted. "Your trollop of a friend told me how you feel about humans."

"The way I...?" An invisible light flickered above Shien's head. "Oh." When the other's intense stare did not let up, he sighed, forced to elaborate. "I'm sure Asangi was just trying to get under your skin."

"A Regulan parasitic mite could take cues from that woman. She kicked me, you know."

"I'm sure you deserved it for whatever reason. You shouldn't be too hard on her, though. You two have a great deal in common..."

"Don't attempt to derail the subject. What basis do you, as the member of a limited species, have to criticize another similarly-limited species?"

The barstool tottered slightly as Shien changed sitting positions. "Terrans are genetically inferior!" Shien burst out as if he had been sitting on his boiling emotions for eternity. "They have almost no psychic abilities, are easily susceptible to diseases and debilitations and possess weakened senses. And yet, they have a technological monopoly over the majority of the galaxy. B-but I'm not suggesting that I think you're genetically inferior to me! I-I don't even consider you as a human..."

"Then, pray tell, what am I? I'd be delighted if you would enlighten me."

"You're more capable of answering that question that me. You said it yourself-- you're not human. How am I to know what you are, if you're not even sure?"

Q lowered his attention to the filthy counter top, his mood darkening. "I am," he began, "Abel Keynan, a 42-year old human with no living relatives. I was enslaved by the Cardassians. As far as the mortal record is concerned, I did not exist prior to this point. And as far as the Continuum is concerned, I no longer exist."

Frankly, Shien was deeply perturbed by his companion's identity crisis, and wordlessly signaled to the tender for another round of drinks. Silently, he nudged the new shot glass in the other's direction. Q downed it without verbal encouragement. Tentatively, the Aldreenian laid a hand on the human's arm, and was surprised when the human didn't flinch. Granted, Q did not react at all, but that was all the encouragement Shien needed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered inaudibly under his breath, and then smiled. "I suppose you aren't in the mood then for a brawl." Noticing how the former entity's eyes raised, he continued. "I thought, since your training with Dren is nearly complete, we could test your capabilities...see if we're getting our money's worth. But it seems you've already proven yourself this afternoon."

"You were intending to instigate a fracas with these maladroit simps?"

"In a way. After waving around that latinum like a buffoon, I can guarantee that we will be ambushed once we leave."

"We don't have much of a choice then."

"That's the spirit." Shien slid off the stool gracefully, and led Q through the maze of tables and clientele toward the rear exit of the tavern.

They were only a beat away from the doors when a man slithered out from the shadows behind them and smashed a wooden chair against an unsuspecting Q's back. Instead of shattering upon impact, however, the sturdy chair remained intact and leveled the human to the floor, knocking the wind out of him.

Recovering himself, Q rolled out of the way and stumbled to his feet in time to avoid another blow from the makeshift weapon.

As Shien whirled toward the sound of his companion crying out, the heel of an open palm shot out and smacked him in the face, causing him to stagger backwards. "Argh, I didn't expect that!" He reeled, bumping into Q.

Rubbing the small of his back, the former entity shot the other a dirty look. "I'm lucky to have you to protect me." He looked around, but their attackers had hidden again.

"Thieves."

Q was about to retort about the astuteness of that observation when he caught the glint of something metallic in the darkness. Shien saw it too, his blaster jumping to his raised hands. Before he could fire a shot, however, they were swarmed by a group of lean figures, rendering any aiming impossible. Instantly, they were thrown into direct hand-to-hand combat with their attackers, trading blows.

Although the thieves must have known that Shien was carrying the coveted latinum strips, they focused their efforts on the taller, more imposing human, perceiving him as the greater threat. The three figures on Q were not particularly skilled, and he easily blended, blocked and otherwise evaded the majority of their attacks. But they had speed and numbers to their advantage. Through the flailing arms and legs, a lucky punch landed against his jaw, gnashing his teeth painfully together. Another delivered a roundhouse kick to his side. If he didn't try some offensive maneuvers soon, they were going to wear him out.

Through the jabs and kicks, Q darted his gaze to Shien. The thieves on the blond-haired Aldreenian were exchanging blows wildly, but neither seemed to be able to knock the other down by force alone. While Q's style was smoother, more calculated, spherical and deliberate, the smuggler's own technique was simply aggressive and raw. He had cast aside his blaster and was ducking and jumping to avoid his aggressors' onslaughts, to the thieves' obvious irritation.

Then, in the process of their rapid movement, Shien caught one of his attackers by the wrist and fluidly flung him over his shoulder and against a table and chairs. The man's body fell to the floor in an unpleasant heap, barely moving.

Shien evaded a kick aimed at his abdomen and smirked at his companion. "Could I borrow one of yours?"

Q clutched one thief by the back of the head and slammed his face against his knee. "I don't need your help."

"Do hurry up then." The Aldreenian decked the second thief with a brutal uppercut.

Several strikes, punches, and broken bones later, four of the thieves were unconscious and the fifth had retreated into the shadows to nurse his wounds.

Kneeling down, Shien began to frisk the clothes of the bodies for valuables, pocketing wallets, jewelry and other items that were not even originally theirs. Q chuckled.

The Aldreenian grinned, raising a bracelet into the air valued at nearly forty bars of latinum. "So," he drawled. "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

* * *

"Stop fidgeting, Q!" Shien ordered. "How am I going to get this thing straight if you refuse to stand still?"

Q shifted his weight uncomfortably and glared at the mirror as the shorter man struggled to rearrange his collar and straighten his jacket. "Aren't you done yet?"

"Just about." The smuggler opened the last box and unwrapped a maroon cummerbund.

"What's that? Corsets are for women, Shien."

"It's not a corset." He pulled out a second cummerbund, a blue one, and fitted it over himself, snapping it in place. "See? It's for men."

"Aren't girdles supposed to go under clothes? And I'll have you know I don't need a girdle."

"It's not a girdle!"

"What's the point in wearing it, then?"

Shien considered it. "I don't know, I don't make up the traditions, I just follow the ones I like. Look, you don't have to wear it if you don't want to, but I'm wearing mine."

Q followed the other's example and fastened his cummerbund on out of mere curiosity and appraised himself. It didn't look too bad, really. He retrieved his phaser from atop the bed comforter and positioned himself in front of the mirror with it, striking various suave poses.

Shien chuckled at the other's vanity, his eyes drifting up and down Q's body. "You look very good."

The human turned around suddenly, as if caught off guard to hear someone issue a genuine compliment about his appearance. He was about to reply when the door to the apartment chimed, cutting him off. "Who's that?"

Avoiding the question, the Aldreenian strode to the door and allowed their guest to enter.

Asangi nodded at Shien's dinner suit with satisfaction. "Very snazzy."

Hearing that familiar voice, Q burst into the foyer. "You didn't mention anything about inviting her!"

"Look," the Bajoran woman interrupted. "I wouldn't wanna go anywhere with you either. But it isn't every day someone invites me t' dinner, much less to dinner at an elite restaurant. So fuck off."

Q made a face. It would be impossible to get rid of her, he knew. And refusing to go himself would hardly be beneficial either. These people would be more than willing to leave him behind rather than indulge in his threats. How annoying.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Shien asked, surveying her dress. It was of a simple sort of elegance, reaching her knees and complimenting her figure, but hardly suitable for a high class restaurant.

Asangi became immediately defensive, following his critical gaze. "What's wrong with it? I've had this dress fer five years."

"Never mind, let's go." Shien filled his pockets with Deccas and they promptly made their way out the door.

The cruiser ride to their destination was long, painfully boring and uncomfortably quiet, taking nearly an hour to travel from their apartment in the wasteland city of Bal'mora to the isolated suburb of Gedena. It was apparently the only part of Dessica II not marred with pollution, choked with dilapidated buildings and overrun with poverty-stricken miscreants. Unsurprisingly, this was where all the elites resided. Gedena was surrounded in a giant wall, and it took a substantial amount of latinum for them to gain passage through.

"Well, the difficult part is over," Shien said as he parked the vehicle in a complex beside the restaurant. "No one brought any weapons with them, I expect? Because that's a good way to get yourself incinerated."

"I thought only assault and murder were considered felonies," Q said.

"In Gedena, just pointing to an elite can be construed at assault. So if they spit in your food, just eat around it."

The lush building before them was built around a large fountain unlike anything seen on Dessica II. The interior rooms were themed according to the four quadrants of the galaxy. After glancing around a moment and taking in their surroundings, they approached the front desk.

"Good evening," a man said pleasantly without a hint of sarcasm. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes." Shien smiled very widely. "Shien, party of three for twenty-one hundred."

"And what Quadrant would you like to be dining in tonight, sir?"

"Ahm...the Alpha Quadrant, preferably."

The other looked them up and down a brief moment. One suspiciously handsome, pale-skinned humanoid. One undernourished, moderately-dressed Bajoran woman. One attractive, paranoid-looking human. "May I see your identifications, please?"

They handed them over.

He surveyed each identification card and verified them. He frowned, glancing up with a different facial expression. One drug smuggler, one prostitute, and one former slave. "What a very interesting batch this is," he murmured under his breath, returning their identifications. "Follow me, then."

The steward led the trio past two Authority officers who scanned them for weapons. Finding nothing, they allowed Shien and the Bajoran woman through, but held Q longer because he "looked suspicious."

"What are you stopping me for?" Q wailed indignantly as they frisked him several times in front of everyone. "This is species-profiling!"

Turning up nothing threatening, the guards waved the insulted human away.

Q stomped to the table in which Shien and Asangi were already seated. "How dare they embarrass me like that?"

"What're you going t' do?" Asangi taunted. "Destroy them?"

"No." He took a seat at the circular table and smirked impishly at some private thought. "I'm so much more creative than that."

Shien's eyes widened in horror, fully aware of what types of mischievous and dangerous deeds his companion was capable of. "No, please don't!"

Q scowled. "Stop overreacting, I'm not going to do anything." He looked around. "So, what happens now? When does the food appear?"

"What do you mean 'what happens now'?" she asked. "Haven't you been t' a restaurant before? It's just about the same as a bar...you order when the waiter comes around and they prepare your food and serve it to you."

"And I'm supposed to just sit here and wait? I'm hungry now."

Several patrons seated at adjacent tables glanced over their shoulders before returning their attention to their food. Shien scratched the back of his neck in discomfort. Thankfully the waiter, a native Dessican, decided to show up at that moment.

"Hello, my name is Sweves," he proclaimed, "and I'll be your waiter this evening. Tonight's special is the Hasperat soufflé with sautéed vegetables." He passed out padds that held the menu items and politely inquired if they would like something to drink.

"Kanta'ar!" Q exclaimed.

Sweves stared at him, puzzled.

"Uhm," Shien whispered. "I don't think they serve that here."

"What? Why not?" He barely noticed his voice rise in pitch. "For what we're paying to eat in this dive, they should serve Hilgrian casserole! And the Hilgrians have been extinct for two million years!"

The Aldreenian flushed red, giving the waiter an apologetic look. "Ah, we'll have a bottle of spring wine...is that all right with you, Asangi?"

She nodded, glaring at Q.

"What year, sir?"

"I don't...the good year."

"That would be the fifty-nine, sir."

"Yes, that one."

"Very good. Would you like any appetizers to start off with?"

Q twisted in his seat. "Appetizers? What's the point? How about you be a good waiter and fetch our food right now and I'll be sure he gives you a nice big tip?"

"Excuse me?" the waiter stammered.

Shien grabbed the human's arm and lowered his voice so only he could hear. "Q, if you keep harassing the waiter, I'm going to have Asangi gag you and we're going to eat our food right in front of you. You can just sit there and watch."

"That's not very nice."

"I don't want to get kicked out of the best restaurant on Dessica II!"

"This is the best restaurant?"

While the two men argued with each other, Asangi waved Sweves closer. "Don't mind them. We'll have some cava rolls, mazo stalks and oh, some veklivar! With jumja sauce for dipping!"

The ruffled waiter nodded quickly, noting the information before running off.

Q pulled himself away from the Aldreenian and shot her a dirty look. "You just ordered a bunch of Bajoran food, didn't you?"

"So?"

"I don't want Bajoran food."

"Q," Shien started. "You've never tried Bajoran food. You might like it."

"And I might find it repulsive."

"Well, you'll have to take the chance. You should be more open to trying new things. That's what you're here to do, after all."

Sweves returned promptly with the appetizers and wine, ceremoniously opening the bottle and pouring it into their glasses before he asked for their orders.

"I'll have the Remoutah special," Asangi announced.

"Big surprise," Q grumbled.

"With what type of stew? The Retamba or the Sem'hal?"

"Definitely the Retamba."

"And I'll have the Hasperat soufflé," Shien said.

The waiter looked at Q. "And you, sir?"

"Hmm." The human mulled over his menu for a moment. "I'll have..."

Shien winced, expecting the worst.

"...the Tajal special with the Zabu stew. And, ah, some Ragova eggs."

The waiter swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. And make sure they don't skimp on the Yamok sauce."

"Would you like your eggs cooked?"

Q glanced to Shien, who nodded vigorously. "Yes."

With a twitch of the eye, Sweves gathered their menus and scurried off again.

Asangi stared at him. "You prick. You ordered Cardassian food on purpose, didn't you?"

"Oh, what makes you think that? I'm just taking Sal's advice and trying something new."

Shien reached for a cava roll. "I find that hard to believe. But at least you didn't order fish juice."

Q snapped his fingers. "That's what I forgot."

"Well, while we're waiting...try these mazo stalks." He displayed the basket in front of the human to try.

Q tentatively plucked one out and sniffed at it. Finding that it didn't smell overly nauseating, he nibbled on it, considered the flavor, and swallowed.

The Bajoran woman waited as if the wrong response would be a personal insult to her entire species. "Well?"

Shien smirked, watching Q's face go utterly blank. "He likes it. He just doesn't want to admit it."

"Are your keen empathic powers telling you that?" The human sipped from his wineglass casually.

"No, I just know you."

Q pushed out his chair, moving to stand. "It's going to take forever for them to make our food. I'm going to go mingle..."

"With who?" He followed the other's gaze, to the people seated at the surrounding tables absorbed in their own conversations. "Q, you're not supposed to mingle at restaurants."

"Why not?"

"Because...it goes against social mores." When the other did not seem adequately convinced by this argument, Shien sighed, deflated. "I don't know why, it's just rude. And you'll look ridiculous if you do."

Q pouted, sitting back down. He definitely did not want do look ridiculous. "So, we're just supposed to sit here and wait?"

"Usually," Asangi muttered, deadpan, "people use this time t' talk to each other."

All three fell into an awkward silence and chewed on their bland appetizers, the crunching of food the only sound.

"So," Asangi drawled, "this is an elite restaurant. I've never been t' one before."

"Yes," Shien seized on this bit of conversation enthusiastically. "This is the third time I've been here. It's not exactly financially wise to indulge in elite activities on a smuggler's budget."

"Yeah," she agreed with a tint of bitterness.

"So where are these elites you're always talking about?" Q surveyed the room as if on safari, anticipating to catch one in its native habitat. "I want to see one!"

"Try not to stare too long," Shien advised. "You can usually tell just at first glance, but it takes some practice. Uhm, the man at the far left table, sitting next to the Vulcan..."

"He's one?" Q wailed in disbelief.

Over the course of several minutes, the Aldreenian pointed to every elite in the room and mentioned some footnote about each individual he recognized, such as what they owned and what governing powers they held. There was very little difference in their outward appearance than that of the normal Dessican citizen except that the elites dressed better, held themselves with more poise and, according to Shien, had no accents. Q also noted with some interest that most of the elites were human and that absolutely none were from the indigenous Dessican species. Which failed to explain why the Authority guards had flagged him down.

Sweves presently arrived carrying a tray of their entrees, setting each plate beside its respective owner. After asking if they needed anything else for the third time, he bustled away again to wait another table.

The Aldreenian and Bajoran stared at Q's plate, adorned in Cardassian foodstuffs, in utter apprehension. It looked terrible, and smelled even worse.

"You--" Asangi grimaced, repulsed. "You don't have to eat that just t' spite me."

"Don't flatter yourself. The gift of my spite is only reserved for the most deserving."

"You're torturing yourself more than anything else." She looked to Shien for support, wondering if Q's comment was an insult or a compliment. "Talk some sense into him. Tell him he's going t' make himself sick if he eats that shit."

Shien waved it off. "Eh, leave him alone. Let him learn what foods his body can digest, and what it can't. He has to figure out his limits for himself."

Q nodded once, satisfied. He inhaled the thick aromas emanating from his food before taking small tentative bites.

The other two picked at their own meals, their eyes focused on him as if awaiting an immanent explosion.

Swallowing a mouthful of the foul-looking fare, Q raised a brow and started eating with more gusto. "I don't see what your problem is...it tastes just fine."

Asangi stuttered. "Y-you mean you actually like it?"

"It's far superior to Shien's cooking."

"I have t' try this for myself." She reached out her fork and speared some morsel and chewed on it for a brief moment before grimacing in disgust and spitting it out into her napkin. "Plugh! That's revolting! How can you possibly eat that?"

"That's just your Bajoran predispositions talking. Unlike you, I have no unfounded prejudices against other cultures."

"Yeah, but most humans can't tolerate non-human, much less Cardassian food. And the ones that do acquired the taste."

"Perhaps I acquired it while I was enslaved," Q mused sarcastically, blowing on his stew to cool it off.

Asangi shook her head, picking at her meal. "The Cardassians wouldn't have fed you their own food. They would have left you to scavenge for whatever you could possibly find t' feed yourself."

Shien downed his glass of wine and refilled it.

"You're not going to bemoan the tired plight of the Bajorans now, are you?" Q yawned dramatically. "Your people brought it on entirely themselves."

"What? You fu--"

"Anyway," Shien said, steering the subject in another direction. "Let's talk about something else. Preferably something you two can't use as fodder to fling insults at each other."

"This fanfare of dressing up in flamboyant and uncomfortable clothing and being forced to act courteously to the help seems to be a wasted effort just to eat," Q noted, swallowing a mouthful of egg. "I could easily do without the company, too."

"The experience is more important than the food itself. And besides, you're the one who suggested that I take you out in the first place."

"I didn't know what I was saying. I wanted to try something new."

Shien set his teeth. Perhaps this had been a terrible idea. If there wasn't live entertainment or someone he could ridicule, Q was bored. It was a boredom that was only amplified because he was now confined to sitting in one spot instead of being allowed to roam the building at his own whim.

After a long pause of several minutes, Shien asked, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you want to try something new?"

"I--" Q contemplated it a moment, then made an extraneous gesture with his fork. "Simply to escape the bane of my existence...mind-numbing tedium. Ennui is a wonderful motivator."

Asangi hmphed. "Why can't you just admit you were curious?"

"Curiosity, boredom, what's the difference? I have a working theory that all the supposed 'great strides' made by humanity were inspired by mere boredom with their monotonous, pathetic lives."

"Is he always this bleak?" She looked to the Aldreenian, who nodded in affirmation. "What are you so bitter about, anyway? I can understand why an all-powerful...whatever you were...would have reason t' think humans are inferior...but that doesn't explain why you'd choose t' become one."

"I didn't choose anything."

"Yeah, but y' had a choice between species. That's what Sal told me."

"And what other secrets of mine did dear Sal tell you, anyway?" Q watched carefully as a silent Shien crumbled two cubes into his wine glass, gulped its contents, and closed his eyes as if concentrating on something.

"Not much," Asangi admitted. "Jus' that you pissed off yer 'people,'" her fingers quoted the air, "by tormenting some mortals, and as ironic punishment they kicked you out and took away yer immortality and dropped ya off on the Federation starship Enterprise. And then you did some kind of good deed or something and they were gonna give your powers back, but some other Q interfered..." She paused. "What, do you guys all call yourselves by the same name?"

"If you must know, yes."

"How the hell do you tell each other apart, then?"

"What is this, a question-and-answer session?" Q snapped. "I didn't call a press conference, woman! I don't have to answer your sophomoric and misguided questions."

"He's defensive, too."

"I am not!"

"That's not the only thing..." Shien drawled, poking at his soufflé.

"You stay out of this! You've done enough damage!"

"So." Asangi folded her hands over the table. "Why do you have a navel?"

Q nearly choked on a piece of meat. "What?"

"I was talkin' to Kaela, and when I asked her if you have a navel, she said yes. Which would imply that you had an umbilical cord, which would also imply that you were born. But you weren't. So why is that?"

Shien's brows rose. "You're right!"

Q sighed, covering his eyes. "Why the hell are you wasting my time on these trivial, inane questions? Why can't you quiz me on the nature of the universe like the Starfleet lackeys did? At least their idiocy had relevance." And I could answer their questions if I ever felt the need."

"'Cause I don't care about that shit. I don't care why I was created and by who. I wanna know why if you were so omniscient, why you couldn't foresee that the Continuum would take away yer powers and why you did nothing to stop it."

Q stifled the sudden urge to hurl his food at her. "Maybe," he seethed, "they had been plotting and scheming behind my proverbial back for millennia. And maybe their combined strength surpassed my own by a billion times!"

"So you were powerless."

"Yes, almost as powerless as a woman being forced to sell her body because she possesses no other valuable skills!"

Sweves scurried up to the table, apparently having caught an earful of their blaring conversation. "Ah, how is everyone's meal going?"

The human and Bajoran woman glared at each other across the table in silent, deadly animosity.

"Uh, can I get you anything else?" the waiter pressed.

Shien, slumped in his chair, handed the waiter the empty wine bottle. "More."

The Dessican clutched the bottle to his chest and nodded. "Would that be the same year or something different?"

"Meh."

Taking that as an affirmative to the first point, the waiter disappeared yet again.

Q tore his eyes away from the prostitute and stared at Shien in stupefied alarm. "Are you drunk?"

The other just smiled at him warmly.

Unable to believe his eyes, Q shook his head. "You were fine two minutes ago! How is he drunk already?"

"He did just down the majority of that wine," Asangi explained with amusement. "Normally he wouldn't feel a thing from that, but obviously he wants to get drunk." She paused a beat, analyzing the human's questioning look. "You don't know about that either? Aldreenians can control the amount of alcohol and foreign substances that enter their bloodstream. It catches up to them if they drink too much too quickly, but it enables them to drink most species under the table without getting phased."

"She's right," Shien admitted, waving a hand.

Q narrowed his eyes, the implications of her last comment sinking in. Before he could address this revelation, however, Sweves had returned with the new bottle of spirits.

The waiter removed Q's and Shien's emptied dishes and pointed to the woman's own half-eaten plate. "Are you finished with your dinner, Madam?"

"Yeah." she waved him away, looking at Q. "I can't believe you ate all that."

"I hope your meals were satisfactory." Sweves said cheerfully. "Would you three like to see the dessert tray?"

"'Dessert tray'?" Q repeated.

"Yes, I'll go get it." A moment later, the waiter reappeared with a large tray of various confectionaries. "We have desserts such as Terran ice cream, Dessican bread pudding, Bajoran flan, and various fruit pies from across the quadrant. We also serve Delavian chocolate cake, Cardassian leek torte, Tuwaly pie, among others."

"What's ice cream?" Shien inquired, looking at the tray. "It sounds disgusting. Ice. Cream."

"It's a frozen dish made out of dairy products. It comes in many flavors." He presented a long list on a padd.

"Ahm. All these flavors are foreign to me. Strawberry, caramel, vanilla, mint. I'll just have whatever fruit pistachio is."

"I think pistachio is a nut, actually," Asangi corrected. "Just try the vanilla. And I'll have a slice of cherry pie."

Q nearly poked his finger into a thick slice of some mahogany treat. "What's that?"

"That is the Delavian chocolate cake."

Shien leaned back languidly. "Mm. I've had that before, it's very good...I'd suggest you order that, Abel. Some claim it's better than sex."

"Oh, and who makes that broad claim?" When Shien jerked his thumb to the woman beside him, Q changed his tune. "Well, if the expert says so, I'll have two."

"Good choice, sir." Sweves smoothly bowed away.

"I really resent your snide remarks about my profession," Asangi said flatly.

"Oh? Really? Because I never intended any of my remarks to actually offend you."

"Yeah well, I'll have you know that I've been doin' this for the past ten years since I was fifteen. I'm proud of where I am."

"Low expectations have that sort of effect on those incapable of seeing the broad spectrum."

"I'm smart enough to know where th' money is," she countered, "unlike some dumb shits who resort to begging or chasing after overblown dreams. And at least I'm in control of my life."

"That's what you think. But you're welcome to delude yourself."

Shien caught sight of the waiter returning with their desserts and enthusiastically beckoned him back. "Thank god."

Sweves served the dishes and presented the Aldreenian with a padd and, after asking again in that ingratiating manner if they needed anything else, was gone.

The Aldreenian dug into his ice cream with a spoon and looked across the table. "Have you ever had cake before, Q?"

"No." Q stared at the confection in front of him skeptically.

Asangi swallowed a mouthful of cherry pie. "But you've had dessert before, right?"

He shook his head. "I never had the opportunity. I only eat when it's utterly necessary."

"Isn't he full of so many cute, inaccurate assumptions?" Shien laughed, pouring himself another helping of wine and missing the glass entirely. "We eat more than just for sustaining life, darling." He didn't notice how the human visibly flinched at the last irksome word.

"And necessity is probably the secondary reason," she added, taking the bottle from her friend and pouring it for him herself.

Q sectioned off a piece of chocolate onto his fork. "That seems to be a recurrent theme in mortal existence."

Again, they watched him with their undivided attention, intent to observe his reaction to an experience he found novel and that they took for granted. Slowly, he took a bite of the cake and physically froze as the richest flavor and texture he had ever encountered registered on the receptors of his taste buds and sent neurons ablaze. It was delicious, moist, an indescribable taste of luxuriant chocolate, warm fudge, cold berries and a hint of some type of nut.

Shien chuckled as they watched Q suddenly drop his fork and double over from overwhelming pleasure, moaning unintelligibly. "I think he likes it."

"How can you tell? He's always so fuckin' dramatic about everything."

Swallowing, Q took a deep breath, regaining his composure. Horrified, he touched his pants briefly just to make sure, and sat up, trying unsuccessfully to look indifferent. "I see what you mean." He looked longingly at his dessert with a gleam in his eye, like he had the sudden impulse to eat both slices as fast as he could gulp them down.

"Don't eat too fast," Asangi advised, not knowing why she even cared enough to bother. "You'll make yerself sick."

"Figures." Q took another slow bite, savoring it. It seemed that even the best of things, when taken in excess, were just as harmful as poison. But it was good.

The men cleaned their dessert plates with ease, and Q remorselessly helped himself to Asangi's abandoned pie without her consent.

Shien's eyes grazed the padd the waiter had left him and he burst out in laughter and would have fallen over backwards if Q had not quickly grabbed the back of the chair. "Oh-kay," he giggled, reaching into his jacket pocket and fishing out a handful of Deccas. "I have to pay for this..."

Asangi cast her napkin onto the table and gathered her purse. "Are you even able to stand?"

He struggled in a feeble attempt, but only ended up knocking some silverware onto the floor with a noisy clank, which issued dirty looks from a number of patrons. "Doesn't seem like it."

Q heaved a sigh and carefully helped his drunk companion to his feet. "You're utterly pathetic." The words were harsh, but he had a broad smile on his face. Strangely, some dark subconscious part of him enjoyed seeing Shien helpless this way.

The smuggler looked up at Q with a bright grin and let himself be carried off, enjoying his present, lighthearted state while it lasted.