Lunch found Quark's Bar as it ought to be: packed. With everyone still busy moving back into their quarters and sorting out their luggage, nobody wanted to eat at home, which was fine with Quark. He didn't even begrudge the Replimat being packed as well, or that he had to put up with most of the Klingons, given that the Klingon chef had not yet returned to reopen his restaurant.
Besides, it didn't look as if the Kingons were going to cause trouble. They sat together with Worf, Dax, and the kid that kept dropping things, and did their usual bit of outshouting and outlaughing everyone else in the room, but that was that. When Quark caught a glimpse of Garak entering out of the corner of his eye, he immediately checked on the Klingons again. To his relief, none of them gave Garak another look. Garak, on the other hand, did give the impression of searching for something other than a meal. Reg, one of Quark's Ferengi waiters, had hurried over to him. Judging by the tenseness of Garak's posture and Reg's cringing, it wasn't an amiable encounter, which in itself was unusual for Garak and enough to alarm Quark. Sighing, he went over to sort out his one remaining customer for kanar.
"Now I know overbooking is a valued Ferengi tradition," Garak said when Quark came closer, "but I am afraid I must insist."
His voice carried the usual blend of pleasantry and sarcasm, but the look in the cool blue eyes was distinctly unamused. Reg hurried over to Quark and hastily explained that there was no table booked for Dr. Bashir and Mr. Garak.
"As the good Doctor told me the other day he would make the reservations, I rather doubt that," Garak said. "He does have a photographic memory, after all."
He also had not made any reservations for a table, which Quark, who had gone over the lunch bookings in an attempt to cheer himself up after Jadzia had left, was reasonably sure about. But it wouldn't have done to say this out loud. You didn't have to be a spy, an expert in decrypting, or even a security officer to figure out that one, Quark thought. Bashir and Garak had spent less time together before the war as Bashir spent more and more time with Chief O'Brien, but they had kept their lunch appointments till the Federation left the station. Now, Garak clearly wanted to resume the habit, and Bashir obviously had just plain forgotten. And Ziyal wasn't around any longer as an alternative. Quark told himself that it was just because he didn't want someone whom he had once hired as an assassin to get any ideas for taking out his bad mood on innocent barkeepers, and turned on the unfortunate Reg.
"You idiot," he said. "Of course the Doctor had a table booked."
"But..." Reg protested, open-mouthed.
"I'm going to take it out of your salary," Quark hissed and gestured to the table where Jake and Nog were sitting, guzzling vile root beer and happily chatting with each other. "Now tell that nephew of mine that he's supposed to help in times like this, and then prepare the table for Mr. Garak."
Garak gave him a look as Reg shuffled off. Quark shrugged. "Rule of Acquisition 57," he said. "Good customers are as rare as latinum - treasure them. Nog may have been corrupted by Starfleet, but he still knows his rules."
"Young people. You never know," Garak said slowly, as they watched a puzzled Jake and an angry Nog rise and stomp away from the table, "what they forget these days."
Quark spent the next ten minutes checking on other customers, with a call to sickbay placed in between. As he passed Garak's table again with spice pudding in addition to the kanar, Garak surprised him by grasping his wrist after Quark had put down the pudding.
"Sit," he said.
"I'm working," Quark protested.
"After that rather condescending show of pity," Garak said tersely, "you might as well spare one or two minutes of your charming company."
No good deed ever goes unpunished, Quark thought and cursed himself for a fool. He should have known Garak would see through it, and not appreciate the effort. And it wasn't as if Garak's patronage was that important, anyway. In truth, Quark had no idea why he had felt compelled to intervene in order to spare Garak's feelings. It certainly didn't have to do with any sense of kinship, just because watching Jadzia with Worf after the conversation earlier today put him in an odd mood. Still, he sat down.
"I heard some items left by the more recent guests might have found their way into your possession," Garak said.
"You and Captain Sisko both," Quark replied, immediately on his guard. "It still doesn't mean I have them."
This time, the smile on Garak's face actually reached his eyes. "Oh, I would never suggest such a thing," he said. "And I'm sure that even if you had, you would be solely motivated by the desire to return them to their former owners."
"Hm," Quark said.
"Such a noble enterprise would provide a marvellous opportunity to maintain some old friendships," Garak said. "Or to create new ones. After all, disenchantment with the Dominion should be setting in by now."
"If such items were to find their way back to their old owners, I'm sure there would be some conversation," Quark confirmed cautiously. Just then, he saw Odo entering, and stiffened. Odo looked around, but if he hoped or feared to find Kira here, he was sure to be disappointed. Given that there was a safe distance between the replimat and the security office, as opposed to Quark's Bar and the security office, Quark could have told him which one Kira would pick.
Or maybe Odo was here to investigate the same thing Garak was asking about.
Following Quark's gaze, Garak nodded at Odo, who by now must have seen all there was to see, but had not moved.
"The good Constable seems to be out of sorts," he said neutrally. "He hasn't yelled at you yet, and there doesn't appear to be a social engagement waiting for him, either."
"Such a pity," Quark returned, and the renewed bitterness, rising from his stomach, made him long for some Eelwasser. "Not two days ago, he was about to become king of the universe. Must be real tough, being stuck with us lowly mortals again."
Garak's eyeridges shot up, and Quark wished he hadn't said anything. After all, Kira had told everyone what was in the official report; that the female Founder had incapacitated Odo during the time of Rom's sabotage, that this had been the reason why Rom got captured. If it had been anything else, in a time of war between the Federation and the Dominion, Odo might well end up in a prison cell himself for however long it would take for the Dominion to win or the Federation to pull off another miracle and claim victory itself. As angry as he was, Quark didn't want that.
"It must be the fact you didn't water your kanar for once," Garak said, "for I could swear I hear a case of disappointed hero worship."
"I never water my kanar," Quark said, insulted, rose, and deliberately added, "and you should know. Judging by how drunk you were that time when Dr. Bashir had to get you out of my bar."
Garak inclined his head as if to acknowledge a hit. Odo was leaving again, yellow back straight as ever, so Quark felt free to get himself a drink of Eelwasser after all. He could hear the Klingons starting with another song as he was rummaging among the bottles behind the bar and wondered whether he should charge them extra for the headache they were giving him when he spotted Bashir entering, hair uncombed and looking somewhat bedraggled in general. With an impatient gesture, he made a motion towards Garak's table.
Heroes, Quark thought as Bashir made his way towards Garak. Who needed them anyway?
Besides, it didn't look as if the Kingons were going to cause trouble. They sat together with Worf, Dax, and the kid that kept dropping things, and did their usual bit of outshouting and outlaughing everyone else in the room, but that was that. When Quark caught a glimpse of Garak entering out of the corner of his eye, he immediately checked on the Klingons again. To his relief, none of them gave Garak another look. Garak, on the other hand, did give the impression of searching for something other than a meal. Reg, one of Quark's Ferengi waiters, had hurried over to him. Judging by the tenseness of Garak's posture and Reg's cringing, it wasn't an amiable encounter, which in itself was unusual for Garak and enough to alarm Quark. Sighing, he went over to sort out his one remaining customer for kanar.
"Now I know overbooking is a valued Ferengi tradition," Garak said when Quark came closer, "but I am afraid I must insist."
His voice carried the usual blend of pleasantry and sarcasm, but the look in the cool blue eyes was distinctly unamused. Reg hurried over to Quark and hastily explained that there was no table booked for Dr. Bashir and Mr. Garak.
"As the good Doctor told me the other day he would make the reservations, I rather doubt that," Garak said. "He does have a photographic memory, after all."
He also had not made any reservations for a table, which Quark, who had gone over the lunch bookings in an attempt to cheer himself up after Jadzia had left, was reasonably sure about. But it wouldn't have done to say this out loud. You didn't have to be a spy, an expert in decrypting, or even a security officer to figure out that one, Quark thought. Bashir and Garak had spent less time together before the war as Bashir spent more and more time with Chief O'Brien, but they had kept their lunch appointments till the Federation left the station. Now, Garak clearly wanted to resume the habit, and Bashir obviously had just plain forgotten. And Ziyal wasn't around any longer as an alternative. Quark told himself that it was just because he didn't want someone whom he had once hired as an assassin to get any ideas for taking out his bad mood on innocent barkeepers, and turned on the unfortunate Reg.
"You idiot," he said. "Of course the Doctor had a table booked."
"But..." Reg protested, open-mouthed.
"I'm going to take it out of your salary," Quark hissed and gestured to the table where Jake and Nog were sitting, guzzling vile root beer and happily chatting with each other. "Now tell that nephew of mine that he's supposed to help in times like this, and then prepare the table for Mr. Garak."
Garak gave him a look as Reg shuffled off. Quark shrugged. "Rule of Acquisition 57," he said. "Good customers are as rare as latinum - treasure them. Nog may have been corrupted by Starfleet, but he still knows his rules."
"Young people. You never know," Garak said slowly, as they watched a puzzled Jake and an angry Nog rise and stomp away from the table, "what they forget these days."
Quark spent the next ten minutes checking on other customers, with a call to sickbay placed in between. As he passed Garak's table again with spice pudding in addition to the kanar, Garak surprised him by grasping his wrist after Quark had put down the pudding.
"Sit," he said.
"I'm working," Quark protested.
"After that rather condescending show of pity," Garak said tersely, "you might as well spare one or two minutes of your charming company."
No good deed ever goes unpunished, Quark thought and cursed himself for a fool. He should have known Garak would see through it, and not appreciate the effort. And it wasn't as if Garak's patronage was that important, anyway. In truth, Quark had no idea why he had felt compelled to intervene in order to spare Garak's feelings. It certainly didn't have to do with any sense of kinship, just because watching Jadzia with Worf after the conversation earlier today put him in an odd mood. Still, he sat down.
"I heard some items left by the more recent guests might have found their way into your possession," Garak said.
"You and Captain Sisko both," Quark replied, immediately on his guard. "It still doesn't mean I have them."
This time, the smile on Garak's face actually reached his eyes. "Oh, I would never suggest such a thing," he said. "And I'm sure that even if you had, you would be solely motivated by the desire to return them to their former owners."
"Hm," Quark said.
"Such a noble enterprise would provide a marvellous opportunity to maintain some old friendships," Garak said. "Or to create new ones. After all, disenchantment with the Dominion should be setting in by now."
"If such items were to find their way back to their old owners, I'm sure there would be some conversation," Quark confirmed cautiously. Just then, he saw Odo entering, and stiffened. Odo looked around, but if he hoped or feared to find Kira here, he was sure to be disappointed. Given that there was a safe distance between the replimat and the security office, as opposed to Quark's Bar and the security office, Quark could have told him which one Kira would pick.
Or maybe Odo was here to investigate the same thing Garak was asking about.
Following Quark's gaze, Garak nodded at Odo, who by now must have seen all there was to see, but had not moved.
"The good Constable seems to be out of sorts," he said neutrally. "He hasn't yelled at you yet, and there doesn't appear to be a social engagement waiting for him, either."
"Such a pity," Quark returned, and the renewed bitterness, rising from his stomach, made him long for some Eelwasser. "Not two days ago, he was about to become king of the universe. Must be real tough, being stuck with us lowly mortals again."
Garak's eyeridges shot up, and Quark wished he hadn't said anything. After all, Kira had told everyone what was in the official report; that the female Founder had incapacitated Odo during the time of Rom's sabotage, that this had been the reason why Rom got captured. If it had been anything else, in a time of war between the Federation and the Dominion, Odo might well end up in a prison cell himself for however long it would take for the Dominion to win or the Federation to pull off another miracle and claim victory itself. As angry as he was, Quark didn't want that.
"It must be the fact you didn't water your kanar for once," Garak said, "for I could swear I hear a case of disappointed hero worship."
"I never water my kanar," Quark said, insulted, rose, and deliberately added, "and you should know. Judging by how drunk you were that time when Dr. Bashir had to get you out of my bar."
Garak inclined his head as if to acknowledge a hit. Odo was leaving again, yellow back straight as ever, so Quark felt free to get himself a drink of Eelwasser after all. He could hear the Klingons starting with another song as he was rummaging among the bottles behind the bar and wondered whether he should charge them extra for the headache they were giving him when he spotted Bashir entering, hair uncombed and looking somewhat bedraggled in general. With an impatient gesture, he made a motion towards Garak's table.
Heroes, Quark thought as Bashir made his way towards Garak. Who needed them anyway?