Notes: A shorter chapter this week to set the upcoming stage. Gonna try and work on kicking the pacing up again so wish me luck. Poor Garak. forced to spend his days cooped up in a lavish hotel with only Julian and Jadzia for company. Yeah, totally don't feel bad for him. Spoiler alert, we may start to see some residents of Indigo sooner than you think. Thank you all for your support and reading! C&C is always welcome.

"I'm not sure that I want to know what's on your face or why you're wearing it." Julian shoots Jadzia a look as she innocently sips her lemonade. "Though I think I only need one guess as to who suggested it." Garak looks out at him from behind the fake frames still struggling to breathe properly from the prosthetic over his nose. He also finds the synthetic fibers of the "mustache" which is attached to be somewhat distracting against his skin. He too looks at Jadzia, absolutely certain that he doesn't trust that look of innocence as far as he can throw it.

"It was Yoshi's suggestion," she answers with a small smile as Julian looks at him again with a shake of his head, a laugh working its way up.

"God, what I wouldn't give to be in Federation space right now to get a picture of this…"

"Does it really look so ridiculous?" Garak glances at his reflection in the looking glass on the wall behind him not seeing a terrible amount of difference between his own made up visage and half the humans milling about on the street. Julian sighs and swipes the gag glasses, nose and all, from his face.

"I guarantee you that you're going to attract far more attention in such a ludicrous getup than you ever will just walking around normally."

"Really, Julian? Are you forgetting the looks that have been following us since we left East Port? Or perhaps the overzealous lot of bounty hunters who forced the train to a stop midway here. Ah, but wait, I believe there's something else that I'm forgetting…" Garak takes a few exaggerated steps, recalling the complete fiasco it had been even getting to Central. Julian sighs, taking his tea from the small dining table of their shared room, sitting down.

"We handled it, didn't we?" he asks calmly. Garak wonders what's in the tea that he's drinking to keep him so calm, but as he looks at Jadzia's relaxed and easy air sitting in the chair with the loosely belted robe, he supposes it's that human custom referred to as the morning after. The both of them are strutting around as they're on some sort of decadent vacation and not hurriedly making their way Julian's mysterious friend under the cover of darkness in the hopes of further investigating his possibly brain malady. There's also the matter of Garak's own investigation into the Cardassians trying to murder him, but he's had little to go on without returning to Cardassia Prime.

The light streaming in through the open window is almost sickening in its cheeriness and Garak steps away, only now realizing what a foolish action it was of him to stand there in the first place where a bullet could so easily pierce his skull.

"As loathe as I am to even think, let alone say it, it would seem that the visually challenged residents of your delightful planet all seem inexorably convinced that I bear a perfect resemblance to that disgusting visual rendition of a Cardassian crossed with a regnar- and a particularly foul looking regnar at that."

"Luckily for you, we happen to find foul looking regnar rather inviting," Julian teases with a smirk, taking one of the rich pastries- some delightfully sweet fruit filled spiral that's iced generously. It calls to him, really, but yesterday's stomach ache warns him away and instead towards the thick porridge instead that occupies his place. Jadzia swears the kitchen recommended it for Cardassian digestion; he's not certain how comfortable he is with her discussing his digestive issues with strangers. Garak cannot prove it of course, but he swears the delicacy of his stomach has to be the fault of that Kironide exposure. Julian had postulated it was the subconscious aversion to the "cheese" inside the danish. But it hadn't seemed like any bovine fermentation that Garak had ever tasted. Garak cannot help but watch as Jadzia snatches a piece of that pastry unrepentantly from Julian's plate- the last red one, he notes- with slight irritation at their inactivity.

"I'd thought," he continues determined not to be distracted by two scantily clad humans playing with their food, "that I might venture out and try to gather more information on the situation and your contact. There also seems to be a fair stream of off worlders egressing and engressing at any given moment through these watering holes as close as we are to that nauseating exit gate. I cannot help but feel that we're missing out on vital chances." Garak finds himself distracted by Jadzia licking red jam from her fingers, crossing a leg. Perhaps the failing isn't theirs, but his. The sight of Julian looking up at him over those familiar spectacles, hair damp and tussled from a shower is equally unnervingly distracting. It's also quite possibly more of that mental malaise or some other brain disease making it difficult to think of anything but crawling back to bed with his two devious accomplices. The bed is comfortable, after all and quite large. Julian had requested some "tri" something or other room two nights ago with a duck of his head and a cough that made Garak quite curious. And that curiosity was quickly assuaged when they entered, seeing the obscenely massive bed that lay beyond the neat sitting room. Garak had immediately questioned how they could possibly afford such accommodations when Jadzia cheerfully informed them she had easy access to a bank account here. Not necessarily her bank, mind, but Garak had left that alone in light of the beautiful room and the blissfully warm bathtub.

It would seem to him, however, that the draw of luxurious city comforts is severely impairing their judgment. It makes him once more irrationally suspicious, but again, that too is likely not the result of mere caution but verging into unsafe paranoia. Granted, it's always been that innate sense of question of his surroundings that has kept him alive for so long, but in his current state, he has been forced to acknowledge that he might not be able to fully trust that instinct. It's unsettling on the whole. Julian's silent study of him is also making him bristle, knowing that physician's mind is working to deduce some malady real or otherwise to explain away "the lizard's irrational mood swings" as he'd overheard to Jadzia. At least he thinks that's what he heard. Garak sits down heavily on the sofa with a glower at Julian.

"Please, spare me any more clinical hypothesizing, I don't think that I'm feeling up for that analytical medical scrutiny right now." Julian shakes his head as he takes another sip of tea.

"I was just thinking," he informs Garak with that maddening calm reserved for those fragile minds that might break at any moment, "That you look rather fetching in that attire.

Garak looks down at himself, not exactly inclined to disagree- it was nice to actually make use of some of the finer vanity garments he'd packed on a whim when they went west. After all, a trek in the desert was no excuse for poor appearance and he wanted to be prepared should he need to look a little less roguish. He's never been particularly inclined to blue, but the brilliant blue velvet is a rather nice accent to his eyes. He's grown somewhat tired of the starched white shirts that some of the real gung ho period enthusiasts wear like uniforms and gone in favor of a pale gold. He's quite fond of it, having tailored the piece itself, though he found the pants to be more snug than he'd have expected. Neither Julian nor Jadzia seemed to have any complaints. But the appreciative leers of his lovers aside- Lovers? Guls what has he gotten himself into- the subject of his attire is not particularly productive. He drums his fingers irritably on his leg, going to pick up his notebook from the coffee table when he notices with a flicker of the upper part of his eye that the two of them exchanges a quick whispered conversation.

That gesture by Julian to the stack of news clippings and other papers catches his attention and Julian is already up as well. It's a mad scramble that ensues as Garak begins flinging papers looking for whatever it is he assumes that he's not supposed to see while Julian attempts to grab them and presumably hurl them into some imagined fire. Perhaps he'll stuff them down his shirt leading to an enjoyable little game but this time, Garak is quicker than those augmented reflexes as he catches sight of a print with Jadzia's picture on it. His hands snatch it just as Julian abandons good sense and lunges over the coffee table at him. Garak half turns, paper still within his line of sight as Julian comes crashing into him. His body still has a pleasant damp from the shower though Garak isn't sure that he entirely approves of that wet transferring to his clothes. He grins triumphantly, unrepentant, reading the bulletin and Julian just buries his face in Garak's shoulder with a groan.

"Carefuly, my dear, we wouldn't want Yoshi to have to fetch you yet another pair of spectacles." He thinks that Julian tells his shoulder to shuttup though he isn't sure, his attention firmly focused on that page.

"Wanted Alive:

Jadzia Dax

2500 bars Gold Pressed Latinum"

Well now, that certainly explains his reluctance to have you read it. It also explains why we've spent the last few days holed up here. But the better question is why and how. Garak turns his head, realizing that Julian seems content to continue half laying on him like a hound grown far too big for its master's lap. He sighs and appropriately scratches Julian behind the ears. There's a odd contented humming vibration and makes him smile in spite of himself. Garak sees Jadzia smiling at him a bit sheepishly.

"I am aware," Garak says feeling as if he's speaking to two children and not his peers, "that you are attempting to see to my well being and as much as that sentiment is appreciate I might remind you both that I am the master tailor. It's difficult to sew the appropriate costume without all the necessary notions and fabrics."

"Maybe we just wanted to enjoy a little time with you before returning home," Jadzia answers smartly, a smile behind that pastry. Garak can't help but chuckle.

"Ah. But there is a myriad of delights awaiting us upon our return, my possible imprisonment, your charming husband, and Julian's-"

"Julian's nothing'" is muffled into his shirt before Julian lifts a rumpled head and fogged lenses. It really strikes him in that moment that Julian is particularly, what the humans would call "kissable". Garak finds that thought to be rather disturbing.

"But you're right," Julian says while Garak debates whether or not giving himself a good knock in the head will cure him. "It's just that-"

"Don't say you didn't want to worry me," Garak declares holding up a hand. "We need to consider this carefully." He looks at the poster again. "They don't provide bounty information to civilians, do they? Not as far as the issuer?" He's certain of the answer as the two of them nod. He could use Odo in his pocket right about now.

"It's hardly matters though, does it?" Julian asks. "I mean it's pretty obvious that given the incidents we've had in the last few days getting here that the authorities or whoever else surely think we're part of some outlaw gang. I'll be surprised if I don't see my own picture up in the next few days." And what he says makes sense, of course. But that's just the beauty of it, and that's what makes Garak immediately question it. As Julian said, his own picture should be up as well. It's also quite suspect that it specifically calls for her to be brought in alive. The culture onworld might trend towards the historical where dress and mannerisms are concerned but he's noticed there's no lack of egalitarianism where conflict comes into play. The last four overzealous bounty hunters that attacked them at the transfer station held no compunctions where it came to shooting at Jadzia.

And in the end it may very well be chalked up to one of his many character failings but the mere fact that Julian is so easy to dismiss any ulterior motive is exactly why Garak is not. It is that obstinance, that reactive opposition that's given more than a few of his superiors fits over the years, but his record of success speaks for itself. And brain malady or not, Garak would willingly stake everything on this being some other subterfuge that he's yet to divine. As a matter of fact… He looks at Jadzia.

"Well, I don't profess to know all of this world's quaint little customs but could it be possible that your husband thought to take precautions to ensure that you didn't run too far?" Julian snorts. Jadzia shakes her head.

"His pride wouldn't let him do something like that, if anything he'd come here himself if he knew this is where I was. But I think you're right. I think there might be something else going on." Garak is not particularly relieved by the knowledge that any moment there may be an angry half Klingon barreling through the door. He pushes that to the side making sure to remain on alert. He hadn't gotten a good look, but Jadzia's husband hardly strikes him as a man who would be a master of disguise.

"So then who else would have reason to set a bounty for Jadzia's capture?" Julian actually appears thoughtful as he sits up and rearranges himself besides Garak. Garak misses the warmth though not the hard elbows or knee digging into him. The three of them take time to consider that, all aware that Jadzia's colorful escapades may very well have resulted in any number of individuals or even gangs, corporations or conglomerates seeking her capture. But the very convenience of that wide array of culprits coupled with the timing leads him back to his initial suspicion. And that is that it's completely related to the mysterious would be assassin. And given that-

"Well," Jadzia says, standing up with a cheerfully determined mischief. He can see whatever comes next that her mind is already made up. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" He sighs in response as she begins to detail a few of the lesser regarding places in Central that they might visit to begin information gathering once the sun goes down. Somehow, Garak had a feeling she was going to say that.