Note: So anyone following me on FB or tumblr may have seen the note. Ended up leaving the chapter at work last week not quite finished so I just let it go since I had so much other stuff to to work on. Back in the normal swing of things and there were a few bits I needed to flesh out anyway so it's all good. I'm super excited to be introducing this new arc/new character (but really an old familiar character :)) at the same time. A brief warning for some random rambling about marijuana in the Federation and on Westworld as well. Thank you all for your encouragement and support and C&C is always welcome!


There is no doubt about it; there's something wrong with Garak's brain. He doesn't need Julian's associate to confirm that for him. The mere fact that he's standing in front of Jadzia, carefully arranging the high collar of her dress with little thought to anything but putting his mouth to her neck and unfastening those ornate little buttons is all the proof he needs. Julian had finally tired of his distraction while adjusting his tie and let him know that while he was more than happy to indulge in a bit of delay, Garak was the one who insisted they abandon their easy search pace in favor of something far more aggressive. And to that, Garak was about to retort that of course he of all people wouldn't forget that except that it was rather difficult to refute the point when his fingers were quite clearly making a study of Julian's chest through the thin fabric of the shirt. He had, in some wilder moments of imagination wondered if he hadn't somehow possessed some latent genetic material now causing these wildly out of place urges in his normally ordered mind but he'd dismissed that nonsense almost as soon as he'd thought it.

"You know what it likely is," Julian says from behind him. Somehow Garak can feel his eyes, a study in amusement as Garak realizes belatedly that he's been tasting Jadzia's perfume in the air this entire time as if he were about to-

"I'm all ears, Julian," Garak says forcing himself to take step back.

"Well this is only a theory, mind you, and I can only speculate on the differences in the Cardassian and human brain but-"

"But?" Garak interrupts with an impatient huff.

"It appears you may be suffering an impulse control disorder." Garak looks at him feeling his jaw drop just a slight bit before he claps it shut again a deep frown on his face. He'd almost sooner hear that he has scale rot like old Legate Aket who was rumored to have ingested several of his own neck ridges having fallen into his stew while he hosted a state function. Garak absently rubs his neck at the thought, a shiver up his spine. No, for all the inherent handicap that this new development proposes, it's still preferable to that old curse.

"An impulse control disorder?" he repeats carefully, just to be sure that in his infirmary he actually heard correctly.

Julian nods.

"It's a bit difficult to tell since there are clear differences in Cardassian thought patterns, mannerisms, and habit but I think I've gotten to know you well enough… at least the you that you present for scrutiny…" Julian says giving him a look that Garak returns with a beaming acceptance. "that I can see where your behaviors are definitely off that pattern." Julian's look clearly also says he hasn't ruled out the possibility that Garak isn't faking this entire bit for some nefarious plot or another. Ah, would that that were the case. "Now it doesn't seem to be progressive, at least as far as I can tell. But I've definitely noticed that there are moments where you exhibit unusual impatience, unusual…" He trails off looking as if he's trying to think of a delicate way to put it when Jadzia cuts in with a naughty little smirk.

"You're a lot more open to enjoying our company instead of working," she supplies, and as if to illustrate that point, his brain happily decides to focus on her mouth and that daring shade of violet lipstick. The dress she wears shows little skin but from the waist up that seems a moot issue, the brilliant aqua hugging her chest leaving her arms bare. The fabric practically shimmers, drawing attention just as it's meant to. He recalls that his hands slide quite easily over it and he nearly sighs at she seems to read that very thought.

"I'm not complaining, Garak," Jadzia says as a means of reassurance. Garak is not particularly reassured as he checks his pocket watch. It's nearing twenty two hundred hours. He's been restless in waiting, knowing that it will be best to begin their information gathering once the activity in Central is at its height. Julian had been chagrined to find that the man he'd been searching for hadn't been seen in a few days. It would seem that his nameless doctor contact had taken to regularly gallivanting all over the city as his housekeeper informed Julian with disapproval. That hadn't struck Garak as being particularly unusual but the degree to which it disturbed Julian was enough to raise his own suspicions. He wasn't quite sure why this was as Julian was unusually tacit on the subject. Jadzia, for her part knew little about it, but it seemed the man could frequently be found in some of the more colorful bars near the red light district. Again this bothered Julian immensely and Garak found any attempts at levity to be weakly received.

"I'm not complaining either," he says with an appreciative look at her outfit, the top snuggle fit across equally fitted gray trousers, "but on the subject of our attire, are we perhaps overdressed for the district we'll be frequenting?" It chafes him that he hasn't been able to do any investigating on his own and he doesn't enjoy having to rely on secondhand information. Julian looks at him again somewhat critically.

"I would lose the vest. Perhaps more casual trousers, boots, not those shiny shoes." Julian rolls up his sleeves and as an afterthought goes to the bathroom to finger comb some slick hair product through. He holds his arms out with a bit of a self deprecating smile. "So what do you think? Not too bad for an old man right?" Jadzia whistles appreciatively though the question was clearly directed more to Garak. He nods in response though he doesn't let his eyes linger too long on his smartly dressed paramour lest the ideas he gets run towards the counterproductive again.

"Old man? I shudder to think what that make same then, I'm sure I've still got at least a decade on you, old man indeed." He affects an air of mock affront, seeing Julian laugh.

"You weren't so old last night."

"Or the night before that."

Jadzia walks past checking her boots. He's certain that somewhere in the outfit she's fully armed. Garak doesn't envy whoever might happen to be pursuing her.

"But let's put that energy to good use. We've got a list of three places that Julian's friend frequents so I think we can cover ground quite well."

"We're not splitting up," Julian says definitively, and Garak is inclined to agree. After all, this isn't a world where they're afforded the luxury of easy and instant communication devices.

"I can take care of myself, Julian."

"As can I, but Garak is also a wanted man and if it's all the same I'd just as soon not leave him or you to your own devices." Garak isn't sure whether he should take that as a compliment or not. Here merely smiles and looks to Jadzia conspiratorially.

"Clearly, my dear, we're not fit to look after ourselves."

"You're da right you're not." Julian is completely unrepentant for that slight as he walks to the coffee table and retrieves a map of the city. "We're not under any time limit. There's no need to rush. I can tell you that you're in no danger of your condition worsening for the present. Now I did leave a message with his housekeeper but I haven't heard back and she said that he may very well not return for several more days."

"Now if we start here at the Wet Whistle-"

"Wait." Garak holds up a hand feeling that touch of intuition hitting him a bit belatedly. "How can you be certain that he wouldn't be staying at any number of inns such as this or even keeping company with a partner?"

"The latter is certainly possible, but I'm sure he'll want to be ah… getting the most of the human experience as possible."

"The human…"

"You're not serious!" Jadzia exclaims. "He's here?!"

"He's been here for some time now. Ever since the trial went the way that it did but you can understand why it's imperative that as few people know as possible."

Garak listens to them politely discuss the man they both seem to know, growing more curious by the moment.

"…has to stand out. It's not every day that you encounter a-"

"So we'll hit the 'Wet Whistle" first, Julian says loudly, obviously and Garak nearly adopts that human gesture of exasperation in rolling his eyes. He stops just short of that.

"Yes, of course, we absolutely mustn't let the insidious Cardie spy know anything about the man we're looking for.

It's a bit petulant but he finds that he doesn't particularly care. Julian looks about to say something but stops. Instead he smirks at him in rather obnoxious superior sort of way that makes Garak long to clear that expression from his face- preferably with his mouth.

"I wouldn't worry about being kept in the dark for too long, Garak. You'll meet him soon enough." And with that, Julian gives him what is- in his opinion- a rather patronizing pat on the shoulder before grabbing his garish black cloak to leave.


What amazes Garak the most about the night in Central is just how bright it is. It's more remnant of one of the wild stations he's seen offworld with the constant lights and signs. It's the first time that he's ever seen the aether in a color that's not blue, the city awash with both bright aether lights and gas lamps lining the carefully set in brick streets. He's certain he appears like a tourist, head turning in all directions to see everyone's elaborate costumes and dress from the more traditional historic wear to the exotic metal noveau as he's heard it coined; those fashion plates a marriage of metalwork and cloth to an exotic effect. He attempts a few times to reign in such ridiculous impulses but after the fifth attempt, he surrenders himself to taking in as much of the scene as he can while they walk to the blandly named "Wet Whistle". The building appears almost out of a cloud of shrubbery and black metal gates- possibly something as impractical as iron but he isn't sure. In any case, the gates are open wide, a motley crew of individuals seated at patio table outside enjoying a live band playing on a raised stone dais.

At least Garak imagines it's supposed to be what passes for music. The lows of the bass nearly set his teeth on edge and he winces as they pass a table comprised of both Ferengi and humans playing cards of all things. The table itself is unique with an array of mirrored glasses surrounding it, two men standing on either side of all players. From what Garak observes, as Jadzia stops to chat with the group, the aim seems to be one of sleight of hand rather than winning by traditional card rules.

"The winner is the one who cheats the best," Julian murmurs to his ear, hands in his pockets. Garak nods, watching as Jadzia assist one Ferengi in particular in passing an ace to his partner, under the guise of saying hello to two old friends. She smiles impishly as she rejoins them, Garak about to ask what the point of that even was when a winner is announced and she shows several strips of latinum for her troubles. Ah, so it would seem then that our drinks will be covered for this evening, Garak thinks with an admiration to her cunning. There's an extra strut to her steps as she walks inside, and as a few heads turn. He thinks at first it's because of the bounty but there are already a few men laughing raucously about it, telling her she can add it to the interstellar list that's surely growing. Clearly, fugitive or not, her reputation precedes her.

And already she's off once their feet hit the wooden floor, waving to the bartender- a Denobulan man by the look of him. They seem to know each other, though Garak has learned with Jadzia the odds are equally set for either scenario. She's at the bar, a long wooden affair positioned along the wall in front of a steep staircase already ordering some impossibly large spiraled glass, the man expertly pouring a kaleidoscope of gold, red, and some silver something Garak swears is mercury but couldn't possibly be. He has a brief flash of concern for the task at hand, but he can recall her playing tipsy to her advantage back in Indigo on more than one occasion and is sure that she knows what she's doing. He takes a look around the room as two female Klingons call out to her that she better watch lest they decide to collect on her bounty. Yes, just let them try… Though they seem to be on good terms and Garak takes the chance to look around the room. It's a smaller space than he expected but judging from the size of the building from the outside along with the lights that he saw hidden behind curtains, he's sure there are others. Not holosuites but some other themes? Ah, patience, Elim, you'll likely be exploring them all soon enough.

"We're going to have our work cut out for us tonight, aren't we?" he says to Julian blandly. Julian just shakes his head already looking to the other corners of the room they're in. There are a few tables arranged with other games, Tongo, Vulcan Chess, even a rather beautiful Kotra set up. He can see money baskets rigged to timers- locking baskets at that- to allow patrons the pleasure of extending their table rental with slips of latinum for play with a bell set to ring loudly at the end of time. Clever. Again one wall is not a table but a stool where a Lethean watches the lot of them, not needing to try particularly hard to look imposing. Adequate security as well at least for the tables. No one appears to be eating anything other than those salted snack legumes and some massive multicolored beverages. He recognizes the metal contraption behind the bar as some elaborate soda water machine and hopes he can actually get a real drink. Garak almost goes over to three seated Cardassians, seeing his kinsmen engaged in a rousing game; he'd never before seen a three way arrangement in kotra but then again he supposes that it's theoretically possible. Garak drifts a few steps, seeing Julian scanning, not seeming to find who he's looking for, turning his attention to a door at the back of the room and double doors off to the left of the warmly lit large.

"We may need to split up after all," Julian says as Jadzia turns to them with a quick signal of her fingers. "He's been here this evening, but he might not still be. I doubt he'd be in the basement but then again, he hasn't quite been himself lately."

"The… basement?" Garak asks still feeling the urge to sit down for a drink and conversation with real people. Now that was an uncharitable thought…. He sighs, Julian taking no notice.

"You go through that door in the back- the dance hall and then there's a darker room, they smoke but it's well ventilated."

"Smoke?" Garak asks, recalling the few times he's been onworld seeing a myriad of different paper tubes being inhaled with an exhale of some foul stench. He hadn't thought much about it until now.

"Yes, some old Earth custom- absolutely vile- terrible for your health, they're the throwback from the vaping you see offworld but…" Julian trails off. Of course- no electricity, no batteries, no vaping devices. Garak is rather thankful he's never become dependent on that chemical

"It's amazing your species survived to warp capabilities." Julian smiles.

"You wouldn't be the first to make that observation." He points back as if the walls separating the rooms don't exist. "But the smoking room is some stuffy couch den and they're usually all sorts of things that take place in the dark, not grass, grass is a separate room for well… obvious reasons but-"

"Grass?" Somehow that's a term that's escaped him though Indigo is hardly cosmopolitan. Julian looks thoughtful. "I don't know if it's banned in the Union. Had quite a time on Vulcan, if I recall there was quite a heated debate on the matter and I think they decided to neither encourage nor discourage its use…"

"Oh, you're talking about the Tet'sa vape!" Garak finally nods in understanding. The name adapted from the human acronym THC. Garak could recall being confused by the human love of acronyms at first, wondering how some of those improbably words were supposed to be pronounced. It seemed the fellow who coined the term "Tet'sa had similar difficulty adapting that acronym to Cardassian language. Still, it was far more melodious than "grass". "Really, it's a plant? If you ask Central Command, half of those old fools swear it's some insidious Federation mind control drug engineered by Section 31."

Julian laughs at that.

"Hardly. Though I tend not to indulge myself, steadies my hand but makes my mind wander something dreadful because of the ah…" Julian coughs, both of them knowing he's alluding to his enhancements. He seems to stop a moment, eyes brightening. "But you know we are on somewhat of a vacation and if we don't find Data tonight…" Julian scratches his chin thoughtfully then stops, suddenly realizing what he just said. There's a quick whirl of his head that would be comical were it not for the look of horror in his eyes, having just the cat out of the bag so to speak. At first, Garak isn't sure that he's supposed to recognize that name at all but then it comes to him quite vividly. He'd been on Romulus at the time, undercover as a gardener, but still, the news had reached him as vast reaching as its consequences were. The humans had called it the new trial of the century- an allusion that meant little to him- when it was ruled that the android serving Starfleet, Lieutenant Commander Data was not in fact a sentient being. His target seemed to find that amusing, though he'd little to laugh about when Garak had arranged for him to "accidentally" find himself trapped under the deadly manchineel tree that he kept during a storm. The android had disappeared, the ruling overturned nearly a decade later, and his target was too disfigured to be properly identified without genetic records.

"I didn't say that," Julian blurts out as poor a liar as ever. Garak merely smiles, putting an arm around his shoulder, knowing full well the implications of an android still functioning onworld. There's no way it should be possible but the very fact that it is alerts Garak to other possibilities as well.

"Don't worry, my dear, your secret is safe with me." And for Julian to waste those possibilities on something so mundane as a medical matter… Julian looks at him sideways, the lenses sadly blocking what he's sure is a brilliant reflection of light in his eyes.

"Whatever you're thinking, Garak, trust me. It's a bad idea." Oh I'll be the judge of that, my dear.


Note: Anyone guess who it is?