"I don't know why you insisted on coming here," Dukat declared dismissively, rolling his blue eyes.
The Vorta beamed at him and simply shrugged his small shoulders. Looking the Gul straight in the eye, he said jovially, "I like games."
Dukat harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest; it wasn't the first time his uniform cuirass had gotten in the way. He smirked.
Weyoun continued his perplexed gaze in the direction of Dukat, and then finally went back to the matter at hand. That is, if you could actually call it a 'matter'. He stared down the machine that was set before him, the curiosity brimming in his purple eyes.
Sat on a metal chair behind the two squabbling aliens, was Damar. Clutching his ubiquitous glass of Kanar, he frowned at the sight. Prophets, was he bored right now.
Damar had never been a patient man; never one to keep his true feelings bottled up. "Look," he said harshly. "Can you just play the damn game?"
Weyoun span around, the Vorta's piercing, violet eyes concentrating hard on him. Weyoun's brows knitted together. "Have patience, Damar," he said warningly.
Pfft, Damar thought to himself scathingly. Was that supposed to be a threat? Shaking his head and laughing quietly, he drank a little more of his delightful Kanar.
Finally, it seemed, Weyoun had tired of teasing Dukat and Damar with his constant waylaying and dithering about. He stretched his fingers, interlacing them, and the bones clicked. Smiling with a great degree of ill-deserved self-satisfaction, he let his gaze fall upon the machine in front of him.
Dukat sighed. Heavily. Harshly. "Weyoun," he said firmly. "Put in the token."
Fumbling about in his pockets, the clone pulled out the green, hexagonal token. He brought it up to his face for a moment, studying it closely. He was intrigued. "How very interesting," he announced, his eyes full of wonder.
Still gulping down his Kanar, Damar groaned. "Do as Dukat told you," he said gruffly.
Over his shoulder, but clearly not being bothered enough to full turn around, Weyoun shot him a withering look. "I think you're forgetting something, my dear Damar," he said with a false smile. "I am yours and Dukat's superior. You cannot order me around."
A muscle in Damar's jaw twitched and he pursed his lips, ready to deliver to the Vorta some incredibly rude comeback, but he thought otherwise when he caught sight of Dukat's disapproving look. "Of course," Damar muttered.
Gleefully, Weyoun nodded. He looked, again, at the token that he was still fingering with such intense intrigue. At last, the time came when he began to lose interest in the apparently fascinating inanimate ephemera. He searched the machine for someplace where he could deposit the object. Dukat, arms still crossed over his cuirassed chest, pointed a slender finger at the coin slot. Weyoun looked at him curiously for a fraction of a second, before getting distracted by a new song coming onto the sound system.
"This is odd," he observed, craning his neck up.
Looking down on him, Dukat frowned. "Weyoun," he reminded him
"Oh, yes," the Vorta said realisingly, placing the token into the coin slot. A stupidly broad smile played on his lips as he waited for something to happen.
"I'm gonna go over to the bar," Damar announced, after waiting barely a nanosecond for the machine to respond to the recently deposited token. Dukat glowered at his second in command, as if to say, 'Don't leave me with him'.
Smirking, Damar picked up his glass and swallowed the last droplets of the tar-like beverage. He carried it over to the bar and returned moments later with another full glass. At least, it would have been full, had he not taken a swig of it on the short journey back to the arcade.
He resumed his seating position, to see Dukat leaning wearily on the side of the machine, whilst Weyoun giggled childishly for some undisclosed reason.
"Haven't you won yet?" Damar asked Weyoun, his tone questioning and amused.
Weyoun seemed to ignore him. His hands were poised on the controls, one on the joystick, the other on an adjoining keypad. Flashing lights adorned the top of the machine, with fluorescent colours as decoration. It actually surprised Dukat that the little Vorta wasn't more amused by the bright hues.
Weyoun moved the joystick with his left hand and concentrated his vision on the mechanical hand as it traversed the transparent container. Founders, Weyoun thought, why could you not give my people better vision? Straining his eyes, he could see better, but only by a tiny margin.
"Will you stop breathing down my neck?" Weyoun snapped at the Cardassian.
For a moment, Dukat looked taken aback. Quickly, though, he retorted, "Perhaps if you actually won instead of dithering, I wouldn't have an opportunity to breathe down your neck."
Frowning momentarily, he let that comeback slip. He leant forward, his forehead almost brushing against the window on the machine. Squinting and staring, his hands moving delicately on the controls, Weyoun managed to get the crane to latch on to something
Dukat leant in and stared at the crane arm. "Now, bring it forward," he directed Weyoun.
The diplomat cast him an unsure look.
"I was only trying to help," Dukat told him, before turning his attention back to the game.
Appearing unconvinced with Dukat's short argument for a small amount of time, Weyoun considered. He carried out the move that the Gul had suggested. He heard a clanking noise as the thing on the end of the crane hook fell into the delivery tube and it came out of the machine. Weyoun hunkered down and picked out the object. A toy. He smiled at it, at the same time also looking troubled and confused. Why can't we Vorta appreciate aesthetics? he wondered, almost... sadly.
Dukat thwacked him on the shoulder playfully. "Well done, Weyoun," he announced. "Now, lets leave."
Weyoun nodded but kept his steadfast gaze on the toy. He smiled approvingly. If he could appreciate aesthetics, he would have certainty labelled it as cute.
Damar leapt to his feet and downed the rest of his Kanar. "Can we go now?"