"This is so ridiculous," Damar muttered, picking his teeth absentmindedly.
Dukat looked at him, and slapped him in the back, near the shoulder blades. "Oh, Damar," he joked. "Can you not just relax for one moment?"
Damar managed to - just about - ignore his commanding officer's challenging gaze. "There's no reason for me to relax," he answered gruffly.
"If its any consolation," Weyoun announced cheerfully. "I think this is tremendous fun." He beamed.
Dukat noticed the Vorta's incredibly wide smile. "At least one of you two does," he murmured in annoyance.
The high street was busy. Very, very busy. As the three of them ambled their way nonchalantly through the myriad of people; of all different kinds of species, they couldn't help but be drawn to the vivid colours and displays which were all around them.
The Vorta, of course, had no need whatsoever for such a bustling and involving centre for their communities. What would be the point in that? That, Weyoun didn't really know, and he doubted he ever would.
The Cardassians, of course, had town centres, city blocks, shuttle stations, landing pads, popular meeting points. However, it was still very much on the other end of the design spectrum, when compared with Terran design. The architecture of the Spoonheads consisted mainly of sharp turns, parallel edges. It's colours were majorly dull; browns and maroons, with white being a rarity.
During his abundance of free time on Bajor doing 'good deeds', Dukat knew what beauty was. Concerning both woman and architecture. The skies on Bajor were so very vivid: the troubled people and lifestyles completely opposite from the beautiful landscapes. Well, the once beautiful landscapes, as Gul Dukat would so often be reminded, not least by Major Kira.
Dukat was snapped out of his bewildering reminiscence by Weyoun. Unsurprisingly. "Dukat?" the Vorta asked expectantly. "Stop daydreaming."
Dukat, at first, said very little. He simply shot a glower in the clone's direction. "I was not daydreaming," he snapped.
"You were," Damar added playfully, in a seemingly better mood than one that he was in earlier on.
Weyoun nodded in stern, but plainly amused agreement. "Meh," he decided, with a slight movement of his right hand, symbolising dismissal.
Dukat harrumphed and pointlessly straightened his cuirass. The useless movement caught Damar's already weary attention. "Lets just get on with it," he muttered loudly.
Being quite obviously happy for the distraction, Gul Dukat nodded. He picked up the pace, and Weyoun and Damar walked by his side, looking up at him every now and then.
"Where are we even going to go?" Damar muttered under his breath, looking around.
Weyoun was too busy to even notice Damar's question. He was craning his neck over the promptly building crowd, trying desperately to take in all of the new, exciting, strange sights which were always all around him. One moment, his curiosity would bring him over to an odd-looking shop display. The next moment, he would be found staring at some holo-movie poster. Sometimes, he would even be watching intently some group of people, human or otherwise, as they engaged in social interaction. That is, of course, until one member of the entourage happened to catch sight of the little Vorta staring at them.
"Something to eat?" Dukat suggested. "All I've had is some taspar this morning." He frowned. "I'm a little hungry."
Thoughtfully, Damar nodded. "Sure. Why not?" He yanked Weyoun around, who, for one moment, bore a rather perplexed expression. The Vorta got his bearings and then proceeded to follow Dukat and Damar as they continued their little trip about the small town.
Weyoun had never seen quite so many flashing lights. Whooping inhabitants. Bright colours. Blue skies. Such a variety of people and moods, shops and ideologies. Kerrill Prime was certainly starting to seem very, very different. They were polar opposites, in fact.
"This looks acceptable," Dukat observed, stopping to scrutinise the outside of the building beside which they stood.
Damar frowned, the ridges around his greying blue eyes almost drawing together. He wasn't convinced. "A cafeteria?" he asked, incredulous.
Dukat nodded slowly, sternly. "Why not?" He shrugged and then faced Damar properly. "We don't always need to go to a bar, you know."
Suddenly starting to appear a little uncomfortable with the present situation, Damar shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Yes, thank you," he replied, a hint of condescension glinting in his reply.
Wryly, Dukat looked at him. He ambled in through the sliding doors of the cafeteria, and the other Cardassian and the Vorta soon followed him. Promptly, they reached the till of the shop. Dukat stopped at the menu sign. He rubbed his chin in half-thought. Having made up his mind, he picked out a pastry and studied it. "What in the name of the Prophets is this?" he remarked, perplexed and amused by the foodstuff in his hands. Shrugging, he put it onto his newfound tray. If it were poison, though, why anyone would want to poison him was beyond Dukat, then he would give it to Weyoun to test it.
"Excuse me," he called over the counter. "Don't you have any Cardassian food?" He completed his query.
The cashier shook her head. "No, sorry," she quickly replied. She brushed a strand of dirty blonde hair from out of her face with the back of her hand. "It's in high demand. Our next shipment won't be in until Tuesday."
Dukat shrugged and then thought no more of it. "No matter," he said simply, with a dismissive, brief wave of his hand.
Weyoun had, in the meantime, selected something for himself. He proffered it to Dukat. "I fail to see the point of this exercise," he declared. "I can't taste food." He could only detect texture. Sometimes, though, Weyoun did find himself actually becoming jealous of other species who were actually able to detect and use such senses. Still, as he had to continually remind himself, it was the Founders who had made him who he was. He was not one to question the work and choices of gods.
Dukat nodded, not really listening, as always, to the Vorta diplomat's words. He, instead, studied the item Weyoun had picked up. It was small and hard, orange in colour. It smelled quite strong, but of what, he did not know. It was, even more peculiarly, shaped like a humanoid. It's eyes were drawn on crudely, amusingly, with some sort of gelatinous substance. How idiotic, Dukat thought to himself. It reminded him of the Female Founder, but he didn't dare tell Weyoun that; he did not want the Vorta to have a tantrum in such a public place.
Hovering stupidly behind the two of them, Damar was sighing. He was constantly glancing around himself. Though, no one could blame him. He was a Cardassian - and not just any Cardassian - Gul Dukat's second in command. And, he was in a room surrounded almost entirely by humans and members of other Federation species.
"Aren't you hungry, Damar?" Weyoun asked, smiling innocently as usual.
Damar glared at him. Stiffly, he shook his head. "No," he replied in a gruff tone of voice. He considered, and then added, "But, perhaps, I could do with a drink."
Weyoun stepped back, after looking at Damar curiously for a short while. Damar stepped forward, so that he was now stood where Weyoun had been mere seconds ago.
Dukat met his gaze. "Yes...?" the Gul began expectantly.
"I'll just have the, uh..." He stopped, thinking. He scanned the small room interior, until his watchful eyes came across the menu board. He read it through quietly. "Just.. Anything," he then decided.
Dukat nodded, looking perplexed for a short while. What about water? he though mockingly of his first officer.
After the food had been ordered, they located an appropriate place to sit, with the help of Weyoun. They each took their seats. "That is a hell of a lot of latinum," Dukat muttered to himself, glaring angrily at the bill.
Weyoun, obviously, had no idea what he was talking about. Currency was such a ridiculous notion. He had already tucked into his gingerbread man.
Damar fingered the bottle in which his drink was, feeling the weight of it in each hand. Finally, he swallowed a few mouthfuls. He pulled a face as the cold liquid ran down his throat. "Ugh," he said in disgust. Elderflower, really?
"Damar." Weyoun looked up at him, having finished his 'meal'. "It does look odd seeing you without Kanar being within walking distance."
Damar met his comment with a stern glare. He knocked back yet another gulp of the curious liquid. It was cold and the bubbles were quickly dissipating and was the colour of a Klingon battle cruiser.
Dukat, too, had started to eat his interesting pastry. He was flicking through files from Cardassia's Detapa Council on his PADD, being careful to shield the display from any passing waitresses or nosey customers.
"When will we be taking Deep Space Nine?" Damar asked Dukat.
"At the rate at which Gul Dukat is planning the attacks," Weyoun answered instead. "I'd say: when you stop with the Kanar."
Words could not describe how much Damar hated Weyoun. A scowl would not suffice.