A Bolian Too Young to Die
Title: A Bolian Too Young To Die.
Series: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Pairings: Garak/Bashir implied.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 392
Warnings: Quark.
Beta: None for this one.
Feedback: Yes please.
Disclaimer: I don't own any sex-oozing Cardassians or puppy-dog-cute Doctors. Or even the concepts thereof. *sigh* Not mine. At all. Oh I only wish.
Summary: A Bolian, a Human and a Cardassian walk into a bar...
Link to this fic on Livejournal. Or if you prefer; Dreamwidth.
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This fic is also available as a podfic.
Read by: me.
Duration: 03:04 mins.
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The Bolian sitting at a single table at Quark's seemed extremely preoccupied with his view, so Quark of course seized the opportunity to swoop in and refill his drink. He paused however when he saw exactly what view had his customer so entranced.
“Pardon me Sir, but would you care for bit of friendly advice? Free of charge, no less.”
So absorbed was the Bolian that he didn't even look at Quark.
“Whatever. Just make it quick.”
Quark leaned in close.
“You see, I prefer a certain type of costumers. Live ones. Like I always say, dead costumers don't pay bills.”
This made the Bolian turn his head and fix the Ferengi with a puzzled stare.
“What are you talking about?”
“Look, I'm all for enjoying the view. That's what the dabo girls are for. And frankly, I would suggest you turn you eyes to them instead of your current target.”
Glancing back in the direction he had been looking before, the Bolian frowned.
“Why should I care? I can look at what I like.”
Quark put on a face of casual indifference.
“Sure you can. I didn't mean to interfere. It's just if it was me, I wouldn't undress someone with my eyes if I knew he was going out with a former member of the Obsidian Order.”
Quark turned to go but was stopped by a blue hand almost crushing his elbow.
“What?!”
The blue face had paled to a porridge grey and terror was painted clearly in the wide open eyes.
“See the Cardassian sitting at his table? The only one left on the station. That tailoring business he has is just a cover of course. I'm surprised you didn't know. It's old news.”
The Bolian looked like he was close to tears and Quark couldn't help but grin a little.
“Now now, it's not so bad. Come have a round of dabo. I'm sure Leeta will do her very best to entertain you.”
He patted the shocked Bolian on the back and hoisted him towards the dabo table, while sneaking a glance at the pair at the table across the room. Garak was looking at Bashir eating, with eyes not unlike those of a tiger on a grazing antilope. Shaking his head Quark mumbled to himself:
“Garak you old fool, make a damn move before you kill someone.”
End