Fic: "A Shoulder To Cry On" (first draft, in progress)
A "Julian finds someone to confide in" fic from the "When the Farsei Blooms" universe. Set after he and Garak get back to the station, having agreed that continuing to be sexually involved would be the worst possible course of action.
Title: A Shoulder To Cry On (first draft, in progress)
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 2250
Summary: Julian is hurting, but he finds someone to confide in. Told from the point of view of Tella, a Dabo girl Julian has taken up with.
WARNINGS: Adorable!Bashir and Cunning!Garak, but other than that none really.
**********************
“I don't play second fiddle to anyone, Julian.”
She was standing by the viewport in his quarters, giving him her best I take no shit from anybody look while he sat on his couch looking startled, but not half as surprised as he might have if the accusation she was making was completely unwarranted. Nevertheless he tried for a polite denial, his brows drawn together in puzzlement.
“I’m sorry, I don’t -”
Tellara Niran held up her right hand, gently but firmly interrupting him. “I’m both Betazoid and Nominian, remember?” She smiled at him fondly. “Look, we’ve had a fun time these last three weeks. You’re awfully cute and you’re really good in bed. But it’s clear that you’re in love with someone else.”
His face fell. “It is?”
She noticed that he wasn't denying it. “Painfully clear.”
After a second he sighed and rested his elbows on his knees to run the fingers of both hands into that lovely tousle of thick dark hair, his slim shoulders slumping. “Tella, I’m sorry...”
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” she said pointedly, opening her shields to get a better sense of his state of mind. Reading another person under these conditions wasn’t exactly condoned in Betazed society, but ever since she’d realized that his body was with her but his heart was somewhere else she’d been curious, and she’d been known to bend the rules in the past when her curiousity was aroused. Not something her father would have approved of, but everybody disappointed their parents at some point or another.
He sighed, and she felt a wave of complicated sorrow flow from him. “We broke it off by mutual consent. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
She had the feeling he didn’t really believe that, but wisely kept it to herself. He was hurting enough as it was, and not about having her walk out of his bedroom. Crossing to sit down beside him, she laid a compassionate hand on his shoulder. “But you still love her?”
He hesitated as if fighting an internal battle, which he was. “Him,” he said at last. Another sigh that seemed to come from the soles of his feet and she felt him struggling again. She squeezed his shoulder gently. His soft voice almost broke. “So much.”
His grief washed over her, hot and fresh, but she rode it out and sat quietly, waiting. It was widely reputed that Betazoids were natural counsellors; she’d never fancied that particular occupation, but Julian was bright and kind and she didn’t think he was the sort of person who deserved to hurt this much. She was willing to sacrifice at least the hour before her shift started at the Dabo table to let him unburden himself.
He turned his head to regard her with dark eyes - damn, he was adorable, he could still make her heart melt just with his gaze! - and she sensed as well as saw a glitter of tears not quite shed. “It’s...” A shrug and he lowered his head back into his hands. “It’s nothing. Something I should have gotten over a long time ago.”
“Who is it? Is he still on the station?”
A wave of pain. Clearly the answer was yes.
“Is he a fellow officer?”
No, clearly not.
“One of the civilians?”
Close, but not quite. She tried to think of someone on the station who wasn’t part of Starfleet but who wasn’t a plain old civvie either. Most of her time with Julian she’d been careful to keep her shields up unless they were alone and/or in bed together; that was when she’d sensed that even though he enjoyed kissing and fondling her he was missing and loving someone completely different. Thus she hadn’t been reading him while they walked around the station together running into people he knew. Who did Julian associate with who wasn’t in his own military? Major Kira? About as likely as a yemalk mating with a fessila, and besides, Julian had said the mystery lover was male. Quark? Oh Gods, no. That Cardassian tailor he had lunch with once a -?
Dabo! She quickly reviewed how Julian had talked about the tailor in the past - animated and engaged and full of admiration for his experience and his cleverness, with a quiet light shining in those gorgeous eyes, hell, once even going on and on about him when they were cuddling on her couch - and immediately decided that she’d been an idiot not to spot it sooner. Plus she’d heard from Quark that the tailor was actually a Cardassian operative, which fit the not-quite-civvie profile very neatly.
Time to take the bull by the horns. She ran her hand around to Julian’s back, just below the neck of his loose black silk shirt. “Is it that tailor friend of yours?”
“Who, Garak?” His head came up and whipped around to face her, the strength of his denial and the surge of raw emotion that accompanied it providing all the answer she needed. “Of course not! That’s ridiculous!”
She tapped her temple silently with her other hand and Julian’s outraged expression became a scowl. “I thought it was common courtesy to keep your shields up.”
“With ordinary people, yes. But we’ve been lovers.” Even though I won’t be your lover after tonight, she thought a little wistfully. She did have a distinct weakness for handsome officers, even when they were obsessed with someone other than her own fair self. “So what happened?” She began to slowly rub soothing circles in the tense spot between his shoulderblades.
"Nothing," he protested, looking at her with annoyance in his lovely eyes. She kept her hand where it was and refused to look away.
He glared. She waited patiently. She'd seen this before with him, plunging off in one direction to suddenly change course like a sorka hare with a hound on its heels. All she had to do was keep up the pursuit.
He put his head back in his hands yet again, radiating dismay. “If Commander Sisko finds out about it, my career will be over,” he hissed, but somehow Tella got the impression that there might be a silver lining to that cloud.
“Oh, come on, Julian.” She infused her tone with fond exhasperation. “You know I’ve got one of the tightest sets of lips on this station, and even though we won’t be sleeping together anymore I still want to be your friend. Now, you’ve all but told me that I’m right, so why don’t you spill the rest? I’ve got to admit I’m pretty curious. He doesn’t seem to be your type.” He glanced round at her again, so she clarified: “Older, stout and male.”
“He’s not that old," Julian insisted to the floor, "and he's certainly not stout - he just dresses that way to put people off their guard. And...”
He fell silent. She could tell that he was torn between two powerful conflicting impulses: the need to share a secret that had been quietly tearing him apart, and the need to keep that secret safe - and not only for his own sake.
Tella sighed. “Look, I like you a lot," she repeated patiently. "I’m not going to go out of my way to make life difficult for you." She thought back to the one or two remarks Quark had dropped in her presence about his fellow merchant on the Promenade. "And if half the things I’ve heard are true Garak is the kind of person that you do not make life difficult for unless you want no life at all. And he still cares about you, doesn't he? You still have lunch once a week.”
Neither of her parents' species were telepaths, but she could read the weary wave of emotion from him almost as clearly as thought: She already knows... He sat up and slumped back against the couch, letting his hands fall into his lap. "I don't know what Garak feels half the time. It's like trying to read a kotar board when you have no idea which version of the game is being played. I thought I'd learned to read him, but..." A tired little shrug.
Oh, Julian, sweetie... you've been carrying around this for a while, haven't you? She kept her hand curved warmly around the nape of his neck. She'd only been on the station for a half-week longer than she'd been going out with this pretty fellow but tomorrow she'd start asking some discreet questions. For now, however, less-than-discreet questions were in order. "How did you meet him?"
"Actually, he met me." A wistful smile of remembrance. "Almost three years ago. I was drinking Tarkalean tea in the Replimat when he came up to my table as smooth as you please and asked if he could introduce himself. I'd heard that he was -- well, more than a simple tailor, so I was surprised, and I have to admit, a little alarmed."
Tella thought of the few glimpses she'd caught of Garak, walking down the Promenade or through the doors of his shop. "He doesn't look that scary to me."
Love, admiration, a sexual thrill from Julian's end deeper and somewhat darker than any he'd ever felt with her. "Oh, he can be," Julian said with quiet feeling. "But he wasn't trying to frighten me that day I don't think, although it probably amused him no end to watch me jump. It turned that one of the reasons he approached me was to set up a line of communication to Commander Sisko concerning a Bajoran terrorist's plot here on the station, but after that incident was wrapped up we started going out to lunch on a regular basis."
[Bashir confesses a great deal to Tella, and feels better afterwards. She suggests that they continue the conversation at a later time -- she does still want to be friends with him -- and that the occasional sexual interlude would probably be a good idea as well. She knows that his time with her made him feel better and that although she can't be in a relationship with him if he doesn't love her fully, she has no problem with the idea of comfort sex from time to time.
[She feels, though, that it would be a good idea to make her intentions clear to someone else...]
Tella waited until two days after Julian’s next lunch with his tailor friend to pay a visit to Garak’s shop. It was empty when she entered and she gravitated immediately to a dress hung on a mannequin beneath a recessed display spotlight. The material was beautifully cut and sewn, layers of rich fabric sweeping from an off-the-shoulder bodice down to the floor.
She waited, pretending to study it. And perhaps fifteen seconds later she was not disappointed.
“Good afternoon, Miss... Niran, isn’t it?”
She turned to find Garak right beside her; she hadn’t even heard him emerge from the back of the shop. Another shock: she was picking up almost no emotional emanations from him whatsoever. Either he was running in virtual empathic silence or members of his species were naturally immune to both Betazoid and Nominian senses.
In any event, here he was -- Julian's great love. It was the first time’d seen him up close and her first time this close to a Cardassian, so she took the opportunity to study him. His facial structure was unremarkable, although the ridges were quite dramatic and the charcoal grey of his skin was intriguing, as was the color and texture of his tunic, its base of muted mustard yellow subtly patterned with burgundy and forest green embellishments suggestive of a lizard’s skin. It was cut from thick fabric which hid the details of his physique, although she could tell that he was solidly built and he carried himself well. But it was his eyes that impressed her the most: blue, intense, enigmatic above a politely solicitous smile. They conveyed tremendous and effortless charisma and seemed analyze every tiny detail of her appearance.
She smiled. “Yes, Mr... Garak?”
He offered her a little bow in return. “At your service.” With an elegant gesture of one broad grey hand he indicated the dress she’d been examining. “Exquisite, isn’t it? Delarian velvet and Tioran lace. Unfortunately,” and he looked her up and down with a professional demeanor, “it really isn’t your color. Perhaps I could interest you in something else?”
“Actually I’m looking to have a dress made.”
“I see.” He turned and placed the gesturing hand behind her back, guiding her without actually touching her towards the worktable in the center of the shop. There seemed to be a silent forcefield emanating from his skin. “Did you have anything particular in mind?”
“Something in silk,” she replied, curious to see where this conversation would go.
“Hmmm.” Again that swift visual evaluation, and then he swept into the back of the shop to emerge less than five seconds later carrying two bolts of fabric. He unfolded three turns of one onto the worktable, revealing a sleek material the exact colour of Julian’s skin. “Perhaps this will appeal to you? It’s my newest shipment from Albera VI. Bright, attractive and well-wearing.”
Tella reached out and ran her fingertips over the cloth, smiling with more than just appreciation for its loveliness. She might be just a Dabo girl, but choosing to work in the entertainment industry didn’t mean she wasn’t clever. She could see the layers the tailor was laying out in front of her. “It’s beautiful,” she said warmly. “Did you choose it yourself?”
“I pride myself on selecting only the most rare and gorgeous fabrics,” Garak replied with a gleam in his brilliant eyes. “Now, this dress - is it for everyday or special occasion wear?”
“Special occasion. Very occasional. Maybe once or twice a month.”
“What a pity to wear something so lovely so infrequently!”
“It’s important to dress appropriately,” she offered, looking up from the spill of silk to meet his eyes. “And to understand that not every piece of clothing is suitable to become too attached to." She paused. His gaze did not waver. "Of course, if you think that it might be objectionable...?"
"Not in the least.” So polite. Such sharp white teeth. “I believe this fabric would be absolutely charming on you... for occasional wear."
She nodded, acknowledging the unspoken warning, and continued to hold his gaze. After a moment he smiled again, and it hinted at even more layers of significance, not all of them readily apparent. It transformed his quite ordinary face into something highly intriguing. She was beginning to see what Julian saw in this man.
“How nice that we understand each other,” he said almost mildly. "And I must say that you possess commendable boldness, my dear. Most people with your level of comprehension would find this colour far too daring."
So Julian did talk to him about our little conversation. Of course he would. You don't keep that kind of secret from the man you love. She kept her expression pleasant. After all, Garak had just approved of her relationship with Julian, in so many highly coded words. This had gone better than she'd hoped.
He reached for the second bolt and unrolled some of it across the first fabric, a soft velvet the dark rosy hue of Julian’s most intimate skin in the heat of passion. His tone became businesslike once more. “Perhaps with this as an accent?”
“It’s adorable,” Tella said delightedly. It would also make Julian’s head explode if and when he figured out the hidden symbolism. “How can I resist? Sold!”
Garak’s smile widened. “It is truly a pleasure to work with such a... discerning customer.”
“And a true pleasure to work with such a talented tailor,” Tella countered. She hadn't had a conversation this much fun in months. “So when can the dress be ready?”
“Within the week. But first things first. Give me a moment to take your measurements...”
Tella smiled again as he removed a laser scanner from a drawer in the worktable and came around behind her to fit her for the new dress. Oh, he'd taken her measure already -- but she'd taken his too, and she fancied they'd come to an agreement of sorts. In any case, something told her that her future on this station was going to be very interesting, to say the least.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
Title: A Shoulder To Cry On (first draft, in progress)
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 2250
Summary: Julian is hurting, but he finds someone to confide in. Told from the point of view of Tella, a Dabo girl Julian has taken up with.
WARNINGS: Adorable!Bashir and Cunning!Garak, but other than that none really.
**********************
“I don't play second fiddle to anyone, Julian.”
She was standing by the viewport in his quarters, giving him her best I take no shit from anybody look while he sat on his couch looking startled, but not half as surprised as he might have if the accusation she was making was completely unwarranted. Nevertheless he tried for a polite denial, his brows drawn together in puzzlement.
“I’m sorry, I don’t -”
Tellara Niran held up her right hand, gently but firmly interrupting him. “I’m both Betazoid and Nominian, remember?” She smiled at him fondly. “Look, we’ve had a fun time these last three weeks. You’re awfully cute and you’re really good in bed. But it’s clear that you’re in love with someone else.”
His face fell. “It is?”
She noticed that he wasn't denying it. “Painfully clear.”
After a second he sighed and rested his elbows on his knees to run the fingers of both hands into that lovely tousle of thick dark hair, his slim shoulders slumping. “Tella, I’m sorry...”
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” she said pointedly, opening her shields to get a better sense of his state of mind. Reading another person under these conditions wasn’t exactly condoned in Betazed society, but ever since she’d realized that his body was with her but his heart was somewhere else she’d been curious, and she’d been known to bend the rules in the past when her curiousity was aroused. Not something her father would have approved of, but everybody disappointed their parents at some point or another.
He sighed, and she felt a wave of complicated sorrow flow from him. “We broke it off by mutual consent. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
She had the feeling he didn’t really believe that, but wisely kept it to herself. He was hurting enough as it was, and not about having her walk out of his bedroom. Crossing to sit down beside him, she laid a compassionate hand on his shoulder. “But you still love her?”
He hesitated as if fighting an internal battle, which he was. “Him,” he said at last. Another sigh that seemed to come from the soles of his feet and she felt him struggling again. She squeezed his shoulder gently. His soft voice almost broke. “So much.”
His grief washed over her, hot and fresh, but she rode it out and sat quietly, waiting. It was widely reputed that Betazoids were natural counsellors; she’d never fancied that particular occupation, but Julian was bright and kind and she didn’t think he was the sort of person who deserved to hurt this much. She was willing to sacrifice at least the hour before her shift started at the Dabo table to let him unburden himself.
He turned his head to regard her with dark eyes - damn, he was adorable, he could still make her heart melt just with his gaze! - and she sensed as well as saw a glitter of tears not quite shed. “It’s...” A shrug and he lowered his head back into his hands. “It’s nothing. Something I should have gotten over a long time ago.”
“Who is it? Is he still on the station?”
A wave of pain. Clearly the answer was yes.
“Is he a fellow officer?”
No, clearly not.
“One of the civilians?”
Close, but not quite. She tried to think of someone on the station who wasn’t part of Starfleet but who wasn’t a plain old civvie either. Most of her time with Julian she’d been careful to keep her shields up unless they were alone and/or in bed together; that was when she’d sensed that even though he enjoyed kissing and fondling her he was missing and loving someone completely different. Thus she hadn’t been reading him while they walked around the station together running into people he knew. Who did Julian associate with who wasn’t in his own military? Major Kira? About as likely as a yemalk mating with a fessila, and besides, Julian had said the mystery lover was male. Quark? Oh Gods, no. That Cardassian tailor he had lunch with once a -?
Dabo! She quickly reviewed how Julian had talked about the tailor in the past - animated and engaged and full of admiration for his experience and his cleverness, with a quiet light shining in those gorgeous eyes, hell, once even going on and on about him when they were cuddling on her couch - and immediately decided that she’d been an idiot not to spot it sooner. Plus she’d heard from Quark that the tailor was actually a Cardassian operative, which fit the not-quite-civvie profile very neatly.
Time to take the bull by the horns. She ran her hand around to Julian’s back, just below the neck of his loose black silk shirt. “Is it that tailor friend of yours?”
“Who, Garak?” His head came up and whipped around to face her, the strength of his denial and the surge of raw emotion that accompanied it providing all the answer she needed. “Of course not! That’s ridiculous!”
She tapped her temple silently with her other hand and Julian’s outraged expression became a scowl. “I thought it was common courtesy to keep your shields up.”
“With ordinary people, yes. But we’ve been lovers.” Even though I won’t be your lover after tonight, she thought a little wistfully. She did have a distinct weakness for handsome officers, even when they were obsessed with someone other than her own fair self. “So what happened?” She began to slowly rub soothing circles in the tense spot between his shoulderblades.
"Nothing," he protested, looking at her with annoyance in his lovely eyes. She kept her hand where it was and refused to look away.
He glared. She waited patiently. She'd seen this before with him, plunging off in one direction to suddenly change course like a sorka hare with a hound on its heels. All she had to do was keep up the pursuit.
He put his head back in his hands yet again, radiating dismay. “If Commander Sisko finds out about it, my career will be over,” he hissed, but somehow Tella got the impression that there might be a silver lining to that cloud.
“Oh, come on, Julian.” She infused her tone with fond exhasperation. “You know I’ve got one of the tightest sets of lips on this station, and even though we won’t be sleeping together anymore I still want to be your friend. Now, you’ve all but told me that I’m right, so why don’t you spill the rest? I’ve got to admit I’m pretty curious. He doesn’t seem to be your type.” He glanced round at her again, so she clarified: “Older, stout and male.”
“He’s not that old," Julian insisted to the floor, "and he's certainly not stout - he just dresses that way to put people off their guard. And...”
He fell silent. She could tell that he was torn between two powerful conflicting impulses: the need to share a secret that had been quietly tearing him apart, and the need to keep that secret safe - and not only for his own sake.
Tella sighed. “Look, I like you a lot," she repeated patiently. "I’m not going to go out of my way to make life difficult for you." She thought back to the one or two remarks Quark had dropped in her presence about his fellow merchant on the Promenade. "And if half the things I’ve heard are true Garak is the kind of person that you do not make life difficult for unless you want no life at all. And he still cares about you, doesn't he? You still have lunch once a week.”
Neither of her parents' species were telepaths, but she could read the weary wave of emotion from him almost as clearly as thought: She already knows... He sat up and slumped back against the couch, letting his hands fall into his lap. "I don't know what Garak feels half the time. It's like trying to read a kotar board when you have no idea which version of the game is being played. I thought I'd learned to read him, but..." A tired little shrug.
Oh, Julian, sweetie... you've been carrying around this for a while, haven't you? She kept her hand curved warmly around the nape of his neck. She'd only been on the station for a half-week longer than she'd been going out with this pretty fellow but tomorrow she'd start asking some discreet questions. For now, however, less-than-discreet questions were in order. "How did you meet him?"
"Actually, he met me." A wistful smile of remembrance. "Almost three years ago. I was drinking Tarkalean tea in the Replimat when he came up to my table as smooth as you please and asked if he could introduce himself. I'd heard that he was -- well, more than a simple tailor, so I was surprised, and I have to admit, a little alarmed."
Tella thought of the few glimpses she'd caught of Garak, walking down the Promenade or through the doors of his shop. "He doesn't look that scary to me."
Love, admiration, a sexual thrill from Julian's end deeper and somewhat darker than any he'd ever felt with her. "Oh, he can be," Julian said with quiet feeling. "But he wasn't trying to frighten me that day I don't think, although it probably amused him no end to watch me jump. It turned that one of the reasons he approached me was to set up a line of communication to Commander Sisko concerning a Bajoran terrorist's plot here on the station, but after that incident was wrapped up we started going out to lunch on a regular basis."
[Bashir confesses a great deal to Tella, and feels better afterwards. She suggests that they continue the conversation at a later time -- she does still want to be friends with him -- and that the occasional sexual interlude would probably be a good idea as well. She knows that his time with her made him feel better and that although she can't be in a relationship with him if he doesn't love her fully, she has no problem with the idea of comfort sex from time to time.
[She feels, though, that it would be a good idea to make her intentions clear to someone else...]
Tella waited until two days after Julian’s next lunch with his tailor friend to pay a visit to Garak’s shop. It was empty when she entered and she gravitated immediately to a dress hung on a mannequin beneath a recessed display spotlight. The material was beautifully cut and sewn, layers of rich fabric sweeping from an off-the-shoulder bodice down to the floor.
She waited, pretending to study it. And perhaps fifteen seconds later she was not disappointed.
“Good afternoon, Miss... Niran, isn’t it?”
She turned to find Garak right beside her; she hadn’t even heard him emerge from the back of the shop. Another shock: she was picking up almost no emotional emanations from him whatsoever. Either he was running in virtual empathic silence or members of his species were naturally immune to both Betazoid and Nominian senses.
In any event, here he was -- Julian's great love. It was the first time’d seen him up close and her first time this close to a Cardassian, so she took the opportunity to study him. His facial structure was unremarkable, although the ridges were quite dramatic and the charcoal grey of his skin was intriguing, as was the color and texture of his tunic, its base of muted mustard yellow subtly patterned with burgundy and forest green embellishments suggestive of a lizard’s skin. It was cut from thick fabric which hid the details of his physique, although she could tell that he was solidly built and he carried himself well. But it was his eyes that impressed her the most: blue, intense, enigmatic above a politely solicitous smile. They conveyed tremendous and effortless charisma and seemed analyze every tiny detail of her appearance.
She smiled. “Yes, Mr... Garak?”
He offered her a little bow in return. “At your service.” With an elegant gesture of one broad grey hand he indicated the dress she’d been examining. “Exquisite, isn’t it? Delarian velvet and Tioran lace. Unfortunately,” and he looked her up and down with a professional demeanor, “it really isn’t your color. Perhaps I could interest you in something else?”
“Actually I’m looking to have a dress made.”
“I see.” He turned and placed the gesturing hand behind her back, guiding her without actually touching her towards the worktable in the center of the shop. There seemed to be a silent forcefield emanating from his skin. “Did you have anything particular in mind?”
“Something in silk,” she replied, curious to see where this conversation would go.
“Hmmm.” Again that swift visual evaluation, and then he swept into the back of the shop to emerge less than five seconds later carrying two bolts of fabric. He unfolded three turns of one onto the worktable, revealing a sleek material the exact colour of Julian’s skin. “Perhaps this will appeal to you? It’s my newest shipment from Albera VI. Bright, attractive and well-wearing.”
Tella reached out and ran her fingertips over the cloth, smiling with more than just appreciation for its loveliness. She might be just a Dabo girl, but choosing to work in the entertainment industry didn’t mean she wasn’t clever. She could see the layers the tailor was laying out in front of her. “It’s beautiful,” she said warmly. “Did you choose it yourself?”
“I pride myself on selecting only the most rare and gorgeous fabrics,” Garak replied with a gleam in his brilliant eyes. “Now, this dress - is it for everyday or special occasion wear?”
“Special occasion. Very occasional. Maybe once or twice a month.”
“What a pity to wear something so lovely so infrequently!”
“It’s important to dress appropriately,” she offered, looking up from the spill of silk to meet his eyes. “And to understand that not every piece of clothing is suitable to become too attached to." She paused. His gaze did not waver. "Of course, if you think that it might be objectionable...?"
"Not in the least.” So polite. Such sharp white teeth. “I believe this fabric would be absolutely charming on you... for occasional wear."
She nodded, acknowledging the unspoken warning, and continued to hold his gaze. After a moment he smiled again, and it hinted at even more layers of significance, not all of them readily apparent. It transformed his quite ordinary face into something highly intriguing. She was beginning to see what Julian saw in this man.
“How nice that we understand each other,” he said almost mildly. "And I must say that you possess commendable boldness, my dear. Most people with your level of comprehension would find this colour far too daring."
So Julian did talk to him about our little conversation. Of course he would. You don't keep that kind of secret from the man you love. She kept her expression pleasant. After all, Garak had just approved of her relationship with Julian, in so many highly coded words. This had gone better than she'd hoped.
He reached for the second bolt and unrolled some of it across the first fabric, a soft velvet the dark rosy hue of Julian’s most intimate skin in the heat of passion. His tone became businesslike once more. “Perhaps with this as an accent?”
“It’s adorable,” Tella said delightedly. It would also make Julian’s head explode if and when he figured out the hidden symbolism. “How can I resist? Sold!”
Garak’s smile widened. “It is truly a pleasure to work with such a... discerning customer.”
“And a true pleasure to work with such a talented tailor,” Tella countered. She hadn't had a conversation this much fun in months. “So when can the dress be ready?”
“Within the week. But first things first. Give me a moment to take your measurements...”
Tella smiled again as he removed a laser scanner from a drawer in the worktable and came around behind her to fit her for the new dress. Oh, he'd taken her measure already -- but she'd taken his too, and she fancied they'd come to an agreement of sorts. In any case, something told her that her future on this station was going to be very interesting, to say the least.
[TO BE CONTINUED]