If my world is moving
Who: Gul Dukat and Sookie Stackhouse, closed
What: Dukat wants to make up for a broken appointment and at the same time discover something for himself.
Where: Hallways, Hotel Rooms, and Rooftop
When: Directly after this and before this. Late evening.
Dukat sat at his room desk, flipping methodically through the pages of the Cardassian book of legends he had selected from the library and translating their titles into English, using one page per title, in a painfully neat hand. Because of his injury, he had to use his left hand for writing, something not difficult for him, yet a tad more painstaking than if he had been able to use his right. It was a smallish book, only twenty tales total, that he felt would have possible appeal to an alien audience without being too heavily pedantic or political. When he finished, he mixed the order of the sheets up, stacked them together neatly, and folded the whole bundle into precise thirds. He wrote "Miss Stackhouse" in centered print and finally stood to stretch. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet.
Crossing to his small refrigerated box, he removed the bottle of kanar that his captors had placed there some time between the morning and the evening. He set it on the desk beside the folded stack of papers and strode into his bedroom to fetch the extra blanket folded on the closet shelf. This he refolded to a much more compact bundle, tucking in the ends so that it would not come undone without being pulled. Satisfied with his preparations, he tucked the blanket under his arm, returned to the sitting room for the kanar and the papers, and left his own room to cross the hallway. He managed to get the bottle balanced in the crook of his arm against the blanket before knocking upon Miss Stackhouse's door with his good hand. He had no idea how late it was, but he didn't think it was ridiculously after hours. He hoped that if she was there, he wasn't awakening her or startling her.
What: Dukat wants to make up for a broken appointment and at the same time discover something for himself.
Where: Hallways, Hotel Rooms, and Rooftop
When: Directly after this and before this. Late evening.
Dukat sat at his room desk, flipping methodically through the pages of the Cardassian book of legends he had selected from the library and translating their titles into English, using one page per title, in a painfully neat hand. Because of his injury, he had to use his left hand for writing, something not difficult for him, yet a tad more painstaking than if he had been able to use his right. It was a smallish book, only twenty tales total, that he felt would have possible appeal to an alien audience without being too heavily pedantic or political. When he finished, he mixed the order of the sheets up, stacked them together neatly, and folded the whole bundle into precise thirds. He wrote "Miss Stackhouse" in centered print and finally stood to stretch. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet.
Crossing to his small refrigerated box, he removed the bottle of kanar that his captors had placed there some time between the morning and the evening. He set it on the desk beside the folded stack of papers and strode into his bedroom to fetch the extra blanket folded on the closet shelf. This he refolded to a much more compact bundle, tucking in the ends so that it would not come undone without being pulled. Satisfied with his preparations, he tucked the blanket under his arm, returned to the sitting room for the kanar and the papers, and left his own room to cross the hallway. He managed to get the bottle balanced in the crook of his arm against the blanket before knocking upon Miss Stackhouse's door with his good hand. He had no idea how late it was, but he didn't think it was ridiculously after hours. He hoped that if she was there, he wasn't awakening her or startling her.