A Second Chance At A First Impression (G/B, PG-13) By Olivia Monteith Summary: Garak teaches Julian some of the finer points of dating. Loud vulgar music pounded through the bar at such a volume, the Cardassian was sure that he felt the bass in his bones. The same beat, repeating over and over till he was sure he was in hell. The lights flashed, circling the room in a mad chase, striking the eye and rushing away, leaving those damned spots behind. The crush of alien bodies pushing him about, sorely testing his patience and his balance. Singles Night at Quark's, a veritable feast of sinful behavior. Nearly blind and deaf he struggled further into this den of pheromones and sweat, narrowly missing a Ferengi waiter who rushed past, a tray of drinks balanced perilously on his small hand. That Klingon bloodwine would never come out, he thought, as he stepped back to safety. And it would smell for days. Once again, he began his slow advance toward the bar. Finally, he was there. He shouldered his way in, pressed between a scantily clad young woman, and a rowdy group of young men who were watching her intently. Quark was harried, mixing drinks in a rushed, haphazard manner. He came over to Garak, and without looking up asked, "What can I get for you?" "Kanaar, please," he requested. "Garak!" Quark said with some surprise. "I must say, I didn't expect to see you here tonight." "Well, one must make the attempt to get out once in a while," he said as he allowed his eyes to rove over the crowd, searching for a tall, lean figure. Quark set a glass of bright blue liquid in front of him, and said softly, "He's over near the dart board." Garak eyed him, a little surprised. "I don't know what you mean. I was only..." "Checking the crowd to see what the latest fashions are? Sure, I know, but I also know that you have a weakness for golden brown, accented in medical blue. It pays to know your customers before they walk in your door." "Indeed," the tailor said coolly. "Sometimes, knowledge can be harmful, should it fall into the wrong hands." "Who would find out that doesn't already know? You're a lot like Odo. A *lot* like him. You're both known for having information you shouldn't have, you're both shifty, and you both delude yourselves into thinking that you can hide your feelings all of the time. Even your mask slips. The only one who might not know is over by the dart board." Garak picked up his drink, wondering idly if Ferengi hide would make a stylish handbag, before pushing back through the sea of writhing flesh. As he neared the dartboard, he found the object of his affection, leaning over a table, talking to a young woman, who seemed to be only half listening. Bashir's back was turned to him, and so the doctor didn't see his approach. The tailor heard him saying something to the young lady, "You do know that I am genetically enhanced, don't you? Hand-eye-coordination, mental response time,...stamina..." Garak bit the inside of his cheek, and very nearly burst into laughter as the young woman rolled her eyes, and without saying a word, got up from her seat and left him standing there. "Wait! How about a game of darts? Dinner? A cup of coffee some time?" "I'm afraid she's gone, dear doctor. Most likely already out of hearing range," he said, standing very closely behind the human, under the pretense of being heard without shouting. The doctor started, not noticing him till he had spoken. "Oh! Garak! I didn't hear you come up," he stammered, turning around and stepping back a pace. "I'm not surprised. It is rather loud in here. Care to sit down?" he asked, gesturing to the chair just recently vacated by the young lady. Bashir looked longingly in the direction she had gone, and sighed, "I suppose I should regroup." "Not having much luck?" "Unfortunately, no. I keep putting my foot in it. Or maybe there's something wrong with my appearance. How do I look?" Garak ran his eyes up and down the lithe frame, taking in the pressed tan pants, the ivory shirt, the top button casually left undone. The effect was very flattering. "Nonsense. You look exquisite." Julian turned to look at the tailor, his eyebrows coming together wrinkling his forehead in that adorable way that Garak loved. "Th-thank you, I suppose." "Perhaps your problem is in your delivery, the way you present yourself. I heard you most recent exchange, and I must say, Doctor, Worf could be more subtle after half a keg of bloodwine." Dr. Bashir cringed. "That bad?" Garak nodded his head as he sipped from his glass, allowing the burning liquid to wash away the chuckle bubbling up in his chest. "I just get nervous around women, especially when I'm trying to be charming, and I end up sounding like an idiot." "Just be yourself. I find the real you quite charming." "I wish it were that simple." "Why isn't it?" "I can't just be me. My first impressions rarely earn me a second chance. I'm fine until I open my mouth, and then my brain makes a hasty retreat." "Yes, I can see where the first thing you say to someone can be vital," he agreed, remembering a time, seven years earlier, when he stepped up to a beautiful specimen. 'Hello, You're Dr. Bashir, aren't you?' Sometimes you can be too subtle with some people. "Perhaps I can help." The doctor placed his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. "I doubt it. I think I'm beyond help." "Ah, there's hope for you yet. Here, pretend that I am someone you desire, and introduce yourself to me." Julian smirked at him. "Garak, really, it's hopeless. I'm destined to spend the rest of my life without companionship." "Come now, Doctor. It can't hurt to try. I'll let you know if it works or not." Julian puffed in resignation. "Okay, okay...let's see...." he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in thought. "Ah...Hello, can I buy you a drink? You seem to have worked up quite a sweat." Garak flinched as if he had been physically struck. "Mmmm...No, it's never a good idea to mention to a young woman that she is perspiring." "I see your point. How about...'Hi, I'm Dr. Bashir. Perhaps you've heard of me?'" "No, now you sound arrogant and self centered. I mean you are, but that wasn't quite what I meant when I said you should just be yourself. You should never allow a prospective companion see your more unflattering qualities immediately." "Funny," Julian said wryly. "I was being serious, but I'm glad it amused you. Go on, let’s try another one. Maybe that's an idea. Perhaps you should try something to make her laugh, show that you are a fun loving person." "That might work.... How about, 'Did you hear the one about the Klingon, the Bajoran and the... " "Really, doctor, don't you know any jokes funnier than that one? That joke was going around Cardassia when I was in prepatory school." "I give up. How do you approach someone you're interested in?" "I simply walk over to them, introduce myself, and try to engage them in a stimulating conversation. Conversation is an art form to Cardassians, after all." "Does that work?" "Sometimes, but it has been years since I employed that method. I wasn't very successful the last time I tried it. I'm afraid the object of my interest wasn't familiar with Cardassian social interaction." "But, the method might have the desired effect on someone who was a Cardassian?" "Oh, most definitely. I had a very high success rate before I came here." "So what might you do to get the interest of a non- Cardassian?" Garak looked as if he was considering the question very thoroughly, studying the human's face. Finally, he opened his mouth, and simply said, "Your eyes are the most remarkable color. Has anyone ever told you that you have a face that artists dream of?" Bashir seemed impressed. "Wow, that would have to work." Garak sighed. "Not always." "What else might you try? You have to have more than the one line." "That's just it, Doctor. There are no 'lines'. Sincerity is the key. If you wish to catch someone’s interest, they must believe that you are genuinely interested in them, and not just in getting them to go home with you." Julian looked contemplative a moment, before resting his eye on Garak's face, and saying, "So, in other words, if I were to look you in the eye, and say that you were the most interesting man I have ever met, you would feel attracted to me." "Precisely. You must remember though, that the other person must feel that you mean what you are saying." "Garak, you *are* the most interesting man I have ever met," Bashir said, his amber eyes looking searchingly into the Cardassian’s sky blue. The tailor found himself speechless for a moment. "That was very good, Julian. Very convincing. If you're not careful, I might think that you were interested in more than conversation." "You might? That could well be because I am." His eyes never left Garak's and he expressed his sincerity by reaching across the table and laying his warm smooth hand over the back of the cooler, gray hand of the tailor. "Would you like to go somewhere quiet? I think we have a lot to talk about," the younger man continued. "Yes, I believe that we do indeed. My quarters?" "Sounds good." The two men stood and left the blaring music and glaring lights behind, not noticing the smiling Ferengi behind the bar, or his tall serious looking companion. "You see, Odo? I told you Singles Night was a good idea," Quark said triumphantly. "Hmph! It does seem to have worked where more conventional methods have failed. Very well, you'll have your latinum in the morning. I, of all people, should know better than to bet with a Ferengi." ~finis~ -- "Captain! The Klingons are surrounding Uranus!"