“Thank you, no,” Vaughn said, interrupting Quark’s list. “I didn’t think you’d have what I was looking for, but I thought I would ask, just to be sure.”

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Quark said. “I could look for something like that for you, though…special-order it.”

“Perhaps when I get back from the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Believe me,” Quark told him, “I could use the business.”

“So I see,” Vaughn said, turning and surveying the empty bar.

Quark took the moment to look over at Ro. Her eyes were cast downward, at the surface of the bar. She seemed uncomfortable.

When Vaughn turned around toward the bar again, Quark looked back up at him. “The station has quieted down considerably since the Europani departed,” Vaughn offered.

“The Europani,” Quark agreed, “and the crews of the ships taking them back to their planet.”

“Of course,” Vaughn said. “Well, I hope business improves for you. Thank you for this.” He indicated the bottle, then looked to Ro. “Good night, Lieutenant.”

“Commander,” Ro said, looking up and smiling, though it appeared to Quark like a professional smile and not a personal one.

Quark watched as Vaughn exited the bar. When the commander had gone, Quark turned his attention back to Ro. “You were awfully quiet,” he said, trying to achieve a tone of nonchalance. He flipped the lid closed on the box of isolinear rods.

“Yeah,” she said. “Actually, I like Commander Vaughn. It’s just that…well, I guess you were right: I’m not really the Starfleet type.”

“Take it from me,” Quark told her, “that’s not the worst thing in the universe.” He bent and returned the box of holosuite programs to its place beneath the bar.

“Maybe not,” she said, seeming suddenly pensive. She was quiet for a few seconds, and then said, “May I ask you a question, Quark?”

“The answer is yes,”he told her immediately. In a heartbeat, another smile blossomed on her face.

“You haven’t even heard the question yet,” she said.

Quark leaned on the bar and looked into Ro’s eyes. “I trust you,” he said.

Ro chuckled warmly, and Quark felt a chill run through his lobes. No sound had affected him like that in a long time, not even the delicious chink of latinum. Ro held his gaze a moment longer, then asked, “Are you really ruined?” He could not tell whether that was the question she had initially intended to ask him.

“Well, ruinedmight be putting it a little strongly,” he admitted, pushing away from the bar. “But business has been mostly slow since the end of the war. Having the Europani and the convoy crews on the station helped, but profits dipped while I was away at Farius Prime.”

“Sorry about that,” Ro said. She had been the one who had secured his cooperation in the whole Iconian gateways mess, through a mixture of cajolery and coercion, though he liked to think that he would have gone along anyway, simply as a favor to her. “Well, maybe not that sorry,” she said, her tone light. “There wasthat nasty bit of business on Cardassia.”

“Yes, well, if you want to include my financial reversals there,” he said, playing along with her teasing, “then business is really in decline.” All of which was both true and troubling, Quark knew, but somehow it did not seem like such a bad thing to joke about it right now. “And that doesn’t even take into account the generous contract I gave Treir.”

“‘Generous’?” Ro asked. She lifted the snifter and sipped once more at the brandy.

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “Actually, I thought she was working out.” Ro looked over her shoulder at the dabo table, and Quark followed her gaze. The Tellarite captain had not moved, but Treir had sat down and was now leaning her head against her hand, her elbow propped up on the table.

“Well, I have to admit that her presence in the bar has turned some heads and brought in some customers,” Quark said. “The freighter crews lovedher. Of course, that was up until two days ago, when there were still people other than Starfleet types on the station.”

“Personally, I like the lull,” Ro said. “It’s allowed me the first real free time I’ve had since I’ve been here.”

Quark grunted his disagreement. “When it’s quiet, business suffers. And when business suffers, I’m not happy.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Quark,” Ro said. “If not for the quiet, I might not have come in here.”

Quark could not be certain—he had never been terribly good at judging these things—but he thought he might not be the only one flirting now. He started to respond, but then he heard something. He turned from Ro and looked off into the middle distance, concentrating and trying to identify the sound.

“What’s wrong?” Ro asked.

“Nothing,” Quark said. “I hear a group of people…a largegroup of people…heading this way.”

“I don’t hear anything,” she said. “Are you sure?” By way of an answer, Quark looked back at her and tugged at one of his ears. They waited for a few seconds, and then Quark saw that Ro could hear it too. The voices increased in volume as they drew closer, with laughter and yelling mixed in. A moment later, Morn wandered into the bar at the head of a boisterous throng. The bald Lurian strode directly over to his usual seat, plopped himself down, and looked around for somebody to serve him. Several of Morn’s companions joined him at the bar, while the bulk of the crowd scattered to various locations—including, Quark was pleased to see, the dabo table. Treir had risen from her seat, he saw, and now stood in a sultry pose next to the dabo wheel. Remarkably, the Tellarite captain had been removed to a nearby table, where she sat groggily back in a chair, apparently trying to shake off her night of hard drinking. The noise level in the bar had, in a matter of a few seconds, escalated dramatically. Quark and Ro looked at each other in amazement.

“That must have been some poetry reading,” Quark finally said, raising his voice to be heard.

“I guess so,” Ro said, also raising her voice.

Quark scanned the room for Frool and Grimp, got their attention, and pointed where he wanted them to go. “I should never have let Broik leave for the night,” he said to himself. Then, to Ro, he said, “Excuse me for a minute.” He started toward the other end of the bar to serve Morn, but stopped when Ro called after him.

“Good night, Quark,” she said, standing from her barstool.

“No, you’re not leaving,” he said, hoping that he could wait on his customers and then return to his conversation with her.

“Like I said,” she told him, “I liked the lull.”

Quark thought about what he could possibly say to convince her to stay, but he could see her discomfort with the raucous crowd, so he simply said, “Good night, Laren.”

“Thanks for the brandy,” she said, gesturing back at the nearly empty snifter as she began walking toward the door. “Put it—” She stopped, came back to the bar, and leaned across it, obviously wanting to say something to Quark without anybody else hearing it. He leaned over the bar, putting his ear up close to her lips. “Put it on my tab,” she whispered.

Quark turned and smiled at her. Beautifuland considerate,he thought; she must have realized that he extended lines of credit to very few of his customers, and that he wanted as few people as possible to know that he did so at all.

“Thanks again,” she said.

“Anytime.” He stood motionless behind the bar and watched her leave. When she had gone, he said it again: “Anytime.” Then he turned and paced down to the other end of the bar.

“Okay, Morn,” he said, “which one of your usuals will it be?” But even amid the call of profits, he was still thinking about Ro Laren.