letsplayamurder | Afterparty

[The earth once more closes up and all of that disappears, Quark remains on the ground for a long moment, holding Cerejeira. Finally, he raises his voice, still keeping her tucked against him. His tone is all business, brooking no argument.]

Bar'll open in ten minutes. Go get washed up, and then be there.

[He turns his head to look at Astarion, eyes narrowing.]

You. After those ten minutes, you're going to explain to everyone what you did. And then you're going to get out of my bar. Got it?

[and, not waiting for a reply, he's turning his attention to Cerejeira and Leb. He frowns, for a moment, because he knows he can't carry either of them, and normally he might have asked Fe Lu Om Ranma or Vanity but, well.]

...someone who can carry people help me with Leb and Jeira.

[So......the bar downstairs is once again open. Quark is not behind the bar. Instead, he's pushed some tables together and put some bottles of wine on the table. He's replicated some bar snacks and they're there too. There's something replicated for Riful also, in a separate bowl, which he'll give to her personally.

Fritz sitting near the entrance to the back counter where he's working and Critwo is in a nest of blankets in a corner just behind the counter. There’s been several of the extra togas gathered and folded to be used as blankets.

Leb is still asleep on one of the couches with one of the spare togas tucked around her as a blanket. Cerejeira is seated next to her, also with a spare toga tucked around her.

Once everyone is down there, Quark pushes to his feet and clears his throat.

Once the situation has been made clear, then the rest of the evening can proceed as usual for their afterparties.

Those four drinks that Quark usually makes (Athena, Alex, Misane, Aglaea) are once again sitting at the far edge of the counter. There are no new additions.]

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[It feels like ice starts to creep into his blood at that. A failsafe.]

What...does that mean, exactly?

It means-

[ha ha, this sucks]

-under what they considered to be typical, expected conditions, I and everyone in my genetic line have a deliberately engineered chemical deficiency. Without regular doses of something called Compound 18-

[She sighs, trailing off a little.]

Theoretically it keeps us coming back to home base and on good terms with the company without needing some kind of minder. For me it wasn't an issue once I took over, and for a while my- the others. Just kept hitting depots and outposts to steal supplies.

["-deliberately engineered chemical deficiency." So, in a nutshell, exactly like the Jem'hadar and their addiction to Ketracel-White. There's a fury that rolls through him at that, for the people that engineered that into her, immediately sparking against the low-burning anger that, if he's being honest, has been there for a long time, though getting closer and closer to the surface as the weeks have gone on. He pushes it back down again, banking the coals of it.

The Jem'hadar can only go a short amount of time without it. Less than a week, he knows that.]

What about here?

Here- it's been fine.

[She'd been a little worried when she first arrived. Maybe getting complacent had been stupid.]

All that shit in the kitchen and pantry, the fresh stuff? That's enough to offset the deficiency.

[The way she was inhaling it all before and after the trial wasn't just hunger.]

Dunno how that actually works, but somehow Echo and her little pirate friends noodled it all out. Stole a goddamn greenship right from under us, and after that the raids for the compound stopped- but, um. Point is, it was fine here. Except then that asshole dusted all the food.

[Her arms fold tight, looking down at the ground.]

I got one dose. Out of the cornucopia. That would have been good for maybe another couple days.

[Fresh food offsets it. There's a sweeping relief in him at that. They can work with that. That's...that's better than the Ketracel-White.

But then, when the fresh food disappeared and she had a deficit, then why not tell them--?

He bites that outburst back, keeping it tucked away because he's not mad at her, he really isn't. He knows who he's mad at, and it's not the person standing in front of him, telling him the truth. Quark takes a slow breath through his nose, and then:]

A couple of days. Alright.

And how does this tie in to the fight with Saotome? [he can see the shape of it, he just...he wants to be sure.]

Edited 2025-08-18 18:36 (UTC)

Because after those couple days, then what? Hope the horn spits out another one? Hope someone else fucks up the way we have every single week? Sit there and just wait for-

[Vanity falls quiet, for an instant her usual facade of bravado and braggadocio replaced by a scared teenager suddenly facing her own mortality.]

I'm not. I don't want to play that fucker's game. I don't. But I would have if I hadn't gotten my shit kicked in.

[...she didn't want to die. That makes sense. Who does and who would? And yet, even when it was looking bleak, she still wouldn't let herself play into Typhon's hands.

Immediately, there's a sweeping relief in him--this is what he'd wanted to ensure, all those weeks ago--and though that might not be the reason behind her choice, he still can't help the feeling of fierce pride that follows, that she not only didn't give in, but actively worked to prevent herself from going down that road.

Quark sucks in a slow breath.]

...Vanity?

[She didn't want to. But wouldn't it be worth it, part of her kept whispering. If it was going to happen sooner or later anyway, wouldn't it be better to make it count for something. Some kind of victory for once, here, when she'd been so useless in battle, where she was supposed to shine. Letting the rest of them go on, all these people who for some reason gave a shit-]

[She blinks, eyes wet, looking up at Quark.]

What.

C'mere.

[And he's stepping forward and, if she'll let him, tugging her in to hug her]

[She freezes up a little, but. Doesn't actually resist, too confused, as Quark pulls her in.]

What- what are you-

[In for a slip of latinum, in for a bar--]

I'm proud of you.

...Quark WHAT THE FUCK-

[But on instinct she didn't know she had, she's returning the hug as a rough, ragged sob escapes her, eyes squeezing shut against the literal flood of emotion.]

[he nearly winces at that volume, but Vanity's hugging him the next moment with a sob that kinda breaks his heart a little so he's just going to hold her tighter]

If anything like this happens again--hopefully it won't, but if it does, and you're running low like that, you tell me, alright?

[It takes her a second to get coherent again, catching her breath through another sob.]

What, you think you'd be able to do something?

If I'm not, then someone here can. We'll shift rations around or something like that. We'll make it work.

[he has not let her go yet, or even loosened his grip]

Other than that, everything you did was the right choice, Vanity.

You're kind of an idiot sometimes, you know.

[She pulls back a little, scrubbing at the eyes with a pajama sleeve, trying to look like she didn't just cry out years of emotions in under a minute.]

Guess I'm not better. But fine. I will.

[Quark huffs a bit at that, reaching into his jacket to offer her one of the squares of cloth that he keeps in there]

At least I'm in good company, then.

Not that we'll ever have that food shortage problem once we're on the station, but the point stands.

[OFFERING A HANDKERCHIEF WITHOUT EVEN CHARGING, WHAT ARE THEY COMING TO-]

[Yeah, she'll wipe her eyes, taking a breath.]

You're still serious about that, huh.

Afterparty

cw: medical in particular

cw: medical in particular

cw: medical in particular

cw: medical in particular

cw: medical in particular

cw: medical in particular

cw: medical in particular

cw: back on that self-sacrificing suicide bullshit

cw: back on that self-sacrificing suicide bullshit

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