Streets / Ribbon (OTA)
Garak had hoped when he woke up curled on the hard but to him comfortable floor of the Ribbon the delightful adventure that had been the past few days was just some odd little dream brought about by the troublesome remnants of the wire. He was ashamed to admit it, but after the destruction of the majority of his homeworld he'd fallen into what he almost considered a state of madness. Doing things such as stacking the bits and pieces of your childhood home into odd little towers that served as peculiar monuments to the destruction rather than rebuilding as everyone else was, or further covering up the intact entrance to the preserved sublevel so that it would remain a tomb to his mother weren't exactly actions attributed to sane people. He found himself dreaming of days aboard the station with Bashir or in a drug-induced stupor having to tell those unfortunate hallucinated Cardassian orphans that had been left on Bajor that they had no home to come home to. It was all a little excessive and he knew that it was a clear sign that he was slowly losing his mind. Especially if he ended up here again.
With a crick of thick, dense bones and a sharp look around, the Cardassian realized that he had indeed not been hallucinating. Some bewildering trick of fate had suddenly transformed him back into his childhood self. At the very least his clothes had decided to make the transformation with him, returning to the state they were before the shockwave from the TARDIS had hit, though it left him in the regretable position of having to make the trek back to the hotel without his well layered custom tailored coat or those invaluable leather gloves.
Some damnable trait that he'd acquired on Deep Space Nine kicked in, and he found himself looking around for the new friends he made; just to see if they were alright. Sure, they weren't actually childhood friends, but this festering compulsion to verify their safety wouldn't stop nagging him. He didn't see the young blind girl (or else he didn't recognize her) but the paranoid aristocratic boy that he had conversed with seemed to be contentedly drowsing against the Federaton android. Data didn't seem to want to wake him, or else wasn't bothered to inconvenience anyone even at his own expense, but Garak had no issue with approaching and grabbing the man's shoulder gently to shake.
"Avon?" he asked softly, used to waking people that could very well pull a disrupter on you if you startled them.
"I checked his vitals. He appears to be fine..." Data spoke lowly himself, half pulling the tricorder out of his pocket to indicate his meaning before replacing it.
"Ah. Well we don't yet know whether he sees it the same way, do we?" Garak stood straighter, stepping back. At least he had the good sense to sew pocket into his winter clothes so that he could have something to tuck his hands into if the need arose. There was no possibility he would allow himself to shiver, though. Not after a good five days of being a trembling, simpering child. He was certainly going to have to mind his tongue. And check on Mila. He had a good slow metabolism, and he had fed him plenty. Hopefully he was fine.
[(Avon used with permission. All other threads but the Avon one happen after he leaves the Ribbon and is on the street.)]
With a crick of thick, dense bones and a sharp look around, the Cardassian realized that he had indeed not been hallucinating. Some bewildering trick of fate had suddenly transformed him back into his childhood self. At the very least his clothes had decided to make the transformation with him, returning to the state they were before the shockwave from the TARDIS had hit, though it left him in the regretable position of having to make the trek back to the hotel without his well layered custom tailored coat or those invaluable leather gloves.
Some damnable trait that he'd acquired on Deep Space Nine kicked in, and he found himself looking around for the new friends he made; just to see if they were alright. Sure, they weren't actually childhood friends, but this festering compulsion to verify their safety wouldn't stop nagging him. He didn't see the young blind girl (or else he didn't recognize her) but the paranoid aristocratic boy that he had conversed with seemed to be contentedly drowsing against the Federaton android. Data didn't seem to want to wake him, or else wasn't bothered to inconvenience anyone even at his own expense, but Garak had no issue with approaching and grabbing the man's shoulder gently to shake.
"Avon?" he asked softly, used to waking people that could very well pull a disrupter on you if you startled them.
"I checked his vitals. He appears to be fine..." Data spoke lowly himself, half pulling the tricorder out of his pocket to indicate his meaning before replacing it.
"Ah. Well we don't yet know whether he sees it the same way, do we?" Garak stood straighter, stepping back. At least he had the good sense to sew pocket into his winter clothes so that he could have something to tuck his hands into if the need arose. There was no possibility he would allow himself to shiver, though. Not after a good five days of being a trembling, simpering child. He was certainly going to have to mind his tongue. And check on Mila. He had a good slow metabolism, and he had fed him plenty. Hopefully he was fine.
[(Avon used with permission. All other threads but the Avon one happen after he leaves the Ribbon and is on the street.)]