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In Quark's opinion, Odo's refusal to have a vice was probably the most irritating thing about him. His refusal to agree with Quark on the entire issue even while loitering in his bar, however, was easily a close second.
“Dabo is practically a Ferengi tradition, you know. You could just give it a spin. One spin!”
“And walk out of here owing you a long list of favors and everything I own, like that Yridian last night?” Odo humphed and gave him a familiar mistrustful look, before directing that same look at the glass Quark was polishing. Quark hadn’t even offered him a drink, but he’d been about to, and at a generous 1% discount; so much for generosity. “Hardly.”
It was a slow day, just five customers in the past four hours, and Quark would’ve been happy to shut down for the night if it hadn’t been for the principle of the thing and his determination to make at least some profit. It was a decision he’d regretted the minute Odo marched through the entryway, because on the best of days, it’s not like Odo was particularly good company. He was even worse company than usual, in fact, with his security cells empty and the Promenade deserted. He was probably just here hoping to catch Quark having one of his legitimate business deals; Quark should’ve tossed him out hours ago.
But then: slow day.
"If you ask me, I think everyone should try it at least once."
"That's funny," Odo said. "I don't remember asking you."
Quark was undeterred, because despite his words, Odo still hadn’t budged from his bar stool. He even looked a little less rigid than usual, which was a feat; for someone who spent several hours a day as a liquid, Odo was one of the stiffest people Quark had ever met. No fun, no weakness, no money: Quark could barely stand to talk to him for more than two or three hours a day.
“Come on,” Quark wheedled. It didn’t usually work on Odo, but that didn’t mean he planned to stop trying. “One spin. There’s no one around to see.”
“I’d rather just sit here quietly.”
“Fine. Go ahead. Sit there all night, for all I care.” Quark backtracked immediately, because Odo probably would. Odo lived to make life difficult for honest businessmen. “Not all night. The bar closes in a hour, and you’re not even a paying customer.”
Quark thought that would get a reaction, but instead Odo just gave him a look before continuing to sit there. Quietly.
He gave up and went to go clean the tables. Rom had made himself scarce hours ago, and Quark would have to dock his salary for that. Cleaning his own tables: just the thought made him grumble.
“Is it so much to ask for, for just a measly bit of money? My cousin owns a moon, you know. I’m not asking for a moon.”
“You missed a spot.”
Quark almost threw his towel at him, but since Odo would’ve probably dragged him off for assaulting a security officer if the mesh cloth had landed anywhere near him, he stuck to grumbling instead.
“Missed a spot.” Quark scrubbed furiously at the spot that wasn’t there. “I’d like to see you do better. For all we know, you ARE the spot.”
That got a response, a quiet huff that could’ve been a laugh from anyone except Odo. It was barely audible, though, even to his superior Ferengi ears, and that meant Quark ignored it. He was good at ignoring things when it suited him, and right then, he didn’t care about the potential noise (he might’ve imagined it! It was possible!) if Odo didn’t.
It took minutes to clean the tables, in silence the entire time, and once he was finished, Quark glanced at Odo. It was difficult to place the expression on his face, but then it always was; no bones, no quirk of lips or eyebrows to give himself away. With a face like that, he would’ve made a hell of a businessman, if not for those damned scruples of his and the fact that Quark had known him for years.
Odo looked lonely.
“You know,” Quark said slowly, after he’d turned away and moved on from the dining tables to the shiny dabo table. “It’s really a simple game. I could teach it to you.”
Odo didn’t say anything, and so Quark did what he did best, and launched into a practiced speech about the rules of the game and the potential riches it held. Odo probably wasn’t listening to a word he said, but the words weren’t important; the company was.
When the last hour was up, he didn’t even have to tell Odo to leave; he melted away as silently as he did anything else, without even a word of farewell. Quark had half a mind to grumble about that, too, and he had every intention of doing so, at least until he noticed the distinctive sparkle of a lone coin sitting on the bar. It must’ve been there since lunch, and he didn’t know how he’d missed it, in all the passes he’d made since then.
Oh well; he must’ve been getting old.