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“Are you sure that’s a dog?” The camera clicks and then is followed up by the scratch of the wheel being turned. Corat Damar can feel the side of his face twitch as the uncultured Northerner named Kelas Parmak moves to the next picture. His companion next to him- an incredibly suspicious man named Elim Garak smiles again and makes another apology for his “friend”. The dog in question is one of ten, an energetic white cotton ball of a dog who Damar had named “Vess” after careful consideration. He likes the alliteration of being able to say “vess vess” or “good Vess” whenever she pleases him. Vess is his absolutely favorite- he’d never tell her siblings- and her name essentially reflects that. Vess is a purebred Maltese and the inbred northerner would do well to remember that. Damar clears his throat and continues reviewing the papers. He’s glad that he didn’t opt to offer either of them drinks this time around, the duo are an insufferable headache and his most dreaded cases.
“I would suggest moderating your dress while you work on transferring your credentials,” Damar says not particularly enjoying having to talk to Parmak. He doesn’t know why the two don’t just admit to being lovers on the paperwork. He’s explained on numerous occasions that truth is essential for the Census and Records Bureau and human homophobia should absolutely not influence their answers on the paper. Though in looking at Garak’s file Damar suspects that he’s lied about every other thing on it anyway. Parmak blinks at him in that absolutely blank Nokarian way.
“Is there a dress code for doctors on Earth?” he asks looking down at his outfit as if he cannot see the indecency of it. Damar can see Garak put a hand over Parmak’s knee below his kitchen table since he’s so terribly obvious about it and again wants to call him out on their relationship but he reminds himself it isn’t his job and if the CRB wants to launch their own investigation they can have his files and observations then.
It’s August which is one of the more comfortable months in the northeast of what the Earthlings call the United States. It’s pleasantly humid as well so Damar is naturally wearing a pair of lightweight khakis and a loose white button down shirt. Garak’s pale pink culottes and paisley shirt look like they may have come from the Goodwill or stolen from a blind woman but at least he’s properly covered. His lover in the other hand has decided that a doctor of all people should be seen in nothing but a pair of cutoff jean shorts and some slip of clothing the humans call a tank top. It’s a white and blue striped number and he’s wearing sandals of all things that Vess and kUlp (his beloved little dachshund) have taken an irritating interest in. He jumps whenever they decide to lick his toes. He’s also, against Damar’s advice continued to weave those ridiculous beads into his hair as well. Damar sighs and makes sure to note that they really need to stop accepting these northerners for applications. Damar suspects that some connections of Garak’s were involved in the “expedited approval” request. He sighs.
“No, there’s no dress code, I’m simply offering you advice as your sponsor and case worker. You are aware that the courses for your accreditations to transfer will take you about 2 years, right?” He prays they’re assigned someone else before then.
“Well we do hope to be in New York before too long,” Garak says affably. “That’s where everything happens, you know.” Damar looks at him and taps his pencil to the table ito try and mask his annoyance.
“Have you secured work yet? Either of you? You may have selected Trenton as your current residence because of the cost but from what I can calculate your savings aren’t sufficient to sustain you more than a year.”
“That’s a year that I have to continue looking, Damar. I know that you handle a lot of these cases, so I appreciate your offer to set something up with the complete understanding that it is out of your endless generosity and not some self serving reimbursement but I think that the Chinese takeout on Lalor can get along without me for the time being.”
Damar smiled tightly.
“Yes, of course. Well, for now I’ll put “looking” under your employment status and “school” under your friend’s. I should warn you the United States government lacks our efficiency but we’re only able to maintain our partnership by-”
“Ensuring that every immigrating member of the Cardassian Union does their part to ensure a harmonious partnership,” Garak interrupts him insolently. “I have read the pamphlet, Damar.”
“Of course you have,” Damar answers drily, thinking if the both of them had read the pamphlet as thoroughly as they claim this hellish meeting would have ended a good hour ago. “In any case, moving along to the-” Parmak shrieks and Damar throws the papers up in response caught off guard. Of course It’s Vess licking toes again and Damar can feel that twitching hit him with a vengeance as he grumbles that he’ll put them up as well.
He’s sure he heard Garak make some comment about a bulldog lizard being keeper of the dogs and it’s taken every bit of discipline that he’s had not to “lose” their rental agreements. He tells himself just to have patience because the position is a highly sought one and while inordinately stressful at times plays a significant portion of his income. Okay, all his income and keeps his babies with lots of toys and fresh meat and the several acres out back. He starts picking up papers and grits his teeth again when he hears a click of the camera. Tourists. Everyone is a tourist when they first arrive, though Parmak is the first who’s ever started taking inane snapshots of his house like he’s conducting an interview for a magazine.
“Do you think that’s a good angle?” he hears Parmak ask and he catches a poorly hidden point to his own person out of the corner of his eye. Damar retrieves the last paper and then promises himself that he’s going to stand up, put the dogs up, and not smash the camera on the formica kitchen table. He hears a click of the camera again as he leaves and starts counting backwards from ten.
In the kitchen, Parmak is nursing his hand after Garak swats it like he would a disobedient child.
“Really, Elim! Was that necessary?” He turns the wheel to the next shot sad that he’s already through another roll of film. He hopes the charming young man at the photo hut doesn’t find him too much of a nuisance. “I think these will make rather nice souvenirs that we can look back on fondly. You know we don’t have these devices back home.” And while Garak acknowledges the truth in that statement- Earth having surprised him already with its advancements in odd gadgetry if nothing else- he still doesn’t quite understand Parmak’s incessant picture taking.
“I believe, dear Kelas, it’s considered rude to take unsolicited pictures of living creatures. Humans can be funny about that and I fear some of their backwards superstitions may have rubbed off on our esteemed country man.”
“Oh! Yes, they believe that the cameras will steal their souls?”
“You’re thinking of primitive tribesman, I believe. No, it’s that odd notion of “privacy” that they have. They’re not accustomed to normal monitoring the way that we are.”
“I don’t know how they ever feel safe here,” Parmak says wishing that he had a drink. Garak had assured him they could hit up a gas station before catching the train back to the bus terminal- the different types of vehicles humans had for travel were amazing!- but that doesn’t really help him terribly now.
“That’s why they have guns, Kelas,” Garak explains and thinks that perhaps they ought to stop at the bookstore as well and pick up a few more titles from the suggested reading list. The list that Damar had given them read likea syllabus at the Science Academy, boring and academic but he supposes there has to be some useful information in there somewhere.
“Do you think Damar owns a gun?” Parmak asks looking around the kitchen to where one might hide a weapon. Garak’s answering grin is a wry one.
“I should hope not for your sake, Kelas.”
“Do you think I’ve offended him?” Parmak asks, the very soul of concern as he looks down the hall expecting Damar to reemerge at any moment. Garak thinks about answering that honestly for just a moment before dismissing such a ludicrous notion outright.
“I think he’s just feeling under appreciated, my dear. Perhaps you ought to ask him a question so that he can feel useful.” In hindsight, of course, Garak might consider the error in the generality of such a statement, but in his defense, all the dog hair is making him feel a bit congested. Though it really shouldn’t have surprised him when Kelas perked up upon Damar’s seemingly reluctant reemergence, eager to soothe whatever offense he perceived he’d given.
“Alright then well, before we continue, do the two of you have any questions or concerns that I can address?”
“Yes!” Parmak says, adjusting his spectacles glad that he can help make Damar feel useful. “Can you tell us the best place to get inexpensive condoms on Earth? I think Elim and I are going to need a lot of them.”