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"By the State! I'd have been jealous enough to kill him when I was a girl," Mila muttered, watching the human depart. Tain just shook his head. He knew better than to tell her hollow things like she'd always been the most beautiful woman in his eyes and still was.
It was true, but it had never had anything to do with her looks. She'd been born service class and yet still managed to do three times as much with a quarter of the resources as anyone else he'd ever known. If she'd been sponsored, gone to the right schools, he didn't doubt she'd have become a formidable foe.
"He looks like a porn star," Tain said dismissively instead, rolling his eyes. Julian Bashir was beautiful in a classical sense, but it did nothing for him. What had gotten under his skin was the man's intellect and audacity.
"You're Enabran Tain," Bashir had said evenly. Tain had marveled at that. Just standing in his presence was enough to shake the most hardened of Guls. Yet that fragile human creature had looked at him with barely disguised anger. If not for how readily he'd identified him, Tain would have wondered if Garak hadn't tricked the boy into coming in ignorance.
"I bet you could tell me all kinds of things I'd like to know, Doctor," Tain had said. Words like that from him had made men weep. Bashir had responded without missing a beat, offering to speak openly even as he mocked.
"Do you think he can actually do anything? Just having a database shouldn't be enough on its own," Mila asked. She would be correct if they were speaking about almost any other Starfleet doctor and most Cardassian ones. It really was remarkable how quickly Bashir had isolated the problem.
"He can," Tain said simply, thumb idly brushing an old scar. With a resolute thought, Tain put down his Kanar. Again, he was drinking too much—something that always seemed to happen when he thought about Garak.
Even as a boy, Garak had a knack of sorts. Something unlike the traits that had made him an obvious candidate to become an operative for the order. People just ended up liking him. Bashir had only relaxed once, slightly, and it was when he agreed to help.
"Thank you," Bashir had said sincerely. Tain had felt his stomach clench. The boy was relieved he was co-operating. Tain had gone on to try and wipe the smile from his face. To reframe the act of kindness and loyalty into an inconsiderate betrayal. It hadn't worked.
"You have that look about you. Going to try and flip the poor thing?" Mila asked. It wouldn't have been unusual for Tain to try and cultivate an asset or two on DS9 before his retirement.
"No, he'd be entirely useless between the smug federation morals and… everything else," Tain said, waving the idea off. Mila sighed, likely sensing something but deciding to keep her own counsel on the matter. Her use of "try" had been telling.
The incident brought up a memory he preferred not to think about. Tain had grown up with riding hounds, adored them. When Garak had taken to looking after a stray one, he'd pretended not to see.
Feral ones were dangerous, but it was an interesting game to play with the boy. To see if Garak could perform well enough in his attempts to sneak it food and care for it. He, in turn, added difficulty by appearing at an inconvenient moment or setting chores on the opposite side of the property.
Tain knew riding hounds. Feral ones didn't bond, not even if you fed them. He'd known Garak's was nearby, but he'd lost his temper, lashed out. The boy cried in pain and fell unconscious.
The hound had latched onto Tain's arm before he even realized it was approaching. It tore him open and only let go to retreat and take up a guard posture over Garak when the child let out a moan. It could have killed him, but it prioritized protecting Garak.
No, he wouldn't try to turn the good doctor. Julian Bashir would make a beneficial asset, but Tain couldn't help but see that riding hound when he looked at him. He wasn't a young man to take lightly, and his loyalties already laid elsewhere.