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Damar sighed when the door opened, putting down the glass he had been drying. The clanging of the bell had interrupted his concentration, but he would be damned if he served out of glasses covered in water marks. Looking up, he was shocked to see a Vorta. The poofy hair, purple-tinged skin, and atrocious fashion were unmistakable, especially after the months of televised alliance proceedings.
The Vorta looked around with wide eyes, taking in the dark yet clean bar. Damar found his eyes trailing along the alien’s body before guiltily snapping back to the glass in front of him. The last time he had looked at a non-Cardassian- no. He wasn’t going to think about his time with Dukat. There was a reason he had left when he’d been offered that promotion.
“Excuse me,” a lilting voice interrupted his spiraling, “what do you serve here?”
Damar chuckled as he looked up. “Kanar, like the sign says. Mostly local vintages, but I have a few others scattered around.” He looked the Vorta over again, shaking his head. “You ever had Kanar before?”
“Nope!” The little alien bounced on his heels, an unnerving smile crossing his face. “But I want to understand what your species sees in it.”
Gesturing to a barstool, Damar grabbed a flight of smaller glasses and began pouring a wide variety for his odd customer.
“What brought you here, anyways?” Damar gestured around the small, mostly empty bar, “I’m sure there are higher-end places you could go to.”
“Perhaps, but I have been to many planets throughout my lives and have found that the best way to know a culture is to experience it at the level of an average citizen.”
Not waiting for a response from the very out-of-his-element Cardassian, the Vorta threw back two glasses, coughing at the thick liquid as he reached for another.
“Wha-” Damar grabbed the glass forcefully away, spilling some kanar on himself in his haste, “You’re supposed to sip it, not chug it!” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at the alien’s obvious confusion. “Cultural studies, right. Well, kanar is a social drink. You sip on it while around friends or in groups, leaving time for socializing.”
“Fascinating!” The Vorta’s large eyes were fixed on Damar, leaning forward in unabashed curiosity.
Damar felt a warmth flow through him at the attention. It had been a long time since someone had been interested in him in any way. Especially not someone he found attractive. Making up his mind, he poured a glass for himself and pushed another glass from the flight toward the smaller alien.
“My name’s Damar by the way. I’m the owner, if you couldn’t guess.”
“I’m Weyoun, fifth of my line. I’m one of the diplomats sent here to solidify the Dominion-Cardassian alliance.”
Damar raised his eye ridges. “And you’re slumming it in my little bar?”
Weyoun sat up straighter, his face the picture of indignance. “As I have already explained-”
Damar waved his hand, cutting him off. “I was teasing! Do you not do that on your planet?”
Weyoun’s eyes dimmed and he stared into his glass just long enough for Damar to feel bad about what had obviously crossed a line.
“My people have been rebuilding our culture for the past three centuries. The Dominion used to be… very different. The Founders, they… assimilated cultures into their empire. Often by force. The Vorta were genetically engineered to be their perfect slaves, to keep the others in line. 300 years ago we rose up against them to free ourselves and create the Dominion as it is now. However, much of the surface of our homeworld was destroyed in the process.” He chuckled softly and took another sip of kanar. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to become so maudlin.”
“Kanar can do that to you, especially after you chug it.” They shared a smile before Damar looked away, blue dusting his ridges.
“How did you come to own this establishment, Damar?”
“I left the military. I was a glinn under Dukat during the Occupation for a year. It was the worst year of my life and I quit when he offered me a promotion.”
The Vorta’s eyes got impossibly larger. “I was under the impression that was an incredibly taboo thing to do!”
Damar snorted into his glass. “It is. I’m lucky to have this much to my name.”
They fell silent, sipping their kanar and enjoying just being around one another. When Weyoun finished his glass, Damar smirked and grabbed something from under the bar.
“Here,” he poured the smaller alien a new glass. The liquid was lighter than the other kanars he had tried and had golden flecks swirling around, glittering in the dim lighting, “one of my own concoctions.”
“What is it?”
“Kanar brewed with a desert fruit that only ripens every 10 seasons.”
Weyoun looked again with more interest. Taking a sip, his eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.
“It’s sweet!”
Damar chuckled. “I take it that’s a good thing.”
At the silence, he looked over at the Vorta, blushing when he met the intense gaze being directed at him.
“You’re very interesting, Corat Damar.”
“How do you-”
“You think I wouldn’t look up any place I went to? It’s basic safety protocol.” Weyoun stood up from the barstool, putting down a handful of latnum in front of Damar before adjusting his jacket.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he handed Damar a folded slip of paper, “My comm code. Like I said, you’re interesting. I hope to see you around.”
Damar stood, shocked, as he watched the Vorta walk out the door. He looked back down at the paper. Sure enough, a comm code was neatly printed in glittery purple ink. He smiled as he tucked it into his pocket before turning to clean the glasses. He had a feeling his life had just gotten a lot more interesting.