Work Text:
Every time Garak opens his mouth, words get in the way. Oh, he’s using every word as he should, carefully calculating placement in the sentence, proper inflection of his voice, correct connotations to carry over the universal translator, just the right amount of ambiguous subtext. None of it matters, not in the long run. It’s an action he wants to take, something so extreme it would rip the words right out of his lunchmate’s lungs, as well. And he can’t do it. So he speaks and the meaning gets lost in the words. There’s a reason the truth doesn’t exist.