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quark

Quark's, Friday

One of the dabo tables was acting up, and Quark's usual method of attempting repairs -- kick it until it started working again -- wasn't proving very effective. "This never happened back on Deep Space Nine," he grumbled, kicking the thing again while the dabo girl assigned to work it lounged at the bar and flirted with a~~n NPC~~ customer. For free! Those flirts were supposed to gain Quark profit!

"Stupid piece of --" *kick kick* "-- actually making me miss that idiot brother of mine. And O'Brien!" *kick* "O'Brien would have had this all fixed up in minutes and then buy himself six rounds of beer!" *kick kick kick CRACK*

The dabo table let out a sad little tinkling noise, much slower than the usual sound of its wheel spinning. Its lights all went out and it jerked to a halt. Quark flung his hands in the air.

"Fine! I'll just have to replicate a new one!" He spun on the dabo girl at the bar. "You! Go wait some tables!"

"Yeeeeeeah," the girl said. "I think I quit."

Quark threw his hands in the air. "Fine. You weren't worth the do-lars anyway."

Welcome to Quarks!
Food! Drinks! ~~Games!~~ Holosuites!
NOW HIRING

[open!]

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Quark was going to need a drink of his own, at this rate.

After hearing so much about this place in Quark's pitch for a lower rent, Amaya figured she was a bit overdue in checking it out. She didn't know what to expect, really, since it all sounded ridiculous to her, and yet, somehow, it was about what she expected.

She didn't seem too terribly impressed, but there was a bar, so it wasn't all that bad. She'd been good about saving lately, too, so a little tavern-related splurge wasn't too far out of order. Even if she did sigh a bit forking over the money for one.

"Welcome to -- oh, it's you." Hello to you, too, Quark. "Well, what'll you have? And remember: you turned down my discount offer. Don't expect to get a better price just because we share quarters."

Amaya huffed, her displeasure remaining firmly in place, though at least her tone seemed a little wry. "Cheapest thing you've got that isn't just the swill at the bottom of a barrel," she said, with the smallest flinch of a smirk at the corner of her lips. "No room for extravagance when you've got cheapskate housemates."

And, yes, she realized this statement could just as easily be applied to either of them.

"Trust me, I've noticed." So could Quark's response, really. He picked up a glass and poured a pint of the cheapest beer he had. (It was aggressively cheap. The only reason why it was on tap instead of in cans was because Quark had found out that the island wasn't in one of the places the little letters on the top said he could get money back for recycling it.) "Say, you're a mechanic. How're you with electrical engineering?"

As long as it actually had alcohol, Amaya wasn't one to complain. Besides, he had her interest now, and her head tilted. "Around this place?" she asked, and she scoffed. "I'm working on it. The technology here, fascinating as it is, is vastly superior to what I'm used to. I'm not ashamed to admit there's a learning curve, but I'll get there soon, that I can promise you. Why do you ask? You haven't already broken something in your pretty brand-spanking new what-ever-you-call-it here, have you?"

She sounded surprised, but wondered if she she should have been.

Edited 2017-12-01 22:30 (UTC)

"Of course not! The girl responsible for breaking it's already been fired." Or, you know, had quit and was drunk at the other end of the bar. And hadn't actually done it. Same thing. "One of my dabo tables has gone on the fritz. It's a pretty simple piece of technology. If my idiot brother could handle it, I'm sure you'll be adequate."

Never mind that Quark literally couldn't, so his "idiot brother" obviously was at least smarter than him in that department.

"Idiot brother, huh?" Now Amaya's crooked smirk had found its fully satisfied, smug position on her face as she folded her arms in front of her. She wouldn't say it, but they both knew she was wondering where that put him.

"Are you saying you might have a...job for me, Quark?"

Surely, he knew that she wasn't going to do it out of the kindness of her heart...

Of course not. She clearly wasn't one of those soft-hearted hu-man weenies like he'd met on Deep Space Nine. He was going to have to cheat her out of her fee fair and square.

"I'll even give you the first chance to bid for it."

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves here," said Amaya, holding out her constantly gloved hands, because while she wasn't soft-hearted, she still had a healthy perspective on her own abilities. "Let me have a look at this dabo table, and then maybe I can get you a better estimate. See what I'm in for. If it's even remotely like that blasted Squishy machine at the store, then I'm just going to walk right out that door. I'm ninety-nine percent convinced that machine was constructed by the most sadistic sort of wizard that ever existed."

"I met the man who owned that store before you," Quark said. "You're not far off."

That squishy had been mostly ice! And the Merchant had wanted to charge multiple coins for it! Clearly sadism was at work there somewhere.

"Dabo tables are right over there. Don't start dismantling the one that's working, now. I don't want to have to potentially replicate two of them!"

"That man's no wizard." Pure hatred seethed out of a Amaya for a brief flash of a moment. "That is a crook of the highest order."

She was not about to get started on that, because if she did, she was going to end up having to owe Quark about a year's worth in rent for damages.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that getting her gloves dirty in something technical was just the thing to distract her from that line of thought. She honed in her focus with sharpened-blade accuracy toward the table in question. "No worries there," she said, stroking her chin as she moved over for an ancillary consideration. "If I can't work a little reverse engineering, I might as well hand in all my tools now."

". . . Yeah, sure." Quark tuned out even simple phrases like "reverse engineering" when people started getting technical. "Well, let me know if you need to rent a tricorder or something."

Amaya paused, stuck somewhere between ooh, what's a tricorder? and rent.

One side very clearly won out a mere second later.

"Ooh, what's a tricorder?"

IT SOUNDED FANCY. AND TECHNICAL.

"Don't have those by this century yet, huh?" Quark mused. If he were one of those Federation weirdoes, he'd probably refuse to let her touch one for fear of contaminating a timeline.

Of course, if he were worried about that, he wouldn't be here at all, so.

"It's a marvelous piece of tech. Takes all sorts of readings so you can diagnose problems before you even open anything up." And that was the limit of Quark's understanding of them. "Pretty basic mechanic's tool where I'm from. Like those . . . bangy things of yours."

Hammers. He was comparing it to a hammer.

"A...hammer?" Amaya was giving you quite the look, Quark, because who didn't know the proper term for a bangy thing? In a way, though, it filled her with a sudden sense of purpose. Obviously, this poor strangely-eared space fellow needed her.

Bangy thing, indeed!

And then her face twisted with uncertainty as she truly considered the tool. "It sounds...efficient," she said. "I like that. But it also sounds like it sucks all the fun out of the whole process...."

Her intrigue about the fascinating technologies of this world and beyond was winning out, but not before her wallet had a say. And she couldn't help wondering if they'd ever have a conversation that wasn't mostly negotiation.

Probably not.

"How much to rent it?" she tentatively ventured.

Edited 2017-12-01 23:51 (UTC)

Oh, the joys of talking to a Ferengi.

Quark considered. On the one hand, a tricorder was clearly the most advanced tech that Amaya would likely ever lay her hands on, and thus was immensely valuable and should be priced that way.

On the other, if she said "no", he wouldn't get any money out of her at all, except for that beer.

"Ten an hour," he said. "And it has to stay on the premises."

For your not-the-danger-shop modding pleasure.

Holosuites are usually my go to "I wish they were real" pick from Star Trek tech. But today? I want a medical tricorder than can magically heal my damn arm.

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Quark's, Friday

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