fandomtownies | Quark's, Friday

There was something wrong with Quark.

It wasn't so much that he complained of a headache before he even got the bar open. Quark would complain about anything at any time to anyone who even vaguely looked like they might listen. It wasn't the fact that he was petting and cooing over a very large slug with very disturbing teeth. He was a Ferengi. He was basically a very large slug with disturbing teeth himself.

It was the fact that every time the employees suggested something about the state of the bar, he agreed. Even when it was going to cost him money. Even when it was going to cost him a lot of money.

Welcome to Quarks!
Where everyone drinks for free!

"Looks good," Quark said, barely even glancing up at the sign when the bouncer showed it to him. "What does it matter?" he asked the slug cheerfully. "It's all coming down anyway. Yes it is! Oh yes it is! Who's a good little slimy monster? Who is? Is it you? Oh yes, it's you. . . ."

Quark's was open. Or maybe it was more accurate to say, it was open season on Quark's.

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Summer had been feeling weird...really weird...since she was heading back from the radio station yesterday, and it had only gotten worse. She had all these destructive tendencies just building and building and building, and so it made sense (or so she thought) to grab herself a bat and go play softball with some of those slugs that had been taking over the place. But it was funny...once she got outside, she had no desire to hurt any of them. Just the opposite, in fact, feeling fiercely protective of even the idea that someone might want to hurt these disgusting, adorable little slimeballs. But she still tingled with the urge to cause some havoc, like when someone cuts off your favorite song right before the good part.

She wandered around a little after her classes looking for a way to satiate it, when the sign at Quarks caught her eye.

"Oooooooh."

She hadn't thought of doing something destructive for herself. Drinking to a sort of oblivion suddenly had a very nice appeal, making all the genetic dispositions of her family sing out in chorus as she walked in to find her way to the bar.

"Everyone drinks for free?" she asked, as if to make sure she'd read the sign right.

"Wub-a-lubba-dub-dub!"

"If that's what it says," Quark said easily.

He was going to cry when he was back in his right mind.

He leaned on the bar, and the slug propped its front end on it next to him. "What can my friend and I getcha?"

"Awww."

Summer might have contemplated why she found something so repulsive so absolutely adorable (the slug, not Quark, to be clear) at the same time, but it really didn't matter.

And she shrugged. "Doesn't matter," she said, though her smile was vacantly pleasant. "As long as I don't feel anything anymore when I leave."

She, too, was going have a lot of regrets come Monday.

"What do you think," Quark asked the slug. "Klingon bloodwine?"

Everything about this was a terrible idea.

"Ooooh, what's that?" Summer asked, and then, as soon as she said it, she shook her head, lifted a hand. "You know what? It doesn't matter. It sounds really weird and badass, so let's do it! Pour me a double!"

Who knew all it took was a weird slug disease to pretty much finally turn Summer into her grampa? She didn't even bother stopping at Beth as a midpoint.

"Coming right up!" Quark said cheerfully. He found the biggest flaggon he had (which was admittedly still pretty small, the better to price gouge with) and filled it to the brim with his finest, real bloodwine. "So how've you been doing today?"

"Terrible," said Summer, shoulders sinking sightly. She pulled the flagon close once he was done pouring, not even really caring if it spilled, because, duh, it didn't matter, like, at all. "My head has hurt all day and all day yesterday, and I'm still wondering why I even bothered going to classes today, because it doesn't matter, like, at all, but then again, if it doesn't matter if I went to class, then it doesn't matter that I did, either, you know? It's all so dumb, what's the point? But, hey! At least there's booze!"

She lifted up the flagon in a little toast to the misery of the world and took her first gulp.

"OHGOD." Summer tried to not react, failed, started coughing, tried to not cough, then realized who the hell cared if she did cough? And then just about nearly coughed up one of her lungs onto the counter.

"This is awful," she said.

And then she drank some more.

"Isn't it just?" Quark said cheerfully. "I never touch the stuff myself. But it's the strongest thing you can get in the Alpha Quadrant. The Klingons know how to do booze."

"My grampa would love this stuff," said Summer, sipping at her a bit more tentatively. Each sip came with a whole next expression of disgust. "Can I get a bottle to go? Christmas is bullshit, everything is bullshit, but this'll make a great gift."

"To go orders," Quark mused. "You know, I've never considered doing those before." That was because it was harder to cheat money out of people once they'd left his establishment. "Sure, I can maybe do that."

This suggestibility effect was going to ruin Quark.

Quark's, Friday

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