Quark's, Friday

[wouldbenagus]

It'd been a long week. First of his employees continuing to milk Quark's evil-sickness induced suggestibility for all it was worth, then of trying to clean leftover webbing out of his suit. (He'd eventually just had to replicate himself a new one, which -- really, people. Did you think anit-matter-based powercells grew on trees?) Now, he was finally getting a chance to sit down and see just how much profit the island's little adventure had ultimately cost him.

"BETRAYED!" he howled. "How could something that cute have been a denizen of evil?!"

Look, some humanoids were into tribbles. Others preferred slugs.

"Maybe I can sell pieces of that stupid web stuff. . . ."

Welcome to Quark's!
Food! Drinks! Games! Holosuites!
still hiring

Quark's was open. Don'd mind the occasional bellows of grief from behind the bar.

Comments

The bar

[wouldbenagus]

Where the proprietor will try to gouge you every chance he gets.

The dabo tables

[wouldbenagus]

Where the wheels have all been set to prevent anyone but the house from winning.

Holosuites

[wouldbenagus]

Where honestly the house hasn't messed with this stuff because Quark doesn't understand the technology well enough to guarantee it won't go evil and try to kill him.

OOC

[wouldbenagus]

Fair warning, I'll be afk on a baking spree when I get home from work this evening.