Having Garak as your uncle and your mom sends you to him to spend every waking moment with him for a week.
It would either be one of several outcomes … either he’s the weirdest relative you have, the scariest person you ever met or one of the coolest people you’ll ever know.
There is an idea of a Elim Garak; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable… I simply am a tailor.
When I get to Worf’s place, I use the keys I took from his pocket. There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Worf’s quarters overlook the Promenade and is obviously more expensive than mine. I calm myself and move into the bedroom, where I find his suitcase and start to pack.
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