A Decent Proposal

"Oh, it helps, it helps," Val assured him. "Sure, they're intimidated by you. They'd never approach me when I'm with you. But if I pick them out and go home with them instead of you? It'll make them feel wonderful."

"Ah," said Gammon with a smile. He eyed the room with this new information in mind and narrowed his eyes slightly at a heavyset Trill man sitting by himself at the bar. "That one looks worth your time," he offered. "Unjoined Trill, recently widowed or divorced...and with money he doesn't mind spending on pleasure from the looks of that suit he's wearing. That's some high quality unfinished Andorian silk or an excellent knockoff. But it's not flashy, so he must be wearing it for the feel."

Val grinned and whipped his head back to face Gammon. "How do you know all that? How do you know he's widowed or divorced?"

Gammon gave a dismissive shrug and a hapless smile. "It's a gift." And the empathy didn't hurt. "But if you look closely at the how he's holding his drink, you'll see a place on his left hand where it looks like he wore a ring for years until recently. It's a human thing, wedding rings. So either he was married to a human or he and his spouse are terraphiles. He doesn't seem to be cruising for action, just sort of moping, see? So he isn't cheating. Although I think if he were a widower, he'd probably still be wearing it." He gave a shrug. "So maybe his spouse left him recently. So he's feeling pretty worthless and undesirable. And if he were a joined Trill, he'd have enough life experience to roll with the punches better. But look how sad that guy is."

Gammon tossed back the rest of his drink and set the glass on the table in front of Val. "Why don't you see about getting me a refill and feel him out."

Val picked up Gammon's glass and slid in an arc past the solitary trill on his way to the bar. He made sure to catch the man's eye and gave him a deceptively self-conscious smile.

The poor Trill looked even lonelier up close than he had from their table. He was like a Monet of sadness. He had a Saurian brandy in front of him that he was sipping mechanically, as though he felt he should be drinking but didn't really want it now that he had it. When Val smiled at him, he looked up in surprise, remembering to offer a weak smile only several seconds after he probably should have. And though he made no move to introduce himself, he did watch the light glitter off Val's very interesting necklace. ...Backlace? Whatever it was, it had his attention.

Val reached the bar, then glanced back at the man, pleased as punch that he was still being watched. He asked HJ for another drink for Gammon and brought it back.
"You look like you could use a massage," he mentioned to the man as he passed again.

"Ha," blurted the man, reaching up to rub at his neck and stretch his shoulders as if verifying that fact for himself. "Tell me about it."

Gammon leaned back at their table and watched Val work with something between admiration and resignation.

Val smiled. "Maybe I can help you with that," he said, fingering the neckline of his shirt as though his fingers were restless and desperate for someone to touch. "And you can keep me company once I'm finished with my friend," Val suggested, leaving the man to think about it and escape if he wanted to. He set Gammon's drink down.

"Help me with...?" the Trill man echoed in confusion before his eyes went wide. His surprise wasn't visible for long, though. At some point his brain must have reminded him that people who are single should play it cool, which is exactly what he tried to do next. "Oh! I, uh...well..." He looked around the bar uncertainly and then gave Val a smile and a shrug. "I mean, I don't want to interrupt your...but I'll, uh...I'll be around."

Gammon picked up his drink and lifted it to his smirking lips. "The fingers were a nice touch."

Val laughed. "We'll see about that later." He nibbled his bottom lip, excited as always at hooking a new client. "He looks nice. And not full of himself, like some people," he teased.

"I like being full of myself," Gammon replied with faux defensiveness. "If I'm not full of me, I'd be full of nothing or somebody else. And I like to do the filling, thank you very much."

"I figured as much," Val replied.

"What can I say," Gammon laughed, taking a sip of his new drink. "I tried it, it's fun, but it's not the most fun for a guy like me. Equality I can do. Dominance I can do. But I'm not big on vulnerability."

Val grinned. "Really? Having your most sensitive appendage inside someone's grip isn't vulnerable? Letting someone surround it with their muscle, or even their teeth?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Gammon replied with a slight cringe. "Fine, so maybe it isn't vulnerability strictly speaking that I'm not big on." He swished his alcohol while he tried to find just the right word. "It's letting someone else get inside me. Which, frankly, I find intensely more vulnerable than worrying about whether or not someone's going to injure me physically."

Val nodded.
"I felt that way about the Commander. He's a Betazoid, you know. It's just not right, poking around in someone's emotions - really violating." Val shivered a little, but didn't lose his good natured smile. "But it turns out they can turn it off and on. And he promises to turn it off when we're together."

Suddenly Gammon found something very, very interesting about his drink. He rolled his lips against each other and cleared his throat, although he didn't look particularly uncomfortable. Just like a manly man doing some manly thinking. "Depends on the species and the person, really, but, yeah. The general sense is sort of an extra intuition, like being really good at reading body language. And then more than that is usually something that requires effort on the part of the empath. And usually cultures with that sort of ability have taboos about using it in certain ways."

Val shrugged. "After mum and I were kicked out of the family, I never had my own space, or my own room, or anything. You remember. Sometimes I had to share my company and my body and my time with people I didn't even like. So my own thoughts, my own emotions, my feelings - those were always untouchable, and I could sort of enjoy them by myself. Even if I was feeling sad or angry, no one else could get inside there. Then I left Bajor and whoops - there are people who can get in there too. But you know.. at least I have my own room now."

Gammon's concentration on his cup was now at impressive near-Vulcan levels. "Yeah," he agreed a little gruffly. "It is incredibly violating to not have your thoughts or feelings to yourself. Regardless of whether or not you have your own room." He tossed back a good half of his drink and then looked up with a forced smile. "But he said he'd leave you that, right? Good. Starfleet types may be pompous moralistic jackasses sometimes, but they're usually good for their word."