Work Text:
“I never see you in your green suit anymore,” said Julian Bashir.
“What’s that, my dear?” replied Elim Garak, who had heard every word.
“The suit you were wearing when you introduced yourself. I never see you wear it anymore.” Thank god, he thought. It made you look like a watermelon.
“Ah. That one.” He knew Julian loathed it. “It was getting old. I recycled it.” He considered a small bite of his stew. “I have plenty of the fabric left. I can always make another.”
“Oh, really?” Julian said brightly.
He might have fooled anyone else on the station, but Garak had made a careful study of the man. He chewed thoughtfully, then decided to be kind. “But I’ve grown weary of that particular shade of green.”