From: Jamie LeBlanc (plainsimplegarak_at_yahoo.com)
Date: Mon Feb 11 2008 - 23:09:17 PST
“Keep the Customer Satisfied” (Continued from "Trying
to run a station, chase after the kids and keep tabs
on the away team isn't easy....”)
~*~*~*~*~*~
Location: GATEWAY Station
Stardate: 2.80212.0205
Scene: Lonely Traveler Tavern
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Deputy sheriff said to me; tell me what you come here
for, boy?
You better get your bags and flee;
You’re in trouble, boy and now you’re heading into
more
Everywhere I go I get slandered,
Libeled, I hear words I never heard in the bible
But I’m one step ahead of the shoeshine
Two steps away from the county line
Just trying to keep my customer satisfied… satisfied.”
~Simon and Garfunkel, “Keep the Customer Satisfied”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Time index: About one hour before Clooney St. George
makes his debut in Kim’s post “Providing a Diversion”
Zel Rohan sat at the end of the bar, drinking
water and toying with the emerald glass of Aldeberan
whiskey that sat before him. Grek had called him
earlier in the day and hinted ever so lightly that the
figures weren’t selling fast enough. He suggested
(read: threatened) that Zel should advertise lest Grek
find a better salesman to replace him with, and then
the fat Ferengi went ahead to describe Clooney St.
George’s arrival on the station. The whole affair
told Zel one thing: he needed a drink.
Bob Windsor, the proprietor looked over, rubbing
a few of the mugs clean with a cloth and shook his
head. “Did you but whiskey to drink it or to play
with it.”
“Oh, I’ll drink it… when I’m good and ready to
drink it.” The mysterious little salesman replied,
sipping his water again.
“And how long will that take?” Bob asked,
pleasantly enough. The bar was fairly empty, so it
wasn’t a matter of Zel taking up premium seating. It
was more a matter of curiosity.
Rohan looked up, and let a slow smirk cross his
features. “Oh, about forty-five minutes.”
It earned him a look of curiosity from the
proprietor. “That long, huh? What’s up with the
timing?”
“I figure, I stay here where it’s nice and dark
and comfortable, eat something, finish this water, and
then slam this entire shot before I have to walk out
and put on a good show for a reporter.” The smirk
widened into a toothy but mirthless smile.
“Eh…” Mr, Windsor grunted back. “Don’t like
reporters, I take it?”
“Hate ‘em.” The Bajoran hybrid replied. “They
always bring out all the things no one really wants to
hear… or have heard. So I need the whiskey to get out
there and smile, but I can’t start too soon or
otherwise I’ll drink enough to projectile vomit on his
patent leather shoes.”
Bob chuckled a bit. “You never now – that might
make for a good story.”
Rohan rolled his eyes. “And it hardly makes for
a good business maneuver. It would be like you
getting up on stage and doing a striptease slathered
in mashed minted peas.”
The proprietor thought about this for a second,
winced and nodded. “I see your point.”
Zel raised his water glass to that and gave a
short smile. “Cheers.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Scene: Promenade
Time Index: The Clooney St. George interview.
One shot of Aldeberan Whiskey usually lowered
Zel’s inhibitions enough that he could plaster a smile
on his face all day and not let it fade. It also had
the odd side effect of giving him the personality of
an 8 year old on a sugar rush.
Two shots of Aldeberan whiskey calmed him back
down and loosened his tongue, making him dangerously
loquacious and flirtatious.
Three shots of Aldeberan whiskey almost always
led to Zel being on the losing end of a barfight.
Four shots of Aldeberan whiskey led to complete
systems failure, release of bodily functions, terrible
smell and general disgrace.
Zel Rohan adored Aldeberan whiskey. But it had
taken him 30 some of his 39 years of existence to
learn self-control. He was rather proud of that fact
and fully exercised that control whenever possible.
Which is why he had seven shots of water… and
only one shot of whiskey.
~*~
"Perhaps you'd like to tell me more about how these
action figures are made?"
Rohan sucked in a breath putting his best face
forward (which was, incidentally, the side where his
Bajoran earring hung.) “Well, as you can see the
figures are molded out of the state of the art plastic
fleshilene, which allows for superior molding and
gives an almost living quality to the toy surface.”
He gave the entire pitch he had practiced, in between
Clooney’s questions, letting the dolls get plenty of
camera time. He took in a breath as he brought his
interview to a finish. “Which makes all these pieces
long lasting collectors originals.”
By the time he finally shut his yap, Daisy found
that her feline legs were aching and she needed to get
out of the reporter’s hands. “Thank you, Mr. Zel, for
that enlightening look into the world of
collectibles.” As Clooney straightened up and let the
camera pan back on his attractive smile, the black cat
in his arms started to wriggle and mewl.
He stopped and carefully gathered up the clothes
she had shed, frowning. “And that concludes this
interview.” He did the regular FedCom sign off and
then turned to the crowd. “If you could all please
quietly disperse. I will see that the Commander gets
back to her quarters.” He turned to make sure Zel
wasn’t trying to follow him but the Cardassian hybrid
has mysteriously vanished into the clot of crowd.
He set Daisy down, petting her lightly, waiting
for the people to clear. His fine brows knit into a
note of concern. “Don’t worry, I’ll just put you and
your clothes into the Ops office right behind up and
I’ll let you take it from there.” He carried her
gently over, scratching her behind the ears and as the
crowd cleared he set her clothes into the empty office
and let the cat go.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Time Index: Several hours later
She didn’t know what made her turn down the
corridor where the irascible toy saleman was packing
up his cart of wares for the day, but after her
performance and the stresses of looking after her
children, she wanted to look into this man’s eyes and
let him know how selfish and petty he was for selling
those damnable toys
She had promised herself that she wouldn’t get
mad after she agreed to do the interview, but now with
her senior staff on the planet, she felt both angry
and alone. The chorus of ‘catwoman!’ from the crowd
still rang in her ears, and what she really wanted to
do was stare down someone responsible and make them
just a little bit miserable. Kirenna Trell was
unavailable, so Mr. Zel would be the next best target.
“How was business today?” she asked as an
opening, coming up to him.
Zel shrugged, carefully putting the Wingboy
display in its storage container. “Picking up after
the St. George interview.” He replied honestly.
“I’m glad that I was able to help.”
Zel didn’t miss the sarcasm and bitterness in her
tone, but at the moment he chose to play stupid and
ignore it. “Oh, yes, it will do wonders for the
Andaran charities.” He replied perkily.
“Wonders for lining your own pockets, too, I
imagine” the CO shot back acidly
He chose not to answer her question, and instead
answered her tone. “Why, my dear Commander, you
sounds troubled.”
“Troubled? Set myself for humiliation and
amusement for your own profit is a better
description.” Her eyes flashed angrily at him. “At
least Mr. St. George apologized about the whole
ordeal. You, on the other hand, enjoyed it.”
He looked up; his green eyes were dark and
mirthless. “No, in fact I did not.”
“Then why do it?” the Commander demanded, hands
on her hips.
“It keeps the customer satisfied.” Rohan replied
lightly, putting the plush cats into storage.
Daisy shook her head. Despite the fact that she
couldn’t see any malice in his expression she wasn’t
going to accept his explanations. “And just what else
to you propose to do to keep the customer satisfied
before all this is over?”
Zel blinked innocently. “Commander, all I
propose to be doing is bringing some merriment to the
children of this station.” He punctuated his claim
with a glittering smile.
The tall blonde gave a heated snort of laughter.
“Merriment to the children… right. Have you ever
though about which children you might be affecting?”
The smaller man let a soft expression float over
his features. “Do you have children, Commander?”
“Yes, in fact I do.” She stared down at him, her
deep brown eyes hardened as they slit almost shut.
“Do you have any idea of the insults and teasing my
children have been subjected to because of these
dolls?”
For the first time since he had set foot onboard
the station, Zel let his glittering salesman’s mask
fall down. It was a carefully calculated change,
executed as he looked down to dig through his cart,
and when he raised his face again, clear green eyes
burned through her angry gaze like rain through a
smoke cloud. Instead of bright and effervescent, his
voice was suddenly low and smooth. “Perhaps,
Commander, you should feel fortunate that your
children have the luxury of insults.”
Daisy stared back, her mouth flattening into a
thin, hard line. “That is the most asinine excuse I
have ever heard of, Mr. Zel.”
“Is it?” The little hybrid shot back. “I have
been to systems where children are so hungry that they
spend their time rummaging in stacks of garbage rather
than thinking up witticisms. Met youth who don’t have
time for words because they are too busy fighting
other youth for fresh water. Carried a girl in my
arms who didn’t even have enough strength to speak.
So, yes, I think that having the time and mental
stability to worry about something as petty as an
insult *is* a luxury.” He refused to break her gaze,
locking her with those cold green eyes.
Zel had hoped for a minute of silence to let that
sink in, but Daisy’s own fury overrode him. “And did
you exploit all of them, too?” she bit back, leaning
forward, aggressively.
The Cardassian said nothing; he simply kept his
eyes steadily upon her for almost a full ten seconds
of silence before he spoke. “Did you even listen to
what I said, Commander?” He paused for a breath,
watching her mind rewind and rehear the conversation.
“Not every planet out there receives the blessings of
the Federation. IN fact, many don’t. Consider for a
second that regardless of what these dolls do, that
you, your children and your entire Federation are
sheltered. Perhaps this is one tiny way of showing
you a glimpse of what else is out there.”
She hung back for a second, contemplating her
response, but by the time the GATEWAY’s commanding
officer found the words she wanted Zel had already
locked his salesman’s mask back on, and he fixed her
with his dashing smile. “Is there anything else I can
do for you, Commander?”
~*~*~*~*~*
NRPG: So I finally got that long-overdue post out.
As a sidenote, though Zel’s a great actor and
constantly has one of those ‘I want to sell you
something’ smiles on his face, he’s not usually
childish. He’s quite old and been around the galaxy
more times than he’d care to count… so I added the
whiskey part as both an explanation and as something
to play with later on.
Also, if you think of it… if Zels giving half of his
profits to charity, and he’s required to give half to
Grek… well, he’s making almost no money at all.
Something I’m sure he’ll do his darndest to hide from
Daisy (oooh… plotpoint? :) )
As an aside…I also killed my first hat target! :)
Kim: TAG!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Jamie LeBlanc
Civillian Zel Rohan
Irritating Salesman
GS2
"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"
~Julian Beck
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