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Ugh, look around!!

He sits up, gesturing to Rasine

You're some... immortal shapeshifter who can't even get drunk

Gestures to Savi

He's an immortal half-demon or some shit

Gestures to Cain

And I don't even KNOW what that guy's deal is

I'm surrounded by practically immortal people alll the time!! Y'know, you think it'd be cool, but it's not. I'm not as strong or as powerful as you guys. I didn't even think the dart would hit Savi, and if it did it's not like it would matter!!

At this point he is absolutely crying now

I used to be upset that if I ever made normal friends they'd all die before I hit my "40's" but now I'm the mortal one. I'm gonna die one day and you guys all get to just keep on living like it's normal!? It's not fair—

Hides his face in his hands and just starts incoherently sobbing

Garak has clearly been feeling properly awful for weeks. Julian has been watching him carefully, waiting for any chance to help or to comfort, and taking those opportunities where they come. But it's gone on long enough that when he has the chance to stealthily scan his sleeping partner, he takes it. It's unprofessional, it's an invasion of privacy, it's perfectlh normal for the two of them, but it's... devastating.

Pregnant. Julian tries to tell himself that it could be some sort of medical anomaly. An unfertilized egg growing out of control, a tumor that the body is mistaking for something else... His scan isn't specific enough to really know for sure. But Julian hadn't even known that Garak could become pregnant, and given his own deliberate lack of fertility... It's not necessarily a betrayal, but it feels like one, and Julian curses himself for being so nosey for nearly an hour before gently shaking Garak awake, his open tricorder still where his partner can see. There's no point in hiding his crimes now, but he does school his expression into one of sincere concern and apology rather than open hurt.

It was mid-day when a visitor came knocking rather insistently at the shop door. It was rare, though not entirely unheard of, for people to ignore the posted hours, but sometimes those on their lunch hour had no respect at all for shop-owners on theirs. Zan reassured Morse with a kiss to his forehead that he needn't get up, and he went down himself. He had, frankly, been expecting someone from the Oxford police to show up on his doorstep looking for Morse for weeks now, so to see a man matching DI Thursday's description is no great surprise, though it is unpleasant.

"Detective Inspector Thursday," the man introduces himself. "Mr. Fell, is it? I'm here to see Morse, assuming he's here."