The Cardassian climate beyond the courtyard was as arid as promised. desert and desert and desert. There in the garden was no better, the damp air here proved equally suffocating. The setting sun was so low it was out of view behind the Castellan's courtyard walls and served only to compound the chill rising in his blood. Fear or cold, who could tell- his skin rippled with gooseflesh all the same. "I had hoped you'd find yourself drawn here eventually." His voice was smooth, quiet. Lacking its usual confidence. "Anything was better than that war room of yours." A light chuckle, no humour in it. "I'd forgotten how alike you two are." A sigh. "Doctor Parmak sends his regards." "I take it he feels about as positively towards warfare as I do." "Less so." A pause, a breath. "I hope he's continued to be good for you." "He has at that. I owe him much." Julian smiles, trying hard to keep the bitterness from his face. Orange light hit halfway up the furthest wall, casting much of the garden in a warm glow. Sprinklers were running some distance away, barely audible but distracting somehow. The older man followed the narrow stone path and came to a stop beside the not-so-young doctor. "I hope Ms Douglas has been equally good for you." "I'd say so." He straightens his back, forcing his features into a blank stare, feigning intense interest in the stone of the far wall. "Would've been dead a thousand times over without her." "It is my understanding she is the one that called you to such deadly service, no?" His jaw tightens. He knew this line of conversation would come up eventually. "I had a responsibility." "Is that what this is, Julian?" his voice little more than a whisper. "Garak."
