Reality. Quark snaps awake at the bar. He looks like he's been to hell and back. Anxiously, he looks around the empty room, but the relief of realizing it's all been a dream doesn't help much.
“What have I done?!”
QUARK: This isn't my fault. (Dabo wheel stops.) SISKO: You lose. QUARK: No, no, no!
KIRA: Deny it all you want. You're responsible. SISKO: I hope it was worth it. DAX: How much latinum did they pay you? KIRA: Enough to buy a new conscience? O'BRIEN: Why, Quark? Why did you kill my baby?
every time I think I’m used to Ferengi, I’m jarred back to reality... ghoulish
confronted by the ghosts of future regrets... all doomed to death by Quark’s weapons sales.
SISKO: Hello, Quark. QUARK: You don't look so good. SISKO: That's because I'm dead.
Quark stares out into space. Gaila, having gotten his answer, walks away, leaving Quark alone with those little lights sparkling out there in the void.
“Look out there. Millions and millions of stars, millions upon millions of worlds. And right now, half of them are fanatically dedicated to destroying the other half. Now, do you think if one of those twinkling little lights suddenly went out, anybody would notice? Suppose I offered you ten million bars of gold pressed latinum to help turn out one of those lights, would you really tell me to keep my money?”
QUARK: The Regent is insane. GAILA: Stop being so judgmental. It's his bank account, not his mental health you should be concerned with. QUARK: But twenty eight million people. That just seems wrong. GAILA: If Hagath heard you talk that way he would toss you out the nearest airlock.
GAILA: Quark, maybe I didn't make myself clear. I've been in the weapons business forty years. I want to retire. QUARK: I don't blame you. GAILA: But I'm not going to be able to retire if my hand-picked successor can't control his conscience.
QUARK: Twenty eight million dead? Can't we just wound some of them? REGENT: I am here to buy weapons. Are you here to sell them? HAGATH: Absolutely. Quark was just trying to make a little joke, but unfortunately Ferengi humor doesn't translate too well. So let's forgo any further attempts at jocularity, shall we? And get down to the business!
Everyone else casually discusses the best way to eradicate an entire city and wipe out twenty eight million people, while Quark sits there looking shocked, as if he forgot what the point of weapons are. Think of all those potential customers, gone!
The Regent of Palamar... has the humorless eyes of a True Believer. He's attired conservatively if you consider Genghis Khan conservative.
REGENT: And how did she pay me back? By declaring independence for her homeworld. HAGATH: Betrayal. It's the one unforgivable sin. Especially when it's committed by someone you trusted implicitly. REGENT: Most arms dealers wouldn't understand such considerations. They have no ideals, no passions except for lining their own pockets. I always felt you were a man of honor. You're all men of honor. GAILA: How very perceptive of you, Regent. QUARK: Now, how can we help you?
“Well, that's enough fun for now. The Regent will be here shortly, and tonight we are going to make some money.”
HAGATH: We had you going there, didn't we? GAILA (having enjoyed the show): Oh, you had him, you definitely had him! HAGATH: Quark, I love you. It's magnificent, all of it. QUARK (shaky grin): So glad you approve.
bad touch BAD TOUCH
(accusatory) “This? He's going to like this?” “Yes.” “Well, he should. It's delicious.”
"Ruin you? I don't want to ruin you.” “Here we are, about to open negotiations with an important new client and this is the welcome you're prepared to give him?” “They told me he'd like it!”
"Quark, may I ask you a question?” “Go ahead.” “Are you trying to ruin me on purpose, or is this sheer incompetence?”