19
“Relax,” Pulse whispered to him. “Just follow my lead, okay?”
The plan was simple—so simple that it made Quark anxious.
Together, the hatched a plan; they rehearsed, revised, and repeated as they traversed the field.
Pulse was assured that it was foolproof, but Quark was picking the strings of his sleeves.
It was too simple. They reminded him to take a deep breath and, again, affirm that there was no way for this plan to fail.
Quark tried to believe them, but the fear of what Gamal would do stayed at the forefront of their mind.
He did not need Gamal's wrath raining down on them like a meteor storm.
'But I need to know,' he reasoned. He needs to figure it out. It will drive him insane until he does.
Their shoes echoed as they walked the corridor. The guards were the same as before. Even if they weren't, there was no way to tell. Pulse led on and one of the guards held his palm up.“Hang on there,” the sentry was firm. “Unless you have clearance from Ms. Gamal—”
"I'm not here to go inside," Pulse put on a meek charm. They bowed with respect. "We are here to apologize for the other night."
Rightfully suspicious, the second sentry cocked his head. “There is no need for that,” they began.
Pulse was adamant. "I think there is. I didn't want you two to get into trouble because we didn't know better."
"It's nothing." The first sentry was disarmed. "We got a good ass chewing, sure, but there is nothing to worry about. Honest."
"It is for me. My friend and I never meant to rope you two into our diablerie. Maybe I can offer a special apology, a way to atone."
Quark felt a flare in their chest—Jealousy.
'Pulse is much too charming.' As the guards looked at one another, wordlessly conversing, Quark had to remind himself that this was, in fact, part of the plan.
Pulse was innately alluring. A natural flirt.
They had a face that put you at ease and a smile that left anyone at their mercy. Pulse was the best star for the job.
"A special apology?" The second sentry was intrigued. Quark shimmied out of the direct line of sight.
"Maybe a song would suffice?" Pulse explained. "I don't have any gifts or anything else of physical value."
“A song? By you? That would be—that would be lovely.”
“Any song you want. Nothing is out of range for me.”
Quark inched further to the side, closer to the door behind the guards.
“No doubt your song.” The second sentry quickly suggested. “We heard some of it the other night—Please, it would be an honor to hear it in person.”
'Score. No one can resist Pulse's song.'
Admittedly, neither could Quark. Once Pulse began their first notes, Quark was star-crossed once more.
The Guards fell into the lull of Pulse's spellbinding music, like how the first cooling waves on the beach washed over one's feet after the long trek through burning hot sand.
Quark felt that tinge of guilt. It was a crime to walk away.
It was their song; this was both the truth and the gift from the universe.
When Pulse finally made the motion to move, Quark yanked away his ears and slid through the doorway.
The Guards were oblivious to everything but Pulse.