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: What are you doing in my closet? Brunt
: Conducting official FCA business. Quark
: In my closet?
: Why should I help you? You revoked my business license. Brunt
: I'll give you a new one. Quark
: You've got a deal.
: Congratulations, Quark. You're a Ferengi again. Quark
: I always was.
: So, the happy couple are back together. If the people only knew. Quark
: But they don't, and you're not gonna tell them. Brunt
: Really? Why shouldn't I? Quark
: Because the Nagus is ready for you. If you go against him, you'll lose, and you know it. Brunt
: I hate losing. Quark
: What Ferengi doesn't?
: I want you back in business. It gives me an opportunity to keep my eye on you, because one day you are going to make a mistake, and on that day, you're going to lose more than your license! Quark
: But that day is not today. Now, back in the closet, where you belong.
: A child... a moron... a failure... and a psychopath. Quite a little team you've put together.
: Maybe we should start off with something easier. Nog
: Like what? Brunt
: Like ambushing a couple of Bolians. Nog
: You couldn't ambush a Bolian if he was blindfolded and tied to a tree!
: No one's hiding and no one's escaping and no one's surrendering! What's wrong with you people? Have you forgotten the Battle of Prexnak? Rom
: Who could forget the most important battle in Ferengi history? Quark
: Ten Ferengi stood alone against 273 Lytasians. Gaila
: As I recall, all ten Ferengi were slaughtered. Quark
: The point is, we Ferengi are just as tough as anyone in the galaxy. And this is our chance to prove it, once and for all. Leck
: Quark's right. Let's do it for Ishka. Let's do it for the Grand Nagus. Let's do it for Ferengis everywhere! Brunt
: Let's do it for equal shares of fifty bars of gold-pressed latinum! Quark
: It always comes down to profit with you people, doesn't it? Gaila
: We're Ferengi. Quark
: And that's why I love you! Fifty bars it is, minus my usual finder's fee.
: In a half-hour, we'll have Moogie back and we can all go home.
[everyone sighs with relief
: Home - to the torrential rains of Ferenginar. Brunt
: You know what I miss most? The rotting vegetation. Quark
: Yep. Rom
: And the dampness. Leck
: Oh, to stand once more in those rivers of muck. Keevan
: Oh, I only wish I could be there with you.
: Brunt, FCA.
: My house is my house. Brunt
: As are its contents.
: Oh, it's good to see you, son. You look well. Rom
: And you look... dressed! Brunt
: Your mother... is wearing clothes. Quark
: Mother! Get undressed this instant!
: I sincerely hope I never see any of you again. Quark
: The feeling is mutual.
: You are a disease, Quark, a festering tumor on the lobes of Ferengi society; and it's my job to cut you off!
: Take my assets, revoke my Ferengi business license, do whatever you have to do, then get out! And if I ever see you walk into my bar again... Brunt
: Yes? Quark
: ...you won't walk out.
[Brunt has come to claim Quark's dessicated remains, according to contract
: Maybe I wasn't clear: I'm not dying. Brunt
: Maybe *I* wasn't clear: I don't care.
: It's never too early to suck up to the boss.
: Surely you're aware of the new regulation making all bribes tax-deductible. Quark
: Wait, wait, wait, wait - did you just use the T-word? Brunt
: You mean 'tax'? Quark
: Are you telling me there are... Ts on Ferenginar?
[Brunt's Nausicaan henchmen are throwing darts at each other's chest
: Doesn't that hurt? Brunt
: I'm sure it does. Most Nausicaan games do.