“Doctor, I’m fine.”

“You said you had a sore throat and you can’t take it back. Open up.”

“Can’t you use your medical tricorder?”

“Personal touch is best sometimes. Now stop talking and open your mouth.”

“Doctor, really, I don…” (the rest is unintelligible)

“Say ‘ahhhhh’.”

“…”

“Garak…”

“Ahhhhhhhhh.”

“Swallow.”

(Garak swallows.)

“Does it hurt when I press here?”

“Really, Doctor, those ridges on my neck are rather personal…ow! Yes, it hurts.”

“Hmmmmm.”

“What?”

“You’re definitely sick.”

“I didn’t need an invasive examination from you to tell me that.”

“You have tonsillitis brought on by Kinvarian fever. You need antibiotics, hot tea with honey, and to rest your throat.”

“Rest my throat.”

“Yep. No talking for twenty-four hours.”

“But Doctor…”

“Ah ah ah. Shhhh.”

“Doctor, I…”

“Keep talking and it’ll be forty-eight hours..”

“…”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s for your own good.”

“…”

“Garak!”

“…”

“Fine. I’ll come over to your quarters tonight and read to you from The Never Ending Sacrifice, how about that?”

Damn, I should have made it 26 and 52 hours since that’s how many are in a Bajoran day. I think. Not looking it up.