The dim light of the club was hardly fit for a myopic young Centauri, so Vir heard the ambassador bellow his name before he saw him- and he stumbled several times over people and chair legs as he crossed the room, paperwork in hand, toward Londo’s table.
“Ah, if it isn’t my killer of merriment,” Londo said as Vir, apologizing profusely, mopped a spilled drink off a young lady’s blue dress. “And you have brought work, I see?”
“Just a few things. I-I-I was starting the preparations for the negotiations over the trade routes in Quadrant 16, and I just had a few- oh!” Vir cut himself off with a squeak as Londo firmly plopped him into a nearby chair. “Or, you know, I-I could sit and watch the show.”
“Vir,” Londo began in a stern baritone. “You have lived on Babylon 5 for quite some time now, yes?” Vir nodded, suddenly apprehensive. “But it occurs to me that, in all this time, I have not properly introduced you. So- sit. I will buy you a drink- and perhaps,” Londo added with a wave of his hand and a flash of his feral teeth, “see to some other services- and you will come to know Babylon 5 as I know it. Yes?”
“Oh, but I-I don’t drink, Ambassador.”
More than that, there was a scent hanging in the air that was activating his asthma. But Londo paid Vir’s protestations no heed, and soon Vir found himself shyly resisting the lips and wandering hands of a slender alien woman, his blush deepening to the approximate color of a linfra berry.
From that point forward, Vir never brought work to the Dark Star.
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