: And now, the Ravishing of the Women!
Bashir, snapping awake
: Yes? Yes? Women?
: Hah! No. No women.
(On Bashir's groan and collapse.)
...And they say I have no sense of humor.
: There it is, Rom. My own moon!
: Brother, that's no moon. That's a space station.
..ohh, and they're firing at us.
: COUSIN GAILA! I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!
: Oh, come on, Benjamin! Surely a compliment wouldn't hurt. Say it!
: Fine. Fine! Diabolical
, I'll give you. But I will not refer to your latest scheme as masterfully cunning
: What is it?
: Plans for growing...me! Just imagine, captain, your own private Weyoun! A clone of your own, to see to your every need.
: A punching bag. It has possibilities.
: I was hoping you'd think 'butler'.