…“Of all the songs to sing,” Onna said, voice dripping with disdain, “Why did she have to sing ‘Melor Famagal’?” As his Ferengi companion winced and jammed fingers into her offended ears, Varh smiled wryly as he found the source of the sonic irritant – an impressive, well-dressed, four-armed woman at a piano. “Not a fan? I think our employer has a lovely singing voice.” “It makes my ears want to punch my brain for forcing them to endure that horrible sound.” “I’ve heard worse. I take it you’ve never heard Na’kuhl folk music?” “Should I?” “Not unless you’re particularly fond of grunting, hissing, oh, and a fair amount of yowling,” Varh said as the two neared the bar in Drozana Station’s VIP lounge. “All set to people striking metal tubes with spears, of course.” “I’ll pass,” Onna replied with a smirk. “I think I prefer that Klingon stuff that Big
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