Garak raised a brow ridge when the man stepped into his personal zone. Oh, how many times had he done that to Dr. Bashir? Of course, that only seemed to unnerve the poor human. Perhaps, in a deep secretive cave of his own being, Bashir expected the former spy to stab him, slice his throat, and shove his body down a waste extraction tube. Well, at least he had a right to be suspicious. Garak was by no means trustworthy.
But he didn't step back or away. Garak held his ground. He didn't make it through the Obsidian Order training by being intimidated by close proximity (although he did have a certain bit of claustrophobia.) Besides, physically speaking, pound for pound, he must have outweighed the Captain by at least a few kilos. But there was something ... in the air? ... that suddenly took his mind away and into contemplation. Cardassians had a very specific way of showing interest in each other, and though pheromones played a part of it, that part wasn't nearly as large as the more vivid discourse, arguing, and aggressive foreplay. So when Garak's body was suddenly overrun with an influx of pheromones (of which he was not consciously aware) he became confused.
He blinked, looking at the other man with a slightly less confident expression, as he tried to shake away these odd prehistoric animal thoughts that he suddenly found himself considering.
"Tight but loose. You do pose a most intriguing challenge, Captain. But I think that can be done. Do you have a color preference? Or should I go with my own best judgment of what would be flattering on you?"