"You will adapt to service us." The blond man licked his lips.
"Will he ever!" the short man agreed. "He is smokin' hot."
"I think the leather outfit," the blond mused.
A bearded man held out a collar. "We are the Lone Gunmen."
The short man grabbed it. "I'll do it."
"Dammit, Q," Picard shouted. "I'm sorry for kissing her. Get me out of here--I'll make it up to you."
The collar snapped around his neck and a skilful hand slid across his chest.
Maybe a little assimilation first and then the rescue.