Bond of Contests

Prak'kesh drummed a nervous staccato beat on the edge of the desk. Seated across from him, Aunor Mahal regarded him steadily, in silence.

"So…" Prak'kesh cleared his throat. "This is… about the Guardian Games?"

"I just have a few questions for you. Both of you."

Prak'kesh stilled his fingers. "I don't have a—"

"It's only fair," Aunor said mildly. "You're not the only one involved here."

"But I—"

A small flare of Light emerged at Prak'kesh's shoulder as his Ghost manifested physically for the first time in months. She bobbed midair in nervous greeting.

"…Look," Prak'kesh said, "We haven't done anything wrong. You can't haul us in for retiring early."

"I've hauled you in because you've been associating with known criminal elements both in and outside of the City." Aunor brushed a mote of dust from the desk with gloved fingers. "Do you know the penalty for rubbing elbows with exiles?"

"Hey! I had nothing to do with that Skimmer business. I get donations from all over. Y-you have to talk to whoever's in charge of Hangar security."

"I have," Aunor said. "Now it's your turn."

Prak'kesh and his Ghost shared a look. "But… we really are just… We take bets. We hand out prizes."

"Just a few questions, as I said."

"W-what do you want to know?"

Aunor leaned forward.

"Let's start with how long you and Spider have been working together."