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Hector allowed the trebuchet to reset its position, then materialized another Amir-9 onto the launching platform and sent it flying, too. He looked over at Voreese again, waiting on word from her.

'He got that one, too,' she said after a minute. 'Come on, Hector. Change it up. Throw him a curveball. Or a fastball. Or a speedball.'

"A speedball? I'm pretty sure that's a drug thing, not a baseball thing."

'Look, I don't follow sports, okay? Just do something different. Give him a challenge. Think of it as training. For the both of you.'

"Training, huh?"

'Yeah.'

"Hmm..." He scratched his cheek, thinking.

'Unless you don't think you can get one past Roman. If you're afraid of a little healthy competition, I understand. I won't think less of you. Much.'

Hector tilted his brow at her. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Voreese. I'm not a competitive person. Like, at all."

'Oh, so you ARE scared, then.'

He sent another shield flying, just the same as before. He waited for the contraption's metallic groaning and scraping to quiet down before answering her. "Petrified."

'Wow. Okay, then. That's fine. I won't try to pressure you or anything. I'm just surprised to hear that the great Lord of Warrenhold is secretly a little bitch, that's all. Don't worry--I won't tell anyone.'

Hector chortled and shook his head. "You were better off trying to get me think of it as training. You were starting to convince me, but now I just wanna refuse on principle."

'Ah, shit, really? Well, it WOULD be training. That's basically what all healthy competition boils down to. Hence the term 'healthy' being included.'

"Uh-huh."

'Roman's getting really good at flying, but he could use an extra push. Something to really challenge him, y'know? Without actually endangering him. Or me, preferably. Think you could provide that?'