Petunia

The offices of Property Rentals, Acquisitions and Notarised Contracts Ltd were drab and kind of claustrophobic. The ceilings felt low, and there was basically no natural light. All the doors were painted a sickly, faded medical green. Petunia didn't understand why Ms. Dewmeadow didn't move to nicer premises. Even the boss's own door was only distinguished by a plain brushed-aluminium nameplate:

Ms. C. Dewmeadow

Managing Director

Petunia knocked, then entered when called for. She'd tried to pick the best moment she could; it was close to the end of a slow day, but Ms. Dewmeadow hadn't slipped out early as she sometimes did. The door creaked, the action of its spring stiff.

"Petunia! How's my employee of the month today?" Ms. Dewmeadow pushed herself upright in her scuffed black executive chair, plucking discreetly at her blouse to straighten it – but not so discreetly that Petunia couldn't clearly see her doing so. She always wanted to nag her boss to sit up straight more. Good posture was important! But she hadn't quite found the courage just yet.

On the other hand, somehow she was here, now, asking something quite different. "Hi Ms. Dewmeadow, do you have a minute?"

"Always for you, Petunia." Ms. Dewmeadow grinned and waved her hand at the chair in front of her desk. The green bow she always wore in her hair bobbed with the motion. "Have a seat."

Petunia walked to the chair and hesitated. How to start? She rested her hand on the back of the chair, caught herself looking in the direction of Ms. Dewmeadow's desk, and dropped her gaze lower, just in case she saw something she shouldn't.

"What's up, Petunia, you don't look happy."

"Um, well, this might be a bit weird, but…" What should she say? How did you bring up something like this?

"Come on, you know you can always talk to me. Is someone giving you a hard time in the office?"

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"No, no it's nothing like that, don't worry. It's actually, well, I have a sort of… offer?"

Ms. Dewmeadow frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Um, well, a friend of mine is, well, she's starting a dragon racing team. Uh, she's asked me to be her team manager."

"You're not thinking of leaving us, are you?" Ms. Dewmeadow's voice rose in pitch, her frown changing shape slightly.

"No, no, it's nothing like that, she's not paying me or anything. It's just a hobby. I just, um," Petunia looked down at her hands, then forced herself to look at her boss again. "I was wondering if, um, you'd be interested, y'know, in sponsoring the team?" Despite her best efforts, her throat squeaked closed on the last word.

Ms. Dewmeadow blinked at her. "Huh… I don't know that I've ever thought of something like that. What's that, like, buying advertising from you or something?"

"Sort of, yeah." Petunia straightened. She'd prepared for this. "Most teams have a lot of funding from advertisers so I've been looking around to see what we could do. Obviously we're small because we're just starting out but I wanted to see how you'd feel about it. Um. What do you think?"

"Well, I don't know, how much exposure would it give us? What level are you going to be competing at?"

"Oh, it's the Imperial Championship, Phoebe – my friend – has a lot of experience in smaller series and she wants to step up to the big leagues, you know?"

"By starting her own team from scratch?" Ms. Dewmeadow's eyes went wide.

Petunia tried not to flinch. She couldn’t explain Phoebe's situation with the Hyperios, not right now. "Yeah, she, um, she wants to do things her own way. But she's really good, she's definitely going to do well in the races!"

Ms. Dewmeadow frowned and folded her arms, and Petunia's heart sank. The boss said, "I'm not sure about this, Petunia. How much money are we talking about?"

"Well, I don't know, it doesn't have to be much to start with, you know?" Petunia tried to chuckle without sounding too embarrassed and it didn't go well. "Um, every little helps, but maybe it could go up if we're more successful?"

The expression on Ms. Dewmeadow's face said she wasn't getting anywhere.

Time to play her trump card, then. "I don't have hard numbers because teams are very secretive, but it must be quite a lot of money sometimes. Even a midfield team like Augir is sponsored by companies like Contract Orders Network."

"CON?" Ms. Dewmeadow rocked forward in her seat, hands suddenly gripping the edge of her desk, the beginning of a screech in her voice. She hated PRANC's larger, older rival. "This Augir team, can your friend beat them?"

"Well, Phoebe thinks she can. I don't know that much about the races, you know? But I trust her."

"Okay, Petunia, you've got a deal. I'll see what I can rustle up. And a bonus every time you beat them, you hear?"