Petunia

Petunia stood on the stadium concourse, trying not to fidget with the microphone the DNN team had given her while she waited for the camera to come to her. It was heavier than she'd expected, and big enough that her hand looked childish wrapped around the stem. She still wasn't quite sure how best to hold it when they brought her in. The production assistant, Peter, had shown her a couple of different ways when she asked, but they both felt awkward.

A little way to her right, where the camera was currently pointed, her two hosts held their own mics with considerably more comfort as they chatted easily through their introduction. Sam Tinbru made Petunia think of several of her uncles, except for the dove-grey crownfeathers folded neatly around his temples. He had the same kind of smart but unassuming shirt buttoned over the same kind of rounding chest, the same kind of slowly-receding hairline, the same permanent, affable smile. Apparently he'd been a racer himself, a long time ago, but he didn't look anything like the current riders she'd met.

Bob Anmo, though, did look like he could have led an Imperial League team. He was shorter and slighter than Tinbru, and despite his hair being fully grey and his face lined, seemed distinctly more intense, as if he'd just been packed into his frame a bit tighter. She was more than a little afraid of his questioning. She had to remember to call him 'Bob', not 'Mr. Anmo'. Phoebe had been adamant about that.

The producer waved, catching Petunia's eye, and mimed the start of a countdown. Petunia took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and focussed on the presenters.

Tinbru was saying, "…the storm of controversy and rumour that's formed around our newest team. We're very fortunate to be joined today by the Team Manager of Tenebrae, Petunia Platt."

Petunia took her cue and stepped forward, trying to picture the camera's field of view and make sure she ended up inside it as it turned to include her. She was glad neither of the men was particularly tall – both still had several inches on her, but they weren't as towering as they could have been.

Sam finished, "Thanks for joining us, Petunia."

Petunia bobbed her head, bringing the mic up close to her mouth, arm held flat against her chest. "Happy to be here- Sam." She caught herself in time.

"Let's start as gently as we can," Sam smiled. "You're here and Phoebe's racing this weekend. How's she doing? It was a nasty fall she took in Baleara."

"She's doing well, yeah, we were very lucky that it wasn't worse, that the recovery team got to her very quickly and so on. We're very grateful to the venue staff and the medical team."

"Is her performance suffering?" Sam's tone was that of a concerned relative, but the question had knives in for the unwary. He went on, "We might have expected a little more pace from a small dragon like Soot in yesterday's qualifying conditions."

"That was a tactical choice, yeah," Petunia nodded. "We're not letting her push herself too hard this weekend." Then she let her tone get a bit stronger. "With where we are in the championship, we're pretty comfortable, and it's better to ensure she gets back to a hundred percent fitness."

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"Grand, glad to hear it." There was a slight change in Sam's posture that Petunia was getting used to spotting on people like him – the older business types around the sport – when she stood up to them. Unlike some of the others, though, he covered it well. "Petunia, I'm sure you'd rather not, but we have to talk about some of the rumours around the team over the last few weeks. Phoebe's been dropped by her PR team, we know that means a lot of lost income, is that going to be a problem for the team?"

"No." She shook her head what she hoped was firmly. "Phoebe's personal endorsements are separate from the team's finances. Our sponsorships weren't secured through her management, and they remain in place."

"Glad to hear it. And the move to the new headquarters in Rindburg? We know you had to move in quite a hurry, how are you settling in?"

Petunia couldn't help tensing. It was easy to see how this would lead into the harder question she was dreading. Still, she knew how to handle this one at least. "It's still a bit untidy there, yeah." She managed a smile. "Don't ask for a tour just yet, ok?"

That got a chuckle from Sam, and she thought she caught a glimpse of Bob winking at her out of the corner of her eye. Then Tinbru sobered again. "Your previous building was broken into just after you moved out, and we've heard some pretty shocking things about the state it was left in. There have been rumours that you've been targeted by an organised crime syndicate, even some about former debts. What can you tell us?"

"Well, I'm very happy to say that all our team personnel are safe." Petunia pushed again. She'd practiced this bit in front of the mirror in her hotel room for an hour that morning. "We're very fortunate that we moved when we did, and none of our people or equipment were at the farm when it was attacked. The police are investigating, and I really can't comment any further on that." She paused and fixed Sam with a deliberate glare. "We don't know where these rumours are coming from. No-one has made any substantive accusations against us, and Tenebrae is aware of no criminal investigations into the team, any of our personnel, our sponsors or our business partners."

"Good, good." Sam said, almost under his breath, as if he couldn't remember his segue.

Mr. Anmo turned and leaned a bit closer to her. "Petunia, you've achieved remarkable things for such a small team. Three wins, Phoebe's second in the championship, and it's early to say this but you're in good shape for fourth in the teams competition if things keep up as they are. Do you think there's been a tendency to underestimate you? To not treat you as a serious entry?"

The question, and its implicit statement of support, surprised her. She'd expected Anmo to go after her about Soot's behaviour at Baleara. She managed, "Well, we are serious. Phoebe's very serious, yeah. If people wanna underestimate us, let them."

Anmo nodded, smiling without a hint of cynicism. "Good answer. What do you think you can achieve, today and for the rest of the season?"

"Well, obviously today, with the penalty and where we're starting, it'll be tough to make progress in the race, we're a long way from the points." Maybe she could push aside the implicit question about Soot's penalty if she moved on quickly enough. "For the rest of the season, we intend to keep doing our best, to keep winning and competing. We believe we can win the championship and we'll do everything we can to accomplish that."

Some signal passed between the producer, hovering behind the cameraman, and Sam, and Sam recovered himself enough to say, "Petunia, thanks for joining us, it's been great talking to you."

"Thank you." She bobbed her head again and stepped back, lowering the mic. She managed to turn and get properly clear of the shot, following Peter's hasty directions, before she had to take a long deep breath and shake her head. Sparkles danced briefly at the edges of her vision as she handed off the mic and turned to leave.