Jurgen sighed. Eve clearly didn't understand. She went on about pleasing the block and crap. He didn't care about that, he needed money. "No. Look, I need money. [I]We[/i] need money. We don't need crowds to be happy, we don't need people betting with us. We need money. The more people we have betting against you, the more money we make when you win." he took a deep breath and looked at his chronometer. They had just enough time. "No throwing matches. Just win us money." he said, and then he started to lead the way. "We're going to a different arena for today. I don't need those guys fucking up our odds." the cyborg declared, "We've got sixty credits, and I need you to turn that into as many as you possibly can." And with that, Jurgen set a brisk pace toward the arena on the other side of this particular section of the junkyard.

The place they were headed was a lot less pleasant than most. It was run by a gang, and crewed by vicious bookies who would happily take bets against a newcomer. And when it turned out that Eve was so much better than anyone else in the arena, the gang's bosses would be pleasantly surprised by their take. "Try to look small and weak, when we get in there." Jurgen suggested when they got closer. "The more they'll give us in odds, the less leg-work we'll have to do." He really didn't want to have to go someplace else today. If he could get the money he needed to pay rent and buy food, he'd be more than happy. If he couldn't, well, he and Eve would both wind up "deactivated" quite quickly...