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G'Kar caught up with him when Londo was on his way to the gardens, and for once, he welcomed the distraction. His conversation with Shaal Mayan and the sight of those children in medlab all served to drag him back to the past, and his heart was sick of it. The emptiness felt worse than ever now that it had been ever so briefly filled by Adira. Anything was better than having to think about this, even yet another argument with G'Kar.

"Mollari," the Narn said, " I know the Centauri care only for themselves, so I wasn't surprised you ignored the previous attacks. But after they did it to one of your people, even a degenerate like you has to be able to muster up some semblance of a spine. Sinclair must not be allowed to get away with this. If all the representatives of the League agree, we can force him to take action!"

"Truly, Sinclair has failed his duty," Londo replied, clicking his tongue. "In his place, I'd have had you arrested and put you in a holding cell after your charming exercise in demagogy. Preferably in one with a lost access code."

"How very surprising. But of course born tyrants are genetically incapable of grasping the concept of free speech."

"Free speech is overrated," Londo began, when he noticed G'Kar wasn't paying attention anymore. A second later, the Narn whirled around, staring at the shadows. Suddenly Londo recalled they weren't far from the place the two young Centauri had been attacked. But these human fanatics had picked a different race each time; surely, they wouldn't strike twice? He squinted; maybe something was there, moving, or maybe it was just the light above, flickering.

"Show yourselves, cowards!" G'Kar demanded.

Of course, so far no Narn had been attacked. It would just fit with Londo's usual luck to be in the vicinity of one when such a most desirable event would take place. He doubted that the humans would bother to remember the enmity between Centauri and Narn.

There was definitely something moving in the corner.

"Before you make the mistake of attacking the representative of the great Centauri Republic," Londo said out loud, "you should consider why he hired a Narn bodyguard. They've got a particular preference for tearing out limbs of foolish individuals, and they lack the intelligence to know when to stop, even if one were to order them to. Barbarians, I tell you."

He could hear clothes rustling while G'Kar glared at him. It was a pity that no one here appeared to be a betting man; Londo thought that wagering whether G'Kar or the unknown humans would go for his throat first would have been an interesting gamble. Apparently, however, G'Kar's glare was also clearly visible for anyone watching them. Upon reconsideration, no one attacked had been a particular good fighter; Londo was relieved, but not completely surprised when he heard footsteps retreating.

"You'll pay for this, Mollari," G'Kar hissed.

Londo couldn't resist.

"Does that mean your people still accept Centauri ducats for their services? Not that you actually did something."

"I'd rather lose an eye," G'Kar declared, "then work for you in any capacity whatsoever. But the fact these Earthers swallowed your outrageous lie tells me they are not nearly as much a menace as they pretend to be, and certainly not to my people."

He straightened his gloves, and strode away. Over his shoulder, he said:

"Your voice isn't needed anymore, Mollari. Do remain here and do the galaxy at large the favour of getting yourself branded, will you?"

That did it. Londo had intended to call security or at least to return to his quarters where he was safe, but now he was obliged to remain in the gardens, and choose between pondering the unreachable past or the less than thrilling future. And there wasn't even the pleasant prospect of G'Kar ending in an Earthforce security holding cell to look forward to anymore. Bah.

Wondering which of the forty-nine gods he didn't really believe in had it in for him, Londo continued on his way.