Just a short update this time. Next update is HUGE, so we didn't think you would mind.

Anyway, blah blah we don't own this blah blah we don't own that blah blah you know the drill.

xxxxxxx

Londo Mollari shifted uncomfortably beside his large white horse. He glanced up at the directors and then looked to Bester, who was mounted on a horse a little way behind him.

"You, telepath..." he raised an eyebrow. "Can you tell me when these people are going to start the scene, hmm?"

Bester nodded at Constellation. "She is dreaming of her paid vacation. He..." he looked at Sythar. Sythar met his gaze, and his eyes narrowed. "Gah! His thoughts are screaming in my head. Get him out! Get him out!"

"What about him?" Londo asked, pointing at Montana.

Montana smiled, his fangs seeming to grow another centimeter in length.

"I don't want to know." Bester moved the horse back a few paces and rubbed at his temples.

"Roll 'em," Constellation said.

Londo sighed and began to pace around the scene. With infinite care he placed his feet in the marks that had been left by Marcus and Garibaldi. For a moment, he frowned, touching a finger to his forehead, and then he looked up at Bester.

"Yes, I know. There was a mighty duel..." Bester said.

"Stop reading my lines." Londo replied. "It is not right."

Bester raised an eyebrow. "Your lines?" He smiled. "I was reading your mind."

"There was a great duel." Londo glared at Bester. "It ranged all over. They were both masters."

"If there was a great duel, how come there is no blood?"
"I do not know!" Londo stamped hard at one of the marks and half erased it from the earth. "When Centauri fight, that is proper dueling. Wine, women, song, and death, yes? A good way to go. Here, neither went. Or, rather, they both did."

"What are you talking about?" Bester rubbed his forehead again. It was barely worthwhile reading the minds around him, they brought more pain than enlightenment.

Londo looked off into the distance. "The loser, he ran off alone." He paused. "Coward."

In the distance, the vague and undecipherable shouts of Garibaldi could be heard.

Londo shrugged them off. "The winner followed the footprints towards Narn."

"Shall we track them both?" Bester asked. "And kill them?"
"That would teach them a lesson," Londo said cheerfully. "But the loser is nothing. Only the Princess matters. Clearly this was all planned by the treacherous Narns. We will bomb their country into submission, we will teach them who is master, we will triumph!" He rubbed his hands together.

Bester sighed deeply. For the moment, it seemed that he was doomed to ask all the inane questions that the directors wanted answered. "Do you think it might be a trap? No, I can see that you don't. Never mind, say that you do anyway, and let's get this scene finished."

"You ruin everything, do you know that?" Londo said.

"Yes. It is my one consolation."

With a hefty leap, Londo managed to make it onto his horse. "As to yourrr question: I think everrrrything is a trrrap. This is why I am still alive, hmmm? Yes, somebody wrote this charrracterr forr me." He turned the horse and rode off. After a moment, Bester followed.

"CUT!" Sythar boomed. Everyone ducked.

Nothing happened.

Then... there was a faint hiss and a sudden pop.

Sythar glared at Montana. "You and your fangs are ruining all my lovely sound effects!"