Howard considers this. He picks at the bandage on his hand. He looks at his fingernails. When he looks back up his eyes are hard and cold, calculating, business-like.

"I want immunity. I want, later in the Arena, if it comes down to it, for you to think 'I can't kill this kid because we had a deal'." He chews the corner of his tongue. "And failing that I just want to know what you're up to."