"You're telling me these…'Skimmers' just turned up?" Prak'kesh prods gingerly at one of the boards with his foot. It floats gently in place at the center of the storeroom. "A donation for the games," Spider says distractedly. "Is that unusual?" He grunts, displeased, and gestures sharply—Arrha moves the painting slightly left of its current position, wobbling precariously atop his chair. "Usually there's a bet involved," Prak'kesh explains. "Or it's official Vanguard merchandise." This almost looks like one of the Neomuna skyboards, though, and the Vanguard wouldn't be passing that around. "Well, then it seems we've lucked out this year. The right, Arrha!" Arrha grumbles but obeys, hefting the frame into position. "I think that did it," Prak'kesh says, squinting at the painting. He doesn't see the point of it—a series of splotchy purple flowers along a dirt path, indistinct trees—but Spider is gazing up at it like it's made of pure Ether. "Your donor leave a name, at least?" Spider sighs and reaches for a datapad. "Egh, let's see…two shipments…personal vehicle, Skimmer…gift to the City…Ah, here—Concordat." Spider looks over at Prak'kesh, who shrugs. "No idea who that is."