“So, was it your uncle?” Wayne asked. “Yes.” “Crud. I owe you a fiver, then.” “The bet was for twenty.” “Yeah, but you owe me fifteen.” “I do?” “Sure, for that bet I made that you’d end up helpin’ me with the Vanishers.” Waxillium frowned, looking at his friend. “I don’t remember that bet.” “You weren’t there when we made it.”
