"Greetings my… you get the idea." Spider's breath shudders in anticipation. "I trust you have business? Dealings?" He pauses, waiting for you to produce something worthwhile.

Realization sweeps across Spider's several eyes. "Oh… no. You need a favor." You can almost smell his twisted grin as he chides your imposition between deep rebreather hits. "Well… what is it then?"

You nod, and Ghost replays segments of Fallen chatter, isolating a repeated name. "Bahaha. Old 'Lightkiller'? He has a big, arrogant, mouth." Spider sneers before beckoning you closer. "Hit the club." He pats your shoulder. "I expect… reciprocation. When it's needed." Spider draws deeply on his rebreather, nods, and slumps back. "You always bring me the best stories."