He wasn't looking at her at first and so thought her protests were in regards to Sam. Gene grumbled, pinching his nose in frustration. "Just once I'd like for you to listen to me--"

Looking up, the first thing Gene noticed was Diva's face. Terrified, anguished. A moment later he saw the flames licking up her side and he scrambled to his feet, alcohol forgotten in the rush. The Guv cursed, glancing into the stands at where Weber sat with a self-satisfied smile -- always that bloody smile -- and the hourglass sat still and silent.

Time was up.

Bending over, Gene grabbed the blanket, scattering food and the Party Four tin across the arena floor, lunging for Diva. If he could just get the blanket around her, maybe he could smother the flames. But as he took that first step, something seized up in him and he gasped, staggering. He couldn't breathe, his throat constricting and lungs wheezing for air. Gene grimaced, taking another painful step, shaking uncontrollably. Heh. The bastard hadn't been lying, had he? It seems Gene wasn't getting out of death that easily, either.

But he still couldn't let Diva burn.