Welcome to Gaia! ::

~Meeting Wing Ting

It was just one of those days.

Wing Ting had just joined at the Circus, only to be sorely disappointed. Where was the happy? Where was the sparkly? It was happy and sparkly the first time she saw it - when there was the performing - but now, it was kind of blah. And Wing Ting didn't go well with blah. She much preferred happy and sparkly.

But I digress.

She was out behind the tents that day, scuffing her clean white shoes in the mud. She only had one pair of shoes. And a white, stark dress that she couldn't wear while she was working, so one of the older stage managers had banished her, saying that she could come and work as soon as she got some proper clothing. Wing Ting couldn't work until she got new clothes, and she couldn't perform until she worked. This was not looking good. "I'm going to get wet," Wing Ting said, staring at the puddle. "And this whole scenario is getting more and more whirlpool-of-death-y."

Hadrian had begun the day being fairly social with a few of his superiors, but now simply sat on the ground behind one of the tents, brooding.

Well, no. He wasn't brooding, exactly.

He was thinking.

His thought process was rather abruptly interrupted by a feminine voice and, curiosity piqued, he craned his neck around the corner of the tent to get a better look.

Wing Ting glanced around quickly, and then skipped into the grass, whistling to herself. She stuck a crisp white toe in the mud and pulled at the turf. "Muddy~" Wing Ting sang out, dragging her foot in the mud. "I gots muddy feet!" It probably wasn't the best thing to do with white shoes on, but she nevertheless soon had drawn a smiley face, a bunch of grapes, and what looked like a cow wearing a wig but was really supposed to be a hippo.

Wing Ting backed up a few steps and admired her work, giggling a bit. The hippo looked like he had gas. "I'll need new shoes cause I'm muddy!" She giggled again and danced a bit. Maybe it wasn't so bad that she didn't have to work.

Hadrian couldn't help but smile slightly to himself, watching the girl fool around in the mud. He shook his head at her and then spoke:

"Hey."

Hadrian was a man of few words.

Wing Ting may have levitated on the spot. "Eep!" She squeaked, whirling around to face the man. He was sitting, but he was still taller than her. She couldn't see him very well, because it was kind of dark, but she spoke to him anyway. "Hey mister! My name's Wing Ting! What's your name? D'you want your clothes? Who are you?" Wing Ting was a curious thing by nature, but she remained a good three yards away from the man. After all, he could be a scary monster come to gobble her up! Roar! Scary!

"Want my...?" Hadrian laughed slightly, "The name's Hadrian. I just got here...gotta do odd jobs and whatnot until I'm 'ready to perform'." He added air quotes to accentuate this damning fact.

"How about you?"

He had no passed over Wing Ting's unfortunate height, and it didn't seem that she could be all that helpful around the circus.. Of course, she could just be one of those guys giving out fliers...but even then...

Wing Ting scooted a bit closer to him, squinting as she tried to get a good look at his face. She still couldn't see it all the way, so she scooted a bit more to the side and peered at him again. "I'm serious. I need new clothes. She said when he laughed at her. It wasn't nice to laugh at people, especially when you were five bazillion times taller than them. She gestured down to her dress and shoes. "I'm not allowed to work until I get new clothes. See?" Wing Ting looked at him consideringly, her head cocked to one side. "You aren't doing odd jobs now. She protested when he told her what he was doing. And then she added, out of sheer curiosity: "What are you doing now?"

"I'm sitting," Hadrian said simply, "Just...sitting." He arched an eyebrow at Wing Ting, not quite sure what to make of her.

"I have some extra shirts, if you really want to get to work that desperately. I mean, they'd be huge, but..." He trailed off.

No matter how strange or unfamiliar the person, it was always good to offer your personal effects up to him. It was a test of trust or something. He didn't quite know.

Wing Ting blinked. "I know you're sitting. You're not doing anything else? Like, thinking of something or...I dunno...something?" Like Hadrian, Wing Ting didn't know how to take this strange, peculiarly tall man. He was too quiet and reserved, and he just sat. "I could make a dress?" It was one of those statements that had a curl on the end, like a question, because Wing Ting didn't know if Hadrian would approve of her cutting up his shirts to make dresses. "I mean, I've been pretty useless all day. And then the boss-lady threw me out because I kept worrying about my clothes and dropping expensive stuff." She dug her foot in the mud again.

"Ah...sure. Feel free," Hadrian nodded to the girl and then stood, pushing his sunglasses up with a finger, "D'you need it now, or...?"

He had absolutely no idea why he was giving in to Wing Ting so very easily. Maybe because she was little and pitiful. Maybe because she was female. Who the hell knew?

Wing Ting scuffed her shoe in the dirt yet again. "Uhm...no. It's smelly in there, and I don't want to go back in."

And then, there was silence.

Silence of the awkward sort.

Wing Ting shifted her weight back and forth nervously, before suddenly bolting for the man and sitting - Plop! - down next to him. "Hi!" She laughed, happily noting that the ground was dry here. Wing Ting swung her feet around a bit, humming to herself, and waiting for Hadrian to speak. She would wait for a few minutes, and if he said nothing, she'd start chattering again. Alas, it was his fate to be forced to listen to this little Asian girl whether he wanted to or not.

Hadrian sat down again with a resounding thud. He raised a knee and hugged it, peering down at Wing Ting. He found that he had absolutely nothing to say and so returned to his previously derailed train of thought.

Silence again.

So Wing Ting poked him. "Hey. Are you in the Circus for performing?" He had said that he was, but Wing Ting might have misheard him. She peered up at him. He was tall. "D'you have a talent? D'you tame lions? I've always wanted to see a lion tamer, because they're really cool! They take the whip and go HOO-HAH and the lions go WAAAH NO WHIP." She grinned up at him. "It's fun." She said simply, tilting her head back and forth and whistling again. It wasn't a particular tune she was whistling, but more of a wandering, piercing noise that had no purpose. It was rather annoying, actually.

Oh, god...the NOISE!

"NnnnnnNNNGH--YES!" Hadrian voiced in a frustrated crescendo, "Yes. Yes, I came to perform. No, no lions."

Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

Wing Ting smiled at him brightly and continued speaking, though she had forgotten what she was speaking about and was really only speaking to be friendly. "Oh, no lions? Maybe you should try lions. Lions are cute, sort of like big, man-eating kitties. Where I came from, if you really wanted a lion, you could get one, except, they were made from scratch and very expensive." She jabbered. Wing Ting was completely gone now, lost in words and babblage. "One day, I thought maybe I'd like to have a lion, but I never had enough money and I always spent it on candy and stuff and so I never got one. I'm not really sorry, though, because lions can be a lot of work, and I'm not sure I can handle the responsibility, but it would have been nice to have one, don't you think? Why are you wearing sunglasses?" She asked, coming back to reality in a bang-up crash. "It's not bright out."

Hadrian was crying a little inside.

He only looked back to the rambling girl when he realized that he had been asked a question.

"My eyes are very sensitive to light," he shrugged and turned away once more.

Wing Ting blinked once or twice when Hadrian answered her, as her tangent about lions was suddenly cut off. But then, she had asked him a question. She blinked again, and then uttered the one word that Hadrian would probably grow to loathe. "Why?" She waited for his response, her feet swinging back and forth. She even whistled a bit. However, Wing Ting resisted the urge to say, "Why why why why why?" as the tone in Hadrian's voice had been less than patient.

"I'm albinoid," he stated simply, "See?" He held his arms out and rotated them, showing off his white, near-translucent skin.

Wing Ting blinked again. "You're a whatsit? You do what? Is this something naughty?" She asked, scooting away nervously. "D'you have like, scary stuff you're going to throw at me and drag me off and eat me or something?" Wing Ting was near panic now, waving her hands around. She babbled nonsensically until Hadrian showed her his arms. Wing Ting's eyes widened in understanding. "Oooh. You're glowy? Glowy man? Glow in the dark? Like a glow stick?" She asked, prodding his arms all over.

"No," Hadrian said and pulled Wing Ting's hands off of him, "It means I have no pigm--colour. The stuff that makes your eyes and hair dark. I don't have any."

Wing Ting peered up at him curiously. "Glowy?" She asked stubbornly, giving the albino boy another poke for good measure. Wing Ting frowned a bit when Hadrian continued speaking. He said he was a pig? A pig? Piggy piggy? Oink oink? "You're a piggy?" Wing Ting blinked and stood up and ran back into the muddy turf. "You don't look like a piggy..." And then she began drawing the mud again with her little white shoe, all over the place, until she had drawn a rather fat pig with the name HADREEAN scratched in the dirt above it.

"I don't glow. I am not a piggy. I am not even a glowy piggy," Hadrian couldn't help but smile a bit, "I just don't have any co--" He noticed the pig with his name above it.

"...lour." He reached down and scrawled 'Hadrian' below the pig with his finger.

Wing Ting frowned, one toe still pushed in the mud. She cocked her head to one side and sat down, saying, "You don't have any co -- OH MY GOD!" And then she shot up, whacking at her dress with both hands. "My dress is dirty! It's dirty! What'm I gonna do?" And then she smacked herself in the face, several times, muttering darkly to herself. "...ow."

She sat down again.

AND UP!

Wing Ting whacked dismally at her dress, though by this time her hands were muddy, too. She sort of sighed a bit, and then, begrudgingly, walked back to where Hadrian was sitting. She hit the ground hard, sighed, and curled up into a little ball. "Glowy piggy," she said, half-heartedly.

Awww...

"Nothing says you can't wash 'em again," Hadrian tried to be comforting, but he sounded more sarcastic than anything, "And my shirt's still up for grabs."

Wing Ting glared up at the man, angry and hurt that he could be sarcastic and cruel about her poor dress. And he was a glowy piggy! How could he talk!? If some one was a glowing farm animal, they shouldn't make fun of other people! Especially people whose nice white dresses were completely ruined. Wing Ting was glad she was laying down. If they had been standing, she wouldn't have been able to kick anything but his toes, maybe. As it was, she brought her foot back and smacked the albino right in the thigh. She gave him another glare, but then ruined it by sniffing feebly afterwards. "Poo...glowy pig." She muttered, picking at her dress idly.

Wait, what did he say?

His shirt?

Oh dear.

"Oops," She said, looking dismayed. "Uh-oh."

Hadrian was hurt neither mentally nor physically by the kick, but he sure as hell was irritated.

"Have fun playing in the mud," he said tersely and stood, brushing himself off and beginning to walk away with his hands shoved in his pockets.

He'd have to find a new hiding place, then.

Wing Ting was up in a flash. "No! Hadriaaan! Wait for me!" She cried, trying to run after him. She slipped a bit, though, and got her front all muddy. Wing Ting got up again and chased after him. His legs were much longer than hers, and she had to sprint on her little stick legs to keep up. "Hadriaaaan! Please wait!" Squish squish squish went the mud! Wing Ting was gaining ground now, and when she thought she could, Wing Ting jumped up and grabbed hold of one of Hadrian's legs, wrapping her arms and legs around it and clutching it fiercely. Granted, the man could probably still walk, as Wing Ting weighed very little, but he would be severely slowed.

Hadrian had been going against his better judgment and completely ignoring the girl as she ran, but the tackle was kind of hard to dismiss. He stopped abruptly, face twisted into a sneer, and looked down to Wing Ting.

He grabbed the poor girl by the dress and yanked her from his leg, lifting her so his eyes could meet hers.

"You will never touch me," he growled, "Got it?"

Wing Ting was aware of the man stopping, and then of nearly being gagged as he yanked her up. But then these two thoughts were shoved aside as black fear welled up inside her. She was in the air. Her feet were not touching the ground. She was up. Wing Ting started to say something, but all that came out was a sad sort-of gurgle. She tried again, but nothing happened. Wing Ting swallowed then, trying not to think of the fact that her feet were five feet off the ground and said in a teeny voice, "Please put me down. Please...put me...down please. Please. Down. Please. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she was shaking, and that she really, really, really needed to pee. But she figured it wouldn't be a good idea to pee on someone who was holding her aloft at two times her own height.

Hadrian's face contorted further but, with a great display of self-control and a trembling hand, he set Wing Ting carefully on the ground...and proceeded to punch a nearby tree and continue on his way.

Wing Ting very barely overcame the urge to kiss the ground. Very barely. As it was, she stayed very small and didn't move until Hadrian got well away. Very well away. At least out of hearing distance, maybe even out of sight. She wasn't really paying attention. Then she apologized. Granted, she probably should have apologized before the whole being-held-up-by-her-dress-in-the-air incident, but Wing Ting didn't think of that. "Sorry, Hadrian." And then Wing Ting sighed and rolled around in the mud some more. If she wasn't getting new working clothes, she might as well ruin the ones she had so she wouldn't feel guilty about ruining them by working tomorrow.

Hadrian stopped walking (or storming, as it were) a good while away and threw himself back against a tree, sliding to the ground. He picked a few bits of bark from his fist and beat his head against the tree trunk.

Maybe joining the circus wasn't such a great idea.

Of Strange Accents and Denial

Hadrian was very, very bored. He had been successful in avoiding Wing Ting, but that meant he couldn't go to the trailer.

Meaning he couldn't see anyone else.

He simply leaned back against a tree, hands shoved in his pockets, staring off into nothingness.

His second day at Cirque turned out to be a wonderfully warm and sunny one. He's parted ways with Ankita that morning, claiming the chaise lounge for his sleeping space later. She's laughed at him at the time, but he was sure she wouldn't mind when he showed up later that night to stay again.

Charlot was wandering around again, taking a smoke break after the moving work he'd done this morning. It wasn't that bad, as he'd found. They were in the middle of the week- most of the hard work was done at the beginning and end of a stay at any one place. Apparently he and the others were getting off easy.

On the flip side of that, he made it a personal mission to hone his talent with his whip and start working more with the blades Phillipe was remaking for him. It wouldn't do for him to get a spot in the show and not know what the hell he was doing with himself.

He tugged a cigarette free from it's pack tucking it betwen his lips as he searched for a lighter. For some reason, it wasn't where he'd left it. He wondered if Sarava had stolen it. He paused, checking his back pockets before giving up.

"Damn, 'ere oi am wantin' a smoke and not a damn light." Green eyes glancing around, spotting Hardian sitting beside the tree. Maybe that fellow had one. He stepped over toward him, cigarette still in his mouth.

"Oi, y'got a light mate?"

Hadrian was damn near ready to tear this disembodied voice's head off. He looked up, prepared to tell someone off an--well, hellooo there...

It took a moment for his brain to register that he had, in fact, been asked for something.

"Nnh. Yeah," he nodded and stood, fishing a lighter out of his pocket and holding it out. Something in his chest twisted. He decided to ignore it.

Charlot flashed him a smile, accepting the lighter. "Ah, thanks-" He studied it for a moment, figuring out how to use it before lighting the tip of his cig. He offered it back with a nod.

"M'name is Charlot M'Queen. You with th'circus too?"

Hadrian accepted the lighter and replaced it. He felt his face grow hot as he spoke.

"Yeah," he nodded, not quite realizing that he should probably introduce himself also, "Nice to meet you."

"Mm, pleasha's all mine." He took a step to the right, coming so he stood beside Hadrian instead of somewhat infront of him. Charlot quietly smoked for a few minutes, before turning to glance at his companion again. He obviously wasn't going to offer his name...

"Y'get much work done under that fancy tree of yers?" He smirked, flicking ashes aside and watching them float to the ground. "Perhaps y'on break like me, eh? Not a lot of work t'be done 'round 'ere. I figure I'should start practicing."

He inclined his head toward him, wondering if Hadrian would offer a name or perhaps a bit of a chat... or if he was just SHY or somethin'.

Hadrian found himself watching Charlot intently, which he found, in all honesty, rather creepy. When the man looked back, however, his eyes stealthily flickered away, then back.

"Yeah. Break," he nodded, "I can't really prac--" The words caught in his throat and he swallowed hard.

"..tice." It hit him then what Charlot was looking for.

"The name's Hadrian, by the by."

"Ah, 'Adrian-" He nodded, offering his free hand out to him. His father always used to say, 'you can measure a man, by the shake of his hand'. It just got habit to do so after being boxed in the ears for forgetting so many times.

"So, if y'cant practice.. what the 'ell you do?" He couldn't imagine what sort of act you could do with no practice time. Maybe he was in the side show.

Charlot tilted his head, looking Hadrian over. Was he missing some weird tail or something? Only thing he could see right off was the skin and eyes. Not much, but a start.

"Oi mean no offense, I'm jus a wee bit curious."

Hadrian lived by nearly the same philosophy as Charlot's father, although his was more along the lines of 'perfect your handshake or everyone'll think you're a twink'. And he had.

He shook Charlot's hand and cleared his throat.

"I hold my breath," he attempted to explain and shrugged, "Twenty minutes. Give me some prosthetics and you've got yourself a damn convincing fish-boy."

"Fish-boy?" Charlot's eyebrows rose. "Twenty minutes is a'damn long time. Oi've seen a mermaid before, last circus I was at. It wasn't very impressive.. more like a fish tail sewn onto a couple other animals t'make it look odd."

He reached into his pocket, offering the pack to Hadrian. He'd had a lighter, he could only assume he smoked. "Care for a'smoke?"

"Yeah, well. An albino with lungs the size of infants isn't exactly all that impressive either." Hadrian huffed and eyed the pack for a moment.

Well, no. It would be a rather bad thing to break his habit of a pack a year. No matter how strong the lungs, tar kicked the s**t out of them.

But he couldn't help himself.

"Thanks," he nodded and took a cigarette, sticking it between his lips and offering the pack back to Charlot. With his other hand, he reached for the lighter, lit up, and took an absurdly long drag.

After an oddly long period, he exhaled.

"What do you do, exactly?"

Admirable drag, that. He raised an eyebrow, wondering if he'd enhaled the smoke in it's entirety before turning back to discard the ashes that had gathered at the tip of his own cigarette.

"Oh well, right now I move a bit o'boxes 'ere and there. Oi been 'elpin at th'forge and doin' a bit o'duties with some of th'performers that need me brute strengf." He shrugged. "In th'future oi 'ope to 'ave a show doin' whips and knife throwin'." He set the cigarette in his mouth, gripping it with his teeth as he flicked out to long knives and juggled them a little. He wasn't as good as he could be- one of his practice points for sure. He tucked them away again.

"Needs practice, yeah?"

Hadrian watched with absolute fascination. Huh...not only were the juggled objects shiny and pointy...they weren't removing any digits!

He arched a brow and stayed silent for a moment.

"Pretty impressive if you ask me, but I'm no expert."

"Thanks, nothin' like a bit o'ego boost." He smiled again, looking back at Hadrian. "Oi still need t'start working with more blades, juggling two might look impressive.. but it's real easy."

He glanced toward the tree, then back at Hadrian. "Mind if'oi 'ave a seat under your fancy tree for a bit?"

"For you," Hadrian snorted and smiled slightly. He than made a rather exuberant sweeping movement with his arm and bowed slightly.

"Not at all. Please, sit down." He laughed a bit at himself.

Charlot smirked, giving him a nod. He made his way over to the tree and hunkered down, leaning his back against the trunk as he'd seen Hadrian so comfortably doing.

"So, y'got a mentor yet?" He pulled his knees up so he could rest his arms across them, looking back toward Hadrian curiously.

Hadrian joined Charlot, placing himself against the side to his left.

"Not that I know of," he shrugged, "I haven't had a good couple'a days."

"Oh?" He glanced sidelong as his companion took a seat to his left. "What's th'trouble. Maybe Oi can 'elp?"

Not that his social skills were on par or anything.. but he knew a few people that seemed nice. He could always pass the word that someone was having a little bit of trouble.

"I doubt it," Hadrian snorted, "I think I'm just an...abrasive personality. Let's see...a 3-foot-tall girl kicked me, a not-monkey whacked me with a stick and proceeded pee on me, and I'm pretty sure I want to kill everyone." He looked to Charlot.

"Don't think you can help that, eh?"

"Oi know th'feeling," Charlot murmured, still smiling at him. "Can't let it getcha down, tho-"

He shrugged his shoulders, taking a slow drag of the remaining cigarette before dropping the filter and grinding it out.

"Oi'can give it a try. Me mentor is Miz Dolly. If y'don't get along w'women or animals.. y'might try th'Ringmaster. Don't know f'sure if he mentors, though. As fer abrasive per'snalities-" He turned back to Hadrian. "Everyone's got em t'different degrees."

"I guess not," Hadrian shrugged and tossing his long-obliterated cigarette filter to the ground and crushing it under his heel, "Hey, there's hope. I haven't gotten any homicidal urges at you yet." He snickered.

"Granted, that may be partially due to the fact that you carry knives around with you."

"Oh? ..and 'ere oi thought me raw animal magnitism was working it's magic again... ah well. I'll settle f'uninspiring weapon-toting fear. Maybe next time, eh?" He winked, snickering as he picked a blade of grass idly to tear it apart and scatter it.

"So, all this time y'just been meetin' people around the circus? Who've y'met?"

Yeah. Pretty much.

Hadrian felt heat rise to his face again, cursed it silently, and forced it back down.

"Ah...Wing Ting and...that lady with the not-monkey. Come to think of it, I don't know if I know her name or not..." His brow furrowed in thought.

No, he didn't think he did. Well, Hell, no wonder he was making such a bad impression.

"Lady w'a monkey?" Charlot thought about this for a few moments. "Oh, y'mean Miz Ankita. Was sh'blind? If not, then y'already met Dolly. She 'ad a monkey. Miz Ankita 'as a ..." He paused, thinking about it. "...large squirrel."

"Nonono...it's not a monkey. It pissed on me when I called it a monkey," he nodded, "Must'a been Ankita. I don't think it's a squirrel either..."

He suddenly had a fleeting flashback to 5th grade science. All the kids had hugeass sheets of paper and all were drawing some kind of random jungle creature. And then, in the corner...

"What's that? It's looks like a monkey or a squirrel or sum'm."
"Issan Aye Aye!"

"Well, I'll be damned..."

Charlot raised an eyebrow. "Hmm.. y'figure somethin' out?"

He didn't think Sarava was any of those either... but he didn't know anything else she could be. She wasn't like any dog or cat he'd ever encountered. He figured she was something exotic, but couldn't place it.

"I think so," Hadrian said and turned to Charlot again, "Not quite sure." He sighed and looked toward the horizon, gauging roughly how much time had passed.

"I think I'd better be getting back to work."

"Mm, good idea." Charlot pushed himself to his feet, dusting off stray pieces of lingering grass. He readjusted his hat, offering his hand out to help Hadrian up. "Boxes t'move an places t'look busy, eh?"

"Precisely," Hadrian snickered and took Charlot's hand, pulling himself to his feet.

"I'll...see you again, I hope. Was a pleasure."

"Likewise, 'Adrian. See y'around." He tugged the front of his hat, then turned to head back through the circus grounds.

Not bad. He was interested in seeing his performance when the shows started up.

Hadrian looked, for all intensive purposes, like he was dead. He lay on the ground beneath the surface of the lake (or maybe it was a pond) that he had happened upon earlier, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were closed and his ankles bound, and he was not breathing. He'd been like this for a good ten minutes.

He was practicing.

Lucrezia had decided that, for all intensive purposes, she hated Gaian food. Every time she went to the meal cart, they just handed her another carton of sticky-sweet carbonated chemicals until about noon, when they'd given her a sandwich. She'd have to ask Ankita where she got the melon she used to train her Aye-Aye.

She had retreated with her lunch to the grassy hill overlooking the lake not far off from the fairgrounds.

She'd finally gotten some solid food. Nothing was going to mess her meal up this time.

...sixteen one-hundred, seventeen one-hundred, eighteen one-hundred--

Hadrian's concentration was abruptly broken as a tiny fish attempted to swim up his nasal passage. He inhaled a bit of water and sat up, head emerging from the water and going into a near-hysterical coughing fit, frightening the fish away. He growled a bit to himself and ducked beneath the water again, beginning to untie his ankles.

Frickin' fish...

The sandwhich went flying.

Of course, it wasn't every day that a very, very pale young man popped out of a lake you thought was empty.

And then went back under.

Lucrezia glanced over at the ruined sandwhich lying scattered across the hillside, swore a very audible "Merde," and rushed down to the edge of the lake. She stared at the water where he had gone under, wondering if he would resurface.

Was he another Cirqueling?

Hadrian's arm surfaced first, a length of thick rope clutched in his fist. Then came his head, facing down...and then the rest of him.

When he saw the young woman, he gave a start.

Oh, Christ, he was still half-naked.

"Sorry," he said, scrabbling for his shirt on the bank, "Didn't see you there."

"Likewise," Lucrezia replied, still somewhat bitter about the sandwhich. "You startled me pretty bad."

She reached for the shirt and handed it to him. "Here."

There was an akward pause.

"What were you doing?"

Underwater with a length of rope, she added silently.

"Uh...thanks," Hadrian nodded appreciatively and shoved his shirt over his head, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to his damp frame, "...huh?"

It took a moment for the question to fully register.

Committing suicide. What do youthink?!

"Practicing," he nodded, as if that explain anything.

Her hunch had been right - he was another cirqueling. "Holding your breath?" Lucrezia asked, showing genuine interest. "So, you do underwater stuff? Escape artistry? Or...?"

She trailed off. It was likely something somewhat different.

Hopefully, that was a good conversation starter. In her experience, circus people loved to talk about themselves.

"Ah...no. I'm just one of the freaks," Hadrian said, rather uncomfortable with talking about himself, "How about yourself?"

"Rigging crew at the moment," Lucrezia replied, shrugging. "But I'm trained in trapeze and aerial silks."

Surely just being an albino wasn't enough to count as a freak. True, it was rare and all, but if you didn't look too hard he looked rather normal. Just extremely pale.

"So, where does the breath holding practice come in?" she asked curiously.

"Hm," Hadrian retorted and nodded, "I'm the local fishboy. Longer time under the water makes for a better suspension of disbelief."

He looked down at himself and cursed silently. His white t-shirt had gone see-through. God damn it.

Lucrezia followed his gaze and blushed slightly.

"Should we head back to the fairgrounds?" she asked, figuring he'd probably want to find some dry clothes.

"Oh, and I'm Lucrezia, by the way," she added, offering him a wrapped hand to shake. "Who're you?"

"Probably," Hadrian huffed and took Lucrezia's hand after drying his on a dry bit of shirt, "Hadrian." Without another word, he started off for the grounds.

Lucrezia shrugged and followed in similar silence.

Well, she supposed she deserved that. After all, she must have embarrassed him a fair bit.

Hadrian continued in silence until he spotted the upturned sandwich. He paused then and pointed at it.

"That my fault?" To him, it just seemed that it would be.

Lucrezia shrugged. "Indirectly," she answered. "I've kind of been a bundle of nerves today. Every time I try to eat something, someone comes along and throws something at me."

She shrugged again.

"Don't feel bad about it. It's my own fault."

Hadrian stared at the food for only a second or two more before continuing on his way back to the grounds. He at first made no move to say anything, but finally spoke.

"I'll get you another one."

A Peace Offering

Hadrian stood a good few yards from where he'd first met that woman and her infernal not-monkey, seriously debating on whether or not to go through with his mediocre scheme. Something small and orange was clasped in his hand, and he rolled it idly.

Ankita was out on a walk, carrying Sarava across her shoulders so that it'd be easy to vocalize whether or not there was a pole before her. Sarava saw the albino toilet ahead and contemplated for a long moment whether or not she needed a moment of relief. Unfortunatly, no, she had gone not a moment earlier, and regretted it.

Hadrian spun on his heel, ready to head back, when he saw Ankita with Sarava on her shoulders. Oh, Christ. Here it went.

"Hey, Ankita..." he greeted her, "Sorry to interrupt you." He approached her carefully, not wanting to startle the poor woman and wondering if she could recognize voices.

Ankita winced a bit and stopped suddenly. She thought for a moment, going through her vocal dictionary. Thinking of all distinguishing factors to zone it down to one, she remember the voice vaguely, but didn't quite know the name to attach to it.

"Uhm...Hi...?" She said nervously. She wasn't sure if this was going to end well, since their last meeting didn't go so sweetly.

Sarava, on the other hand, was on guard, You've got quite the pair of not-balls to come up and speak to us.

"We...weren't ever properly introduced," he spoke to Ankita, although his eyes were trained on Sarava, "The name's Hadrian..and I've come bearing a peace offering." He opened and raised his hand to display an orange to the fuzzy hellion.

"For your aye-aye."

Sarava blinked in confusion. I pissed on you, and you give me gifts. This didn't quite add up, but her long fingers reached out to the fruit, quickly grabbing it in, sniffing it, and then began consuming it. Ripping apart the orange rind with her teeth to get at the juicy center.

Ankita nodded. "That's awfully sweet of you." She said giving a small smile. She was glad that Sarava hadn't completely scared him off.

Hadrian bowed. Yes, to the Aye-aye. He wasn't sure just how intelligent the damn thing was.

"Well, I'd rather not start off with any enemies," he nodded, "Especially 'cos I got nothin' against you."

Ankita's smile grew larger.

Sarava still was confused and keeping her eye on the boy. Don't think you've won me over just yet.

As a sign of official peace, Ankita held out her hand to him to shake.

"I really hope we can just start over."

Hadrian shook Ankita's hand and half-smiled nervously.

"Like I said, I ain't got nothin' against you," he snorted slightly, "A new start would be nice, yeah."

Ankita giggled quietly.

"I swear I'll try to keep Sarava in check."

Sarava's ears perked up, Emphasis on try.

"I hope what happened last time hasn't ruined your stay so far..?"

"I've been called a glowing pig, kicked, whacked, and peed on," Hadrian laughed slightly, "I don't think any singular event has ruined this place for me."

Sarava had simply been the last straw was all.

Ankita laughed nervously, and began to feel a bit bad for adding to whatever sour experience he had already been having.

"Well... I really hope things get better for you."

"Ah...thank you," Hadrian nodded, not quite knowing what to say, "I'll...be going now. Have a...nice day." He cringed and stalked off then, keeping half an eye on Sarava.

Well, it was a step up, at least.

Ankita waved.

"I really hope to be seeing you soon." Her smile grew larger. "Sarava, too!" She said, laughing.

I have my eye on you. Sarava stared off at him, still eating at the tasty orange, making sure he didn't have something up his sleeves.

Meet-a-Grete

"Dammit!" Grete mummbled under her breath. She could just not seem to move this crate by herself. Why did she even have to have it in her trailer, anyway? Her room wasn't storage, it was where she slept!

But, no, Aiden just had to store the extra signs and banners and whatnot in a huge crate, to be stored in Grete's room. And she couldn't even get it in her room. The fact that she was in a corset-dress didn't help much, either. She glanced up, her smoky eyes flitting around. She saw a man walk by, and she began to shout.

"Hello! Hi, um, could you help me? It would be much appre-," she sighed. He'd walked off already. There was no way in hell that she'd be able to get it in without the help of another person. Then, someone else walked by.

"Hi! You see, I'm having trouble moving this box, and I was wondering," This man ignored her, and continued walking, while Grete started cursing him under her breath, "If you could stop thinking that you're better than everyone and give a damn about someone else for a change!" She continued grumbling, and then put a hand in her hair, trying to think of other ways to move the stupid thing.

Hadrian had seen the first man go by and had paid no attention. It was his break, after all. He'd just finished unpacking random crap and moving boxes to seemingly random locations. After the second man passed, however, he figured that it would probably be better for his conscience if he just went and help the poor girl...so that's precisely what he did.

The albinoid man strode quickly to the girl's side, hefted the box from the ground, and placed it on his broad shoulders.

Kinda hurt, but he was used to it.

"Where does it need to go?"

Grete gasped as the man suddenly showed up and grabbed the box. She hadn't even asked him, and he went ahead anyway. She nodded slightly, then responded.

"Uhm, it needs to go in my trailer. I'll show you where," quickly, she opened the door and held it open. Realizing that it had no place to go, she quickly moved items and blankets up off the floor, making sure that there was a spot for it. She threw all of the empty bottles of who-knows-what and trash to another area of her slightly untidy room, and she moved a small bottle of perfume, and another of brandy, delicately to a dresser.

"Sorry about that. It can go here," she told him as she double-checked to make sure that there was room. Then she pushed brown hair out of her face and looked at the man, trying to recall if she'd met him before. "Thanks a lot. I'm Grete, by the way."

Hadrian followed the girl into her trailer, feeling rather odd in doing as such. He nodded and placed the box where he was instructed before standing once more and taking a short look about the trailer.

"Hadrian," he said to Grete, not caring a whole lot. He then began out of the trailer, feeling rather uncomfortable.

Grete waited for a second, and watched as Hadrian walked out of the trailer. Quickly realizing how awkward one could seem in such a place, she took a few short, quick steps out, and closed the door behind her.

"Sorry," she said, a bit quietly, "About that. Again. Are you new here?" Afraid that he might not be interested in conversation, she let her words continue to fall silently, and trailing off a bit at the end. Feeling that she should be more enthusiastic and welcoming, she added, a bit louder this time, "Would you like something to eat or drink? Or something like that..."

Hadrian barely let her finish her sentence.

"Yeah, I'm one of the new guys," he nodded, although he didn't appear to be paying any attention to Grete. His eyes wandered the horizon off to the side. He then heaved a sigh and looked down to her.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Oh. Okay." Grete's gaze slowly fell to one of the other trailers. People were talking, laughing. She rolled her eyes and walked over to a table that she had set outside a couple days earlier. On it set a slighlty dirty glass filled with an amber liquid, and she took a swig of it. Then, she sat down and traced around the rim of her glass with her finger.

"So. I take it you don't like people, huh?" Grete asked, her voice filled with something that was difficult to place, "It's hard to get along with people. For me, at least. Especially in a place like this. You just don't know when someone's going to leave. But, what do I know?" She cleared her throat, and glanced back at Hadrian. Then she looked down and had another sip of her drink.

Hadrian arched a brow and turned slowly to face Grete.

"I've never liked people much," he said and shrugged, "Never had enough of a social life to care either. Being here's a bit...ah...overwhelming." He then invited himself over and loomed over the other side of the table.

Grete tilted her head to the side, and pointed slightly to the left of Hadrian.

"There's a chair there, if you'd like one. I'd hate to make you stand," She took another sip and nodded as she thought of what he had said.

"It is overwhelming here. There's a bunch of people that I haven't met, and most of them, I'm not even sure if I'd like to meet them. On top of that, I'm a bit of a recluse. I'm hard to get to know, and I don't really let people know me for a while. You know?"

"Quite well, actually," Hadrian nodded as he took a seat.

"I think I've met...pretty much everyone...save the Ringmaster and a couple of guys I've randomly seen...wandering." He eyed Grete's drink.

"Alcoholic? ...the, ah...drink. Not you."

Grete half-smiled as he asked about her drink.

"Sure is. You want some? I can go get another glass," she offered, making sure that she didn't seem too pushy.

"Hah. The ringmaster. Now he's a trip. Aiden's his name. I'm not quite sure what to make of him. But everyone else," she sighed, then continued, "I'm not exactly sure what to think about anyone, to be perfectly honest. I'm surprised that I'm being so truthful to you, actually. No offence, or anything."

"No, thanks. I try to not drink. Was just curious," he snickered slightly to himself, "I just have that...ah...flair to bring out the best in people."

He snorted.

"I think they call it 'relentless assertion'." He crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, marginally afraid that he may break the chair.

Grete laughed and then shrugged her shoulders.

"Suit yourself," Then she laughed again, "'Relentless assertion', huh? So, I assume that everyone goes about telling youy exactly what's on your mind, then?" By the half-smile and coy look in her eyes, it was notable that she was being obnoxious, but she still desired an answer.

She propped her legs up on the end of the table, and stared up at the sky. It was beautiful. As always.
"If I'm boring you, or you could care less, just tell me," she said, a bit slowly, as if she were weighing every word, "But have you ever felt like you should be somewhere else? Or even be someone else?"

"Nah, they're pretty much all obnoxious," Hadrian smirked and arched a brow at Grete, "Huh?" It took him a moment to register the question.

" 'Felt', no. 'Wished', yes. Desperately. Why do you ask?"

"Well...I'm not sure. I just feel like sometimes, I'm in the wrong place. Wanted to make sure if someone else felt like this, or if I was just crazy," Grete picked up her glass again, and looked inside, to find that it was completely empty. She frowed slightly, and then put it back on the table.

"I'm glad that it's gone," she mummbled slightly, "I should quit, I'm sure. Anyways, back to why I said that. Well, I just, well, when I was a little girl, I always had that perfect little girl dream. Where you grow up, and find some guy that loves you, and then that's the end. You're complete, and you're happy. And now, look at me," she laughed, a bit regretfully, "I'm working in a circus. What kind of crazy is that? So, what about you?" She tilted her head a bit to the side, to see Hadrian.

"Where did you think you'd wind up? If you don't mind me asking, I mean."

"Homeless and alone," Hadrian laughed a bit cynically, "One for two ain't bad." He sighed and crossed his arms on the table. One hand moved absentmindedly to the scar below his ribcage, and then fluttered back to the table.

Grete smiled slightly at his remark. Being alone was a bit of a touchy subject for her, and she decided not to go too in depth about that.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a bit suddenly. She raised an eyebrow, and then continued speaking, "You looked a bit troubled there for a second."

"Hn?" Hadrian arched a brow at Grete before realizing what she was referring to, "Ah, no. No, I'm alright. Just...neh." He realized he was rambling and stopped himself before he went too far.

"Mmhm. All right, I won't ask you about it anymore," Grete said, with a smirk on her face, "I'll just have to make up why you're bothered, now. I'll say that you were once a pirate, or that you have some disease or something."

"More like a drunk with bad luck," Hadrian said, suddenly sobered. He stood then and heaved a sigh.

"I should probably be going. Was a pleasure." He pushed his sunglasses further up his nose and started away, not wanting Grete to see any more than she already had.

The girl had a knack for noticing emotions. Totally not a good thing.

"Oh. Uhm, Okay," Grete said, completely thrown.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, as well. I hope we can do this again, sometime," She bit her lip in stress, afraid that she had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry," she added, softly.

Let the Loathing Begin

Lucrezia slipped carefully out of the big tent. It was the end of the second of her evening practices on the trapeze, and she was hungry. And somewhat sweaty and dishevelled. And probably not looking her best.

However, she was ever greatful to Aiden for allowing her to use the full trapeze to practice. Sure, the practice riggings and mats were fine, but they didn't have a large enough swing radius. The big tent was much better for her needs.

She sighed and began her walk down the midway, disdainfully breathing the smoggy, cold night air of Gaia.

The sooner they left this world, the better, she decided.

One need not say that Hadrian was wandering, for that and practicing was all he seemed to do. And so he was wandering, not looking for any specific place or person or object.

And then he saw Lucrezia, far off in the distance. Sure, he was legally blind, but that was just cause to learn to read body language and memorize people's shapes.

He hurried his pace to see if she was in the mood for any kind of companionship...or not. Either way, he was bored, and human contact was welcome.

Even in the fading twilight, Lucrezia was able to recognize her... well, favorite was the wrong word... albino approaching. Better judgement said the proper thing to do was say hello. And so far this listening to better judgement thing had worked out pretty well.

"Bonsoir, Hadrian," she acknowledged as he came within conversational distance.

Who knew? Maybe she'd get a sandwhich out of it.

"...hi," Hadrian said after a moment, thrown by the use of a foreign language, "Sorry for...ah...running off on you last time. Overwhelming embarrassment and whatnot." He caught up and spun, beginning to walk beside Lucrezia. His initial instinct was always to apologize, whether he had actually done something wrong or not.

"It's no problem," replied Lucrezia. To be honest, it was probably the same thing she would have done. She yawned, a little tired from practice.

"Ca va?" she asked, and then realized he probably wouldn't understand that. She made a more concious effort to not slip into french. "I mean, what's up?"

"Nothing," Hadrian shrugged, "Just...ah...wandering. You've been practicing, I assume?" He looked over her disheveled appearance and gave a kind of sympathetic smirk.

Being tired and beaten-down was never a fun thing.

"Yes," answered Lucrezia, smiling and adjusting the wraps on her hands. She'd need to wash them soon before they started to stink. "Trapeze," she explained, pointing to them.

"Aiden lets me use the one in the big tent."

Something about that statement made Hadrian's chest tweak. To him, she almost sounded like a bragging child, and immaturity was one of his greatest targets of loathing.

Regardless to his thoughts, though, he showed no outer signs save a momentary grimace.

"I see," he nodded, "Ah...hungry at all? I know I still owe you food."

Lucrezia noticed the grimace and realized that the last statement, even if it hadn't been intended as such, could be taken as bragging. She decided not to bring it up, though. Instead, she nodded.

"Yes, I'm hungry. The food cart, then? Unless you know of somewhere else. I'm not familiar with this world, so I'm afraid I can't make suggestions."

"Ah, born and raised here," Hadrian snorted, "Trust me. Food's better in the food tent." He continued on, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Where you from, then?"

"That's the problem," Lucrezia laughed. "In respect to here, I don't know. But independently, it's a city called Rome in the Franciscan Empire. It's clean. And much warmer than Gaia."

She kept walking alongside him, shivering slightly in the cool night air.

"Food tent's up here on the left," she added. "That is, unless it's moved since earlier."

"This place may be strange," Hadrian mused, "but I don't think it's quite reached that point." He found himself slowing as he turned the corner, though. Just in case.

"Ah! Here it is," he nodded, and then looked to Lucrezia. Had she shivered?

"You want my coat?" As he had said earlier, Hadrian had grown up in Gaia. He was used to absurdly cold weather in the fall.

Lucrezia smiled and stepped inside the tent. It was warmer in it. Some sort of heating device somewhere, maybe? "Thanks for offering," she answered, "but I think I'll be fine now."

It smelled odd in the food tent tonight.

"I wonder what they're serving?"

Hadrian nodded, and then peered around. This tent had always made him feel kind of sick. He'd always had something about all those...mixed food-smells.

Ych.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he said then and shrugged, "but I'm sure you can find something worthwhile."

Lucrezia stepped cautiously towards the food line and surveyed its contents. Pasta, a weird meat-looking thing, and steamed vegetables. She sighed and took a plate, stepping into line behind a pair of conjoined twins.

"Well, I guess spaghetti and beans are kind of hard to mess up," she muttered to Hadrian as she helped herself to some. "However, the meat looks potentially deadly."

"It may still be alive," Hadrian muttered, "One never knows." He took no food for himself, having eaten rather recently, and fished some money from his pocket to pay for Lucrezia with.

Lucrezia watched him pay and motioned for him to follow her to one of the tables. She was still quietly sniggering at the comment about the meat still being alive, but managed to get herself back under control.

"Thanks for doing this," she informed him as she sat down. "It's really nice of you." Tentatively, she tasted the pasta. It was edible, if not a little overcooked, but she managed not to make a face.

"So, you're from here? What's it really like?"

"No problem," Hadrian said and waved a hand dismissively, sitting across from Lucrezia at her table, "Gaia? Eh."

How would one describe Gaia? It was...it was...Gaia. That was it.

"Picture every science fiction and fantasy novel and movie you've ever read or seen or even happened to glance at. It's all of that with the occasional huge-chested cat-woman. Frankly? It's a bit of a pissant."

Lucrezia looked blankly at him. "Movie?" she asked, not entirely sure she knew what that was. "Science-Fiction?" Neither one was a particularly familiar concept. In fact, she'd never heard that.

"Please elaborate," she stated earnestly. "I have no idea what that's supposed to mean."

"Ah..." Hadrian trailed off into thought for a moment, "It's...dragons and robots and halfbreeds and...just...alright. You've read fairy tales? Fables?"

Lucrezia nodded, laughing. "I have read them, but I think I need to explain. Where I come from, I am quickly realizing, is a little backwards compared to most places. Especially Gaia. We don't have science and technology in Rome like you do here. For something of the last five hundred years prior to my era, no one knew anything. It was like everyone just stopped learning and thinking and caring. The whole age of music and dance and art that I lived in is relatively recent. And we don't have things like movies and science-fiction and robots, whatever those are."

She sighed, frowning up at the ceiling.

"I guess I'm just going to have to learn."

Hadrian arched a brow. He had not asked for a long, elaborate explanation, nor had he wanted one.

Something about this pissed him off.

Now, it wasn't because he hadn't asked or hadn't wanted one, but because Lucrezia, for some reason or another, felt she had to give one.

"Yeah, well, we're all from different places." He leaned back and crossed his arms, suddenly miffed and wanting to get away.

Lucrezia glanced across the table at him, noting his expression and posture.

"You don't really care, do you?" she asked slyly. She didn't sound offended... More amused than anything.

Hadrian simply blinked, face set in stone.

"Not in the slightest." He stood then and bowed slightly, spreading his arms to his sides.

"Enjoy your meal."

With that, he was off, not caring in the god damned slightest that he was being a rude b*****d.

Lucrezia set frowned and pushed her plate away. She watched him go, not sure whether to be offended or not care.

So some people didn't like conversation.

He could enjoy being alone, then. Because she sure wouldn't be trying to talk to him any time soon.

Taking Advantage of Size

All throughout history, mermaids have been seen as beautiful women of the sea with naked chests and whatnot. Mermen didn't have it so easy. They had to be buff and trim.

And that was hard when there was no weight room.

Hadrian was simply on the ground beneath his "fancy tree", doing crunches and counting off in his head. Christ, his abdomen hurt.

Wing Ting was practicing in the field behind the circus, blowing bubbles that were supposed to make sparkles when the popped. So far, she hadn't had much success. Most of her bubbles gave a sort of feeble, dying shudder before disappearing into oblivion. This was not making sparkles. She blew another bubble, sort of jiggling her wand back and forth a bit to see if that had any effect. She watched, holding her breath, as the bubble circled above her head -

And exploded.

Wing Ting yelped.

The ball of red-gold sparklies jumped out of the air and whizzed down the field, heading towards a rather fancy looking tree in the distance.

Wing Ting hoped no one was there to be accidentally singed by it.

Hadrian simply watched the bubble whizz by, grunting in frustration and exertion. He shook his head, and then rolled over to his stomach, beginning to do push-ups.

Ah, that Wing Ting...if she didn't kill someone one of these days, he'd be very surp--

"Wingy, dearest?!" he called off in the general direction the bubble had come from, "Could you come here for a second?!"

"Can't now, busy chasing fireball!" Wing Ting cried, dashing down past the tree after the sparkle-ball of death and doom. "Wait a second, ple -- AAAAAH!" She tripped...and fell flat on her face, watching as the sparkle ball grew brighter for a moment, and then zip up into the sky without so much as a good-bye.

Wing Ting blinked, breathed slowly, and scooted around on the ground to face Hadrian. She frowned. "What're you doing?" She asked, immitating this...bizarre tribal dance of his. Push up on the ground? Pushy-push? Pushy-push-push?

"Exercising," Hadrian said simply, continuing his push-ups, "Would you help me with something?"

Wing Ting wobbled and collapsed on the ground, eyeing the sky warily. "I hope it doesn't crash into a plane or something. Maybe I should have brought an umbrell..."

Wait, did he ask her something?

Wing Ting perked up significantly, suddenly shooting up into a standing position (if Hadrian was pushy-up, he could look her in the eyes) with one fist punched in the air enthusiastically. "Of course Hadrian! What's it? What do I do?" She asked, nearly dancing on the spot.

Hadrian was growing accostumed to ignoring Wing Ting's random tirades.

"Could you sit on my back?" he asked, as if this were a completely normal thing to ask, "Or lay on it...something. I need a few extra pounds to push..."

Wing Ting blinked. "...what?" She asked blankly. A few extra pounds? Wing Ting wasn't a few extra pounds! She was eighty-five extra pounds of Wing Ting! "Are you sure, Hadrian?" She asked, him, standing up and gingerly walking over. "I mean, I'm not...really...err." She finished lamely, waiting for him to lie a bit lower so she could hop on his back. Sure, she wasn't sure whether or not this was a good idea, but it was his back, not hers.

Hadrian lowered himself to the ground (or nearly), and twitched his head to the side.

"I'm sure. I've done it with bigger people than you."

Wing Ting clambored onto his back and sat pretzel-style, squirming a bit to get comfortable. "If you're sure, then I can," She replied, wondering idly for a moment if she should lie down. But then she got distracted by a speck of floating dust, and forgot all about lying down.

She probably should have layed down.

"Hold on," Hadrian instructed, knowing well of Wing Ting's fear of heights, "Tight."

And so he began his push-ups again.

Wing Ting sort of flailed around once he got up in the air.

Because.

HE WAS IN THE AIR.

"Okay, holding on," She squeaked, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his hair, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing to make sure she didn't fall off. If she kept her eyes shut and concentrated on holding on, Wing Ting almost didn't notice that they were rising off the ground.

Almost.

Hadrian had thought ahead. He had taken a rather deep breath before beginning, and now here he was, holding his breath to avoid being strangled. On a pass down he gave Wing Ting a comforting pat on the arm.

He wouldn't drop her, after all. Not for the twenty minutes or so he could keep this up.

Performance

It had been fairly difficult to fill the tank himself and climb the ladder in prosthetics, but damnit, he'd done it! Hadrian floated boredly at the bottom of his tank, arms waving slowly back and forth to maintain height and his hair billowing out about his head like some kind of filmy white mop.

Honestly, he felt ridiculous, what with all of the facepaint and half-nakedness. It was the first time he'd be floating in front of strangers, and he was just a wee bit nervous.

He didn't quite know what had happened, but a rush of people went straight past the freak tent, not even giving him a cursory glance. Such was the life as a freak, he figured. Not nearly as wonderful as that of a Big Top performer...but, alas, when you had no talent...

There was a sudden loud noise and Hadrian was yanked from his stupor. He flew back a bit, eyes wide, and expelled a small burst of air.

A little girl had tapped on his tank.

After gaining his composure he approached the glass side to meet the girl whom was already bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She said something, but her voice was incredibly muffled and distorted by the gallons of water between her and his eardrums.

Hadrian cocked his head to one side and pressed an ear to the glass.

She spoke again, this time making strange movement with her hands...sign language! Hadrian missed the entire first few words, catching only "i-a-n", and signed for her to start again.

He floated back a bit and blinked., watching the girl's fingers intently.

'My name is Adrian' she signed.

Hadrian grinned.

'My name is Hadrian' he signed back, adding a little extra swing to the H. The girl clapped and shrieked in glee, saying something to her parents in sign language. They didn't look down.

They were deaf.

The girl tugged at her mother's skirt and the woman looked down. The girl proudly proclaimed that the man with the tail had the same name as her, but with an H.

The mother turned to Hadrian and smiled, signing back:

'Hello, Hadrian.'

Hadrian nodded and did a little flip in the water to amuse the girl. It seemed to have worked. He spent the next few minutes showing off for teh girl and signing back and forth before they all waved goodbye. He waved too, sad to see them go, but watched eagerly as more people approached.

---

By the end of the forty-two minutes Hadrian had stayed beneath the surface he had been sworn at, avoided, and made fun of, and his tank had been defiled with the grease of various foodstuffs and a few coins. He had tugged the curtain around his tank closed before he scared himself into thinking he was drowning and collecting the various monies on the floor of the tank.

He wasn't quite sure how much it was, but it looked fair enough.

He climbed carefully from the tank when he was sure nobody was watching, re-clothed in completely drenched jeans, and disappeared through a back flap to the trailers.

As bad as he thought it would be, he couldn't wait to perform again.

He lit up a cigarette and decided that he would go and try to get promoted once he was finished with it.