{Later That Night}
"Well, well… looks like we'll have quite a crowd tonight, hmmm~?" Harlequin's voice drips with amusement as he surveys the gathering from the edge of the performance grounds, the distant murmur of voices and movement carrying through the air like a promise. Lantern light flickers across his green suit as he turns, eyes sharp and gleaming when they land on Pierrot.
"Aww," he continues mockingly, tilting his head. "What's wrong? Looking for your little pet, Pierrot~?" His grin stretches wider, cruel and knowing. "I do wonder how you'll react when I take them from you~."
The words hit their mark.
Pierrot stiffens, fingers curling at his sides as a low growl slips past clenched teeth — a sound far more animal than clown. This time, he doesn't stay silent. The privacy of the moment gives him just enough room to bare his fangs.
"Listen here, Harlequin," he snaps, voice tight with barely restrained fury. "Stay away from my lady, or I will—"
He never finishes.
The air seems to darken, the temperature dropping as a new presence makes itself known.
"Do what, exactly, Pierrot?"
The voice that cuts through the tension is smooth, sinister, and impossibly calm — no less entrancing for how dangerous it sounds. Pierrot freezes mid-breath, his body locking as if instinct itself is screaming at him to stop.
Both he and Harlequin turn slowly.
From the shadows steps their boss.
Clad in a purple jester's suit that seems to swallow the light around him, Jester emerges with measured steps, eyes narrowed as they flick between the two performers. His presence alone is enough to silence the space, the earlier bravado draining away in an instant.
"Didn't I specifically state," he continues coolly, "that infighting or threatening each other is forbidden for you two?" His gaze sharpens. "Or has it started now, where my orders and rules are questioned?"
Neither Pierrot nor Harlequin dares to answer.
Their shoulders tense, heads lowering as their eyes drop to the ground, guilt written plainly across their expressions. The bravado, the taunts, the rivalry — all of it shrinks beneath his scrutiny.
For a moment, Jester simply watches them.
Then his voice softens, just slightly — no less commanding, but no longer cutting.
"Listen," he says, tone firm but deliberate. "Whatever little rivalry you have going on should never result in either of you threatening the other. You hear me?" His gaze lingers on each of them in turn. "We are the only ones we have to rely on. And that means that as much as we may fight or argue… we will never turn against each other."
The words settle heavily between them.
"Am I clear?" he finishes quietly, "Harlequin? Pierrot?"
Both straighten just enough to answer, their voices aligning despite the tension still simmering beneath the surface.
"Yes, Jester."
The moment he turns away, their eyes lift — and immediately lock in a sharp, mutual glare, the rivalry far from gone… merely restrained.
For now.
{At the Ticket Booth}
Black Sapphire waits patiently in line, posture relaxed yet unmistakably poised, her presence alone enough to draw curious glances from the surrounding circus-goers. Whispers ripple through the crowd as eyes linger on her unusual features and striking skin tone, some murmuring in hushed voices as they speculate whether she might be part of the circus's crew — a performer in disguise, perhaps, or something stranger still.
She pays them no mind.
When it's her turn, she steps forward smoothly and produces her red ticket, holding it between two fingers with casual elegance. The person working the booth pauses as soon as they see her, intrigue flickering slightly across their masked face. Their gaze lingers just a second longer than necessary before they punch the ticket with a firm snap and gesture toward the entrance.
"Please enjoy the show, madam," they say, tone polite.
Black Sapphire inclines her head slightly in acknowledgment before moving past the booth and into the heart of the circus grounds.
Almost immediately, her grin widens.
Beneath the sugary haze of candied treats, roasted nuts, and freshly spilled drinks, she catches it — the faint, unmistakable tang of blood, hidden deep beneath the comforting scent of sawdust and greasepaint. Her eyes narrow in quiet pleasure as she breathes it in, senses sharpening. Voices drift around her, snippets of conversation overlapping as she wanders just close enough to listen without seeming to do so.
Rumors. Secrets. Half-truths.
She gathers them effortlessly, filing each whispered word away for later, already imagining how they'll sound woven into her next broadcast. All the while, she plays her part perfectly — an amused patron, unaware and unbothered.
Though she is aware.
She doesn't look toward the lingering gaze she feels boring into her back, nor does she acknowledge it when, moments later, it finally slips away into the shadows. The knowledge alone is enough to amuse her.
"Hmmm," she murmurs to herself as she glances toward the tents, lips curling. "I suppose Pierrot's show hasn't started yet?"
Her gaze drifts deliberately toward the green-marked tent, eyes glinting with mischief.
"I guess I'll just have to attend the green one instead… for now~."
The whisper is sweet, teasing — and she knows exactly who it's meant for.
Somewhere behind one of the tents, hidden from view, her little monster is undoubtedly standing rigid with restrained fury, teeth clenched, growling at the mere thought. And yet, bound by the circus's rules, he can do nothing about it.
The knowledge only makes her smile wider as she disappears into the crowd.