(Third Person's POV)
The man in the clown costume waited patiently for the man who had brought him the bag to leave, then he slowly came down from his high chair and walked to the bag.
"Uh, what manner of stress is this?" He whined tiredly and stretched like a cat. "Did I really have to put up all that act just so I wouldn't be recognized?"
He took a pause in front of the black suitcase and turned around looking for a stone or anything heavy. "Just to make sure I don't actually get killed when I touch it." He muttered and threw the gravel he found at the bag.
"Phew." He said when nothing happened, then grabbed the bag and walked into the dark part of the arena.
His home away from home.
Making himself comfortable, he removed the costume and cleaned his face, taking more time to look at it. "Well, I look better than yesterday." He smiled.
After washing his hands, he carried the bag and placed it on a makeshift table.
"Time to see what we've got here." He muttered.
