a. Jack’s in his element at a party, and this soirée at the Black Swan is his very favorite sort: crowded, loud, and casual. From the moment he escorts his young wife through the door, he’s all smiles and handshakes and chit-chat as he works the room, and he’s clearly having a ball. No shyness here, folks! He’s out to greet everyone, friends and strangers alike, and from the relaxed, easy smile he’s wearing, one would think he’s known these people all his life.

He catches sight of someone standing all by their lonesome, and saunters over to stand by their elbow. Proper etiquette dictates that he ought to have someone introduce him, or at the very least introduce himself. Instead, he leads with, “Well, now, you look like someone who’s got something interesting to say. Don’t suppose you’d share it with me?”

b. Once he’s chatted up damn near everyone, it’s time to hit the dance floor. The fiddle player’s really tearing things up, with bouncy, joyful reels that kick Jack’s smile up to eleven. This is the kind of music he loves, the stuff of tenement rooftop parties and wild dance hall nights, of circus campfire circles and late nights on the trains. He could dance to this for days and never get tired of it.

His first dance, of course, is with his wife. After that, he seems to see every woman in the room as a potential dance partner. Young, old, lovely, plain—it doesn’t matter to Jack. He wants to see every lady at the party cut loose and enjoy herself for a song, and he’d be just delighted if they happened to do so with him. If your character appears to be female, it’s only a matter of time before Jack will come over, flash a smile, and offer his hand. “Dance with me?”

The circus won’t actually open for another two weeks, but it’s never too early to start building anticipation. Jack has a roll of beautifully chromolithographed posters tucked under one arm, and he’s working his way through the center of town, putting them up with a pot of paste and a brush.

The posters feature a brilliant, dizzying array of circus icons: somersaulting clowns leaping over an elephant, a beautiful trapeze girl soaring overhead, a roaring lion with glistening teeth. Jack himself is featured in the top left corner, wearing a sharp purple suit and a ringmaster’s top hat. Handsome text reads:

Mister Napier’s World-Famous Pandemonium Show
Three-ring circus, meadow carnival, and menagerie of wonders!
The finest attractions and most daring of feats!
Smiles Positively Guaranteed for All Ages
—Arriving soon—

This is the sort of job that he really should have sent one of his employees to do, but Jack wanted to get a better first-hand look at the town. He's not just here to put on a show, after all. He needs to recruit new talent. Hire someone to repaint the wagons and repair the carousel. Perhaps even find the Next Big Thing, something or somebody he can use to draw in the crowds throughout Europe and make his circus truly shine again. And for any of that to work, he needs to get to know the locals. So he whistles as he goes, wanting people to know he's there. His songs are all cheerful and child-friendly, classics like There's a Hole in My Bucket and Alouette.

He's just pasting a poster up in front of the King's Head Inn when a sudden gust of wind snatches the paper from his grasp. Jack twists and tries to catch it, but it darts away like the Devil himself's caught hold of it. It's heading right for a pedestrian, in fact, and if they don't look sharp, they're about to get smacked in the legs with it. Jack waves an arm at them, trying to get their attention. "Hey--look out!"

The circus sits at the outskirts of town, and it's currently only halfway set up. The tents are up, looking faded and dingy, and the animals are in their normal enclosures, but none of the signage is displayed yet. None of the frills are in place; there are no bells or whistles; and the only foods being cooked are the ones the circus folks make for themselves. It's like a house that hasn't been moved into. And as Jack stands in the empty Big Top on an unseasonably chilly afternoon, he can see that it's become a pretty shabby house, indeed.

He walks to the center of the tent, where in a couple short weeks he'll be smiling and cracking his whip as he tries to help the good citizens of Lethevale shake off their mortal cares and escape to his world of enchantment. He wants to give them a show they'll never forget, the kind of show he knows he's capable of. Something that'll put a smile on their faces that will never fully fade. But what? He closes his eyes and tries to remember the early days, when he was impossibly young and full of optimism. Before the hard times came, before Jeannie and all the rest. Back then, anything had seemed possible. What would that Jack have done to reinvigorate the show?

He has money to work with now, thanks to having duped dear little Marie into becoming the latest Mrs. Napier. But he's terrified of screwing this opportunity up, of squandering it on the wrong things and watching his show die around him. Pandemonium's people and animals are all depending on him to get this right. And, even more than that, he's put his name on this show. It's his legacy; it's all he has. He's saddled himself with a woman for the sake of it, he's done all manner of other unconscionable things for it, and he'll be goddamned before he sees it fail. He just needs to find the right approach, that's all. He just needs to think this through...

He's so deep in thought that he doesn't hear the footsteps behind him at first. When he does, they're very close, too close. Instincts take over, and Jack pulls his revolver out in one fast motion as he spins toward the sound. He's got the gun pointed at his visitor before he even sees who they are, and the hard look in his eyes isn't welcoming at all.