TDM The First

[lethevale_mods]

You probably know how this works, but just in case, here's the idea:

1. You put the name of the character you're testing out in the subject line
2. You write a starter (or several!) in the comment, with the Lethevale AU of your character.
3. People respond with their characters. Threads occur. Friendships are made. The world is put to rights.
4. None of the threads in the Test Drive are game-canon.

Here are some prompts to start you off!

1. Seeking Shelter

You were riding along the mountain road when your horse, terrified by some dark shadow you couldn't see clearly, screamed and bolted, throwing you. Now you're caught in the middle of nowhere, in Lethe Wood, and the rain is getting heavier by the minute.

But what's that? A light? A house? Perhaps if you knock, they'll give you a bed for the night. It'll all look better in the morning...

 

 

2. The Beast! The Terrible Beast!

You took all the precautions. You carried a lantern, kept to the safer streets. Or maybe you didn't. Either way, you were attacked by something as big as a horse, with gleaming white teeth and a hideous howl.

When you run into another person, will you warn them? Will you ask them for a hiding place, or stand and fight? If all else fails, maybe you can use them as live bait...

 

3. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

Lethevale isn't all monsters and storms. Mostly, but not all. Tonight, there's a party in the Black Swan - dancing, music, and of course, an open bar. Take the chance to get to know your neighbours, why don't you?

4. Pay No Attention To The Passage Behind The Curtain

The two of you were just wandering around Lethe Hall, when you leant on a candlestick, and... what's this? The bookshelf's opened? There's a hole in the wall now, and a spiral staircase leading down into the dark. You know, it's probably best to just leave well enough alone - but you have to admit, it's curious...

COMMS	GENERAL INFO	NEW PLAYERS	CURRENT PLAYERS
main writings ooc mods mod npcs	rules setting premise faq/mod contact gameplay	reserves taken latest tdm application au workshop	contact (locked) hiatus/drop calendar latest hmd lethevale

Comments

Joker ("Jack") | DC Comics (Preboot)

[criminallysane]

3 - Merrie Melodies

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?”

Wildcard 1 – Conman Coming

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!"

Wildcard 2 – Pandemonium

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.

3b.

[gloves]

Jack had been bright and charismatic and charming in New York; it was part of why she’d so easily and quickly fallen for him. Things had been a bit more touch-and-go since arriving in Europe, where he’d been forced into a number of admissions. Like the circus isn’t actually making any money. Like by the way, my goddaughter lives here. Like other than the money we got from your father, I’m flat broke.

So it wasn’t a stretch to say that things were a little strained.

Luckily, with Jack so busy moving the circus to Lethevale, and then preparing for a grand opening (and, she was fairly sure, spending the money he’d been given by her father in order to do so), it meant that it was a little easier to pretend that things weren’t strange. That she didn’t hear the whispers from the carnies about his first wife’s death. That Jeannie’s train car wasn’t practically a shrine to the dead woman’s memory. That there was no estate, no house, no nothing, except a failing carnival.

So when they entered the Black Swan and she saw the Jack that she knew vibrantly come back to life, it lifted a weight from her shoulders that she hadn’t quite been fully conscious of. This was better; the money didn’t matter that much (and definitely not nearly as much as that she didn’t understand why he’d lied in the first place). So things were a little rough now. They’d work through it. Everything would start to look up. And this would be the life he’d pitched to her: glamorous and exciting.

She’d let him schmooze on his own halfway through said schmoozing process, opting to lean against the bar and watch the people in the tavern. It was a big change, that was for sure. Loud music, boisterous laughter, and drinks that could have been anything. It was nothing like the parties she’d been to back home, which were delicate and specially fitted with their own rules of etiquette.

Marie was sipping one of those aforementioned drinks, carefully holding it with both hands; the weather here seemed to make her fingers stiffer than normal and while, at worst, a stranger might think her gloved hands were a little clumsy, she didn’t want to dump the whole glass on the floor because she wasn’t paying attention. And even though she’d been upset with Jack as often as she’d been happy with him since arriving in Europe, now her eyes lit up at the sight of him approaching her to dance.

“I have no idea how to do this,” she said with a laugh. Dancing, to her, had always been a specific, pre-determined set of steps that everyone followed. Not actually moving whatever which way the music took you.

[criminallysane]

Jack had kept an eye on her--discreetly, of course--while he mixed and mingled. Any fool knew not to bring an unhappy bride to a party like this and leave her completely to her own devices for long. Not that he thought Marie would take up with some local bozo or cause a scene; she seemed like too much of a lady for that. But she hadn't exactly made a secret of her displeasure with him, either, and the last thing he needed was for her to get sauced and start telling people what a louse she thought he was.

If he was going to succeed at winning over the good people of Lethevale, he needed to appear trustworthy and kind. A lovely, charming wife who believed in and adored him would be a major asset; a bitterly disappointed bride who despised him could ruin everything. So when he saw Marie's eyes light up for him, with a spark of the same delight he'd seen there when they were courting, the smile he offered her brightened with genuine gratitude.

She had loved him in New York; he was certain of that. God knew she had every reason to hate him now. But when she laughed for him, and when she was looking at him like she had back in her daddy's parlor, Jack had no trouble at all remembering how much he could enjoy her company. With her in a hansom cab beside him, tearing through the streets of Manhattan, he'd felt like he really was the man he pretended to be: successful, dashing, and carefree. And now, as he took her hand gently in his own and led her away from the bar, he could believe he was that person once again. With her at his side and the music singing in his veins, he felt charming and unstoppable, a showman for the ages.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you." His tone said he was teasing her--for what could happen to her on a dance floor, really?--but the affection in his eyes added more weight to the words than he'd intended. Jack pressed a hand to Marie's lower back and pulled her close. The other raised her hand to shoulder-level, keeping his touch as light as he could while still providing enough structure to lead. "Just listen to the music, Sweetpea. And trust me!"

He could feel the rhythm in the music like a second heartbeat, begging to be followed. Jack nodded to Marie with the first few beats of it, his smile widening--one, and two, and here they went!--and she felt magnificent against him as he began to lead her in a purely instinctive set of circling steps, and who wouldn't be thrilled to be seen dancing with a woman like this? His fingertips pressed a bit more firmly into the small of her back, possessively keeping her close even as the music quickened and their steps quickened with it.

[gloves]

And trust me!

Wasn't that just the most ironic thing for him to say to her?

All the same, there was nothing but relief and happiness in her expression when she saw his smile brighten, like simply being happy to see him might have brought him a measure of satisfaction.

Marie hadn't been considering throwing a fit -- that would just be poor form and, frankly, if she was going to get worked up she'd save it for when he'd be the sole person to witness it -- or to get sloshed and start spilling things to strangers. It might not have been ideal, but even though she was still working through the actual truth when it came to Jack, she knew him better than anyone in this entire town. If nothing else, there seemed to be little reason for him to lie now, other than placating her.

So, no, indiscretions or not, there was no one in Lethevale she was going to trust more than Jack. Not even his employees.

Though she had taken a liking to a round-faced clown who seemed to be willing to do whatever she asked and put up with her.

Her smile was genuine: this was the sort of thing she'd been excited for. Visiting different places and getting to experience all sorts of different cultures and festivities and ways of life. Her own life had been, in a word, sheltered. And a lively bar with equally lively music and the kind of dancing that wasn't planned but that just happened was one of life's many great mysteries. More that that, it was the way Jack made her feel when he lit up like this. Like anything and everything was possible; like none of her limitations made a damn difference; like the world was open and welcome and just waiting to be explored.

And, though her hands might not have worked properly, her feet did and were a quick study to boot. Of course, it didn't seem like any step was wrong here, as long as she didn't stomp on one of his feet and she followed his lead.

Which was exactly what she did as she let herself melt into his embrace. This was the kind of dancing that could work up a sweat, and that in particular certainly wasn't ladylike. But for the moment, she had forgotten to worry about what her father or her aunt would think and focused on keeping up with him, her laughter only becoming more louder and more sincere as they went, like the entire experience was stunningly new and a true delight.

"I'd think dancing would be more dangerous for you than me, Jack," she said, slightly breathless and having to raise her voice above proper levels just to make sure he could hear her, in response to his comment about not letting anything happen to her. It was said lightly and in jest because, of course, she was wearing the heels and was more likely to have two left feet in this scenario. But she'd missed feeling like he looked at her with nothing but the affection he was showing now. He might have been a liar, completely broke, and a con man, but she couldn't just turn off the feelings she'd developed for him.

[criminallysane]

She felt incredible in his arms, not least of all because she was acting like she actually wanted to be there. Marie wasn't holding herself stiffly away from him, or resisting his lead. No, she'd melted into his touch like she belonged against him, and she was following with a wonderful sort of spontaneity, and wasn't this precisely what he'd always wanted in a wife? Someone who could go with him, lean into him, and just delight in the moment?

It made for a radical departure from what Jeannie had been like in the end. Always ready to argue, with worry lines carving themselves deep between her brows and a put-upon look that never fully left her eyes. To Jeannie, he had been a disappointment, a man who could neither restore the circus he'd built to its former glory nor bear to let it go. To Jeannie, he'd been weak, and unable to do what needed to be done.

Funny: nobody seemed to be saying that about him now that she was dead.

And with Marie laughing near his ear and their feet beating a fast, circling rhythm against the inn's wooden floor, the idea that anything might ever be beyond his capabilities seemed absurd to Jack. Why, he was the master of the greatest show in Europe! Or he would be soon enough, anyway. He had a beautiful bride, a team of men and women he could count upon, and this whole wonderful town at his disposal. Life was good! Hell, life was just about perfect.

"For me?" he repeated. His smile went a little wider, openly amused, as they galloped about the room. "Listen! If you think dancing can scare me, you must not have met my wife."

He spun her out, keeping her close even in that. "She's a hellion, you know." Spun her back in. His eyes sparkled, adoring and unable to stay away from her. "The fiercest woman in Manhattan, people said."

Nobody had ever said anything even vaguely of the sort to him, but so what? The truth didn't matter half as much as her amusement did.

Jack lowered his head so that he could murmur directly into her ear and be heard over the music. Her hair brushed softly against his cheek. "That's why I had to have her."

For her spirit. Right. Not for her father's cash.

[gloves]

Now was certainly not the time to ask if he really meant that.

Marie hadn't asked explicitly yet, even if the signs were all there. He’d just happened to choose the daughter of a rich entrepreneur when his own business was tanking? She wasn’t a complete idiot. But what did it say about her if she, as his wife, showed such a blatant distrust in him? Regardless of whether there was a justification for it. Asking would make it completely obvious that she thought more than just the money thing was a lie, that she sometimes she stayed up late at night, staring at the tent’s ceiling, wondering if he actually loved her or if he’d made that up too.

More than that, though, she was afraid of what the answer might be if she pushed and pushed for a genuine, truthful answer. In moments like this, she thought Jack could convince her of anything. Of his regal upbringing, and his successful circus, and his affection for her. And, in his less jubilant moments, she was nervous of what he'd say. What might come out of his mouth, barked or snapped or hateful, like she was more an irritant and less his new wife.

But it was easy to forget that for the moment, with his breath against and his voice in her ear. Like they were a perfectly normal couple without a care in the world. And, from the outside, it had to seem that way.

"Did you hear this before or after you met me?" she responded, her gloved hand slipping over his shoulder, unable to hold back to slight shiver in response to his words against her skin. Marie was well aware he was teasing her; certainly Manhattan housed far fiercer women. A lot of them shopped at her father’s department store. The kind of women who were brave enough to wear bold lipsticks and rouges in public.

Well. She might have had a nanny or two who'd referred to her as a terror. (Or a few other unflattering things).

But, for now, she was happy to play along with this game. She was also happy that he was lavishing this much sweet attention on her — and publicly no less — instead of pacing around the circus grounds and in their tent like he was thinking of unpleasant things.

[criminallysane]

Her shiver did not go unnoticed.

In any con--which was certainly what this was, or at least what this had been--there came a moment when the cracks started to show. The mark, who after being read and roped and hooked had been allowed to win for a while, would finally begin to lose. This was the breakdown, the point at which the goal became getting the mark to double-down on her investment so that the grifter could take her for all she was worth before giving her the blow-off. This was the moment in which a man who'd just lost a ten-spot on an "unlucky" round of three-card monte might be persuaded to put down his last tenner to try to win it all back, for instance. Or when a duped bride, who'd recently learned that her husband wasn't quite the success he'd claimed, might be fooled into having her daddy send "just a little more" money in order to set things right "once and for all." Because surely, surely she hadn't been a total fool to fall for him, right? Surely there was something real there.

This was the phase toward which Jack was supposed to be gradually maneuvering Marie.

So that shiver of hers should have turned his smile sharp; he should've seen it as proof that she was still very much under his control and that all would be well. His sweet, lovely, trusting little wife, who'd given up her heart and a good chunk of her father's fortune just because someone had gazed lovingly into her eyes and sworn that she was special. He should have thought less of her for her responsiveness, just as he'd thought less of her in New York every time she'd let him take her hand. She was just a mark, and she was behaving precisely as a mark should.

Instead, he found it oddly enticing. To be surrounded by a crowd, and to have her physically responding to him like she liked his lips against her ear? To feel once again as unstoppable as he'd felt on the day she'd accepted his proposal? It was exhilarating. His fingers tightened a little more against her back, though he was still smiling, well aware of how conspicuous they were in the center of the room.

"Oh, I learned all that after, of course." Around them, people skipped and cavorted and pranced with the music, and Jack made sure he and Marie kept up with them. Their feet flew; her skirts swished; everything was just as it should be. But the quickening of his pulse had nothing to do with the dancing. He wanted to feel her shiver again. To see her smile up at him and know that she meant it. "When I was inquiring as to the character of a certain young lady who'd quite stolen my heart." He pulled back enough to be able to see her face, and his own expression was all amusement and affection. "I'll have you know I was sternly warned that you'd eat me alive. Which, naturally... Only made me like you better."

One brow arched, teasing her. "You don't think they misled me, do you? Sold me a lion but gave me a lamb?"

[gloves]

How she’d respond if he’d actually voiced any of that was anyone’s guess. She might actually toss away all her determination to act appropriately and tell him just what she thought of someone who’d lie so easily to someone he claimed to love.

Though the idea that, even now, she was behaving according to plan would have actually sent her into a tizzy from which there would be no recovering from.

Well, one of them wouldn’t recover from it. And, though she knew they were teasing each other at the moment, a glimpse into Jack’s mind would have given him a wonderful introduction to just exactly how much of a hellcat she could be.

The dance steps had started to become familiar and second-nature, where she didn’t have to focus as hard on them to make sure she could keep up. And it was the kind of dancing that thrummed in her pulse and thumped in her throat. If it was possible to feel free in a world where she was expected to act a certain way, this was it. It was exhilarating. She could only imagine it was something like being granted the ability to fly, to soar above everything that troubled her and allowed her to just be.

Her smile twitched a bit, looking, at least for the moment, like the curious and doting young woman he’d married, the one who’d loosely linked arms with him on the streets of Manhattan and begged Tell me all about the circus, Jack. Tell me about Europe. And all the wonderful things we’ll do there together. Instead of the one who shot suspicious looks in his direction when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“You tell me, Mr. Napier. Do you think you were given a lamb?” Marie was clearly amused, her eyes shining with something that very well might have been daring him to call her such a thing as a lamb disguised as a lion.

[criminallysane]

"You know, I haven't quite decided."

She was a lamb. Absolutely, unquestionably a lamb. That had, in fact, been her entire appeal: a wealthy, sweet, pretty little lamb who might bleat at him occasionally but would still do as she was instructed. But was he going to tell her that? Not on his life.

"On the one hand," he mused, obviously still teasing her, "you're quite fluffy... at least in certain places." His fingertips danced playfully lower down her back, stopping just short of her bustle. "And I think you'd be delicious with a dollop of mint jelly."

He had to pause for another spin, because the music demanded it and why the hell not? Then his hand was firm at her back again, catching her and pulling her back in.

"You've also got those very lambykins eyes." Which he was gazing into now, even as his peripheral vision kept watch over the crowd lest they hit anyone. Jack's voice lost some of its playfulness as he looked at her, and his brows twitched, his expression turning more thoughtful. "Really, darling, you could own half the souls in this room with those."

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then returned to her eyes. "So a case could be made, yes, that I've been defrauded. But then I ask myself--" Another pause, as they maneuvered their way around another dancing couple. "Would a lamb have ever been brave enough to run away with me as this girl did? Would it chase adventure with me as she does?"

He shook his head slightly, and the look in his eyes was almost tender now. "Just the fact that you're here, in this place. Dancing with me. That you haven't yet run screaming. That's all the proof I need, Little Lion."

[gloves]

Marie was considering his words as he spun her, then pulled her back (safely?) into his arms.

A lamb, indeed.

“Honestly, Jack, if you’re considering devouring me, it should be somewhere less public.” Not that any of that was appropriate to say in polite company, but Jack wasn’t politely company and there was little to no chance of anyone else hearing her over the music.

It would be wise — even while she was looking up at him with the eyes he was complimenting — to remember that if he could lie about about who he was he could lie even easier about how pretty her eyes were. Instead of being flattered and batting her lashes at him. Yes, it would be very wise to keep that in mind.

Because, though she was still here with him, though she hadn’t run screaming, any other options were very limited. Much like any communication back home. Which, she supposed, were the pitfalls of marrying a man and running off to Europe with him and his circus. She couldn’t very well make him answer up for his lies without putting her own well-being in jeopardy. And she wanted to believe in him so very, very desperately. She wanted the adventures he’d spun for her. She wanted to see the world with him content in the knowledge that he couldn’t live without her.

And if she demanded a divorce, and somehow managed to flounce home on her own, she’d be giving up all of that.

“Maybe I like having you believe I’m sweet and innocent.” Well. No. She was innocent. She wasn’t worldly. She’d wandered right into his trap like a fly into a spiderweb. Sweet was touch and go, though he’d been far more on the receiving end of her sweetness than her ire. “Maybe I’m a lion in sheep’s clothing. You like surprises, don’t you?”

[criminallysane]

Devouring her?

Jack laughed unintentionally, tickled. That mint jelly joke could've easily turned a girl snippy; it had been a bit risqué. But Marie had seen his bet and then raised it! Somewhere less public, indeed. What a woman.

And to everyone else in the pub, she must still look like the perfect lady. Only he had heard her; Jack was certain of that. Which, of course, only made her more appealing.

"Oh, you never cease to surprise." His gaze darkened, and for a moment he looked at her like he really might just gobble her up. The saucy little lamb...

If she wanted to pretend to be a lioness, of course he would let her. Encourage her, even. It would flatter her ego, and it would amuse him. And what could be more endearing, truly, than a tiny brazen lamb trying to growl?

As long as she stayed safely inside her pen, that is.

The reel ended abruptly on a bright high note, and all around them, couples ended their dancing with smiles and nods and thank yous. Jack pulled Marie tightly to him, putting his friendly smile back in place for anyone who might be watching, and dipped his head to whisper in her ear.

"But try not to eat anyone while Daddy works the crowd here, 'kay? Bad for business." He kissed her hairline, just above her temple. Then he was pulling back, with that showman's smile bright and steady for the crowd, and giving her a courtly half-bow. "Thank you for the dance, Mrs. Napier. You are--as always--the finest of partners."

[gloves]

She looked delighted in response to his laugh. When it was like this — free and unfettered and unplanned and sincere — Marie thought it was the most wonderful laugh she’d ever heard. She could hardly say she’d known him for a long time. Or even a decent stretch of time. But she could tell the difference between his showman’s laughter and the moments where he was caught off guard by something he found genuinely funny.

And for a few seconds it was like being back in New York again when the entire world had seemingly opened up to her.

Marie was breathless and looking far from wanting to growl when the music stopped and he tugged her in close. The thrill of that definitely hadn’t faded yet, even if, now married, it was slightly less taboo to show affection openly in public. It still reminded her of evenings where she’d push the boundaries of how late it was acceptable to stay out and the mornings of waking up to the excitement of getting to see him again.

“I can’t promise anything, darling. But I’ll try to behave.” She would behave. Even with their troubles, doing anything to jeopardize the chances of this circus making a comeback would be monumentally stupid. And, frankly, she hoped he’d remain in this good mood for the rest of the night so she wouldn’t be left wondering what, if anything, was bothering him and whether she’d participated in his sour demeanor.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long. You know how easily I can get myself into trouble.” That could have been taken as a threat, but she was still smiling and had offered his hand a light, barely there squeeze before he’d pulled away. Besides, she looked entirely too amused to be doing anything other than teasing him. “Come fetch me when you’re done mingling.”

[criminallysane]

How beautiful she was! Breathless and happy and asking him to come fetch her, Marie looked like the idea of girlish beauty incarnate. Her words didn't sound like a threat to Jack. They sounded like a temptation.

"I'd take you home this minute if I could."

Of all the rich lambs he could have swindled, of course he'd had to go and pick this one. The teasing, smart-mouthed one, who'd wiggle her tail at him and say, Gee, shepherd, better not leave me alone too long!

Sometimes Jack thought he wasn't half as smart as he needed to be. Love was for suckers and Bowery songs; he knew that. He'd gone to New York not to comfort his grieving heart, but to find a docile, obedient girl with money. Yet he'd come back with her.

Which was fine as a start; Marie certainly met his qualifications for a bride. But now he was looking at her and thinking about how shepherds had to stand watch all night over their sheep. All this lion flattery was well and good, but nobody ever lost sleep guarding a lioness. No, it was the lambs who'd keep a man up through the darkest hours, shivering on a hillside, because they were too precious to risk. And as he gazed at his little Lamb Chop now, there was no mistaking the look of protective tenderness in his eyes.

He wondered what Jeannie--a lioness, if ever there was one--would think if she could see this. Her useless failure of a husband, fawning over an innocent half his age! The thought shamed him, and the walls seemed to snap back into place behind his eyes. His showman's smile, however, held steady.

"Enjoy yourself. And wish me luck."

Another wink, but it felt forced. Then he was turning away from her, with a smile that told the crowd everything was just peachy keen. Another song started up, and Jack left his wife behind, forcing himself to keep his back to her so that the sight of her couldn't pull him back to her side.

He had work to do.

Sort of wildcard 1?

[her_rose_is_red]

"Uncle Jack!"

Ib waves cheerfully as she walks over, clearly pleased about something.

"I met some local boys near the schoolhouse. I told them all about the circus."

She's gotten pretty good at selling the show to other children, knowing exactly the kinds of things that get them interested.

"They don't think I'm brave enough to be in the ring with a real lion so I told them to come see for themselves."

This in particular is a tactic that's worked for her before. Boys always scoff at the thought that such a small girl could be that brave. Never mind that Hubert isn't really all that scary. They don't need to know that.

[criminallysane]

Taking full-time responsibility for a goddaughter was the last thing Jack had initially thought he wanted. His heart belonged to the show, or so he'd thought; he didn't have time to be running around chasing after some brat. He'd liked Ib, of course. Who wouldn't? But taking her in and effectively agreeing to raise her? That was something else altogether.

But after two years of having the child with him, Jack can't imagine how he ever got along without her. He loves her spirit, he loves her courage, and he loves what an adorable little hustler she's already shaping up to be. Everyone said he was crazy to stick a child in a ring with a lion, but Ib's a natural, clearly born for this life. Hardly a day goes by that Jack doesn't find himself delighted by something new that she's done, and she brings more joy to his world than he would have ever thought possible.

He turns to her now with a bright smile, pleased at the unexpected interruption and company. "Well, hello, Buttercup." He sets the paste pot and brush down, and shifts the posters under his arm so that he can fish about in his jacket pocket, searching for something. He finds what he's looking for, a small paper bag with a stick of rock candy inside, and tosses it to her with a wink. The general store had had such a colorful display of them when he'd stopped by there earlier, and, well, what sort of uncle would he be if he hadn't picked one up for her?

"What do you want to bet at least one of those boys pisses himself when he sees your act?"

[her_rose_is_red]

She has been adapting well to circus life, and she's certainly got the potential to be the cutest con artist ever. Of course, whether that's a good thing is probably debatable. She catches the bag deftly and her smile brightens in delight when she sees what's inside. She loves hard candy, and while lemon is her favorite, any is good.

"Thanks!"

Ib giggles as she unwraps her treat.

"They just might. I can't wait to see their faces."

She takes a moment to taste the candy and then gestures with it as an idea occurs to her.

"Oh! Maybe we can do the trick where I put my hand in Hubert's mouth! Everyone always gasps when I do that one. Or the one where he jumps over me."

She's already planning the show in her head, never mind that she's more of an assistant hasn't even asked the actual trainer about any of this yet. And he really isn't fond of her doing the more dangerous tricks.

[criminallysane]

Jack notes her skillful catch and grins his approval. Dexterity and physical awareness--these are essential for showmanship. His girl's progressing wonderfully with both, at least in his own (admittedly biased) opinion, and each display of her talents only serves to puff him up with more pride over her.

How could he have ever thought he didn't need this child in his life?

He doesn't balk at the idea of her putting her paw into Hubert's maw; the old boy's not going to bite her, and if he did, it wouldn't be over something like that. If anything, the hand-in-the-mouth trick is starting to strike Jack as overly tame.

Perhaps what the show needs is something more daring. Something that'll really make the rubes sit up and take notice.

He nods thoughtfully. "You do know how to play that one up like a pro... And you've gotten so good with Hubert, too. Why, I think he'd even let you brush his teeth if you really felt like it."

Not that that would be entertaining to watch.

Jack gives his goddaughter a canny look. She's plenty creative, and she has a much better sense than he does of what kids these days enjoy. Why not see what other ideas she can cook up?

"Tell me something. If you were going to see a lion show, at somebody else's circus, what would you want them to do?" He's smiling at her, but his eyes are sharp. "What would be the most thrilling, most exciting thing you can imagine happening?" And then, dryly: "Short of someone getting eaten, I mean."

Wildcard 2

[tactlesstantei]

Masumi was out and about, exploring the town and thinking about how she needed to get back on the road if she ever wanted to get to Britain and start looking for her missing family members. But with her horse out of commission, she wasn’t going anywhere for the moment.

As such, she was dragged out of her concerns about being held up by someone calling out for her, prompting her to look up just as a poster blew directly into her legs. Startled, Masumi grabbed the paper before it could blow away and looked it over, finding that it was for some sort of circus. Huh.

“I figure this is yours? She held out the poster, curiosity lighting her eyes as she spoke.

[criminallysane]

Not exactly the sort of first impression he'd hoped to create in this town, but such was life. On an upnote, the young lady his poster had attacked didn't seem too upset about it.

Jack flashed her a grateful, embarrassed smile and came running right over. "Thank you, yes. I'm so sorry."

He took the offered poster and added it to the others, rolling them back up and tucking them securely under his arm. "These winds, they pick up out of nowhere, hm?"

Once the posters were taken care of, he turned back to her with a brighter, wider smile. "I'm Jack Napier." A quick flick of his wrist, and he was suddenly holding a business card colorfully printed with his own name, that of his show, and a jester in the style of Mr. Punch. He offered the card to the girl. "Owner and operator of the world-famous Pandemonium Show! And it seems I'm in your debt."

[tactlesstantei]

“It’s fine, really! It wasn’t that hard to get the poster.” Even so, she accepted the card and looked it over before pocketing it. “I’m Masumi Akai, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Introductions out of the way, Masumi had to admit she was curious about this circus and what it was doing here. Maybe she could ask about it?

“So, a circus? I’ve never seen one before.” Masumi had heard of circuses before, but had no direct experience with them herself. Maybe it would be worth seeing what was going on if she was going to be in town at the same time as the circus.

[criminallysane]

"The pleasure's all mine, Miss Akai." Jack was the sort of man who could make a throwaway line like that sound sincere, and he certainly looked like he meant it now. He was in full showman mode, with a warmth to his tone and a sparkle in his eyes that suggested he was truly delighted to have met her.

Nor was it entirely an act. Jack had learned early on that young women and children were often the gatekeepers to a family's purse-strings when it came to entertainment. He could pitch a circus to a grown man, of course; the love of spectacle never really went away, and nostalgia could be a powerful motivator. But how much more effective, to go after the young! They often dragged family along with them; they were more likely to want treats and souvenirs; they were the ones who'd want to ride the carousel with their sweethearts, have their fortunes told, and play the (very rigged) games. He took one look at Masumi and saw, in short, his ideal customer.

"Well, then. You'll have to come out and see ours." His free hand slipped into his jacket as he spoke. "Why, we've got all sorts of wonders. Trapeze artists who defy the very laws of gravity. Fire eaters, and dancing bears, and even," with a shrewder look at her, as if she had a secret and he knew precisely what it was, "a fortune teller who's never been wrong."

He pulled a small ticket reading Admit One from the inner pocket of his jacket and offered it to Masumi. "Since you were so kind as to help me... Why don't you come out to the show when we open, as my guest?"

[tactlesstantei]

"Oh? It sounds fun, I'll have to come when it's ready!" Masumi accepted the ticket, her curiosity drawn by the claims of what would be there. And well, if she was going to be in the area maybe it would be worth making use of the ticket to go.

And well, maybe she needed the distraction. Masumi had been quite focused on her primary goal of locating her missing family members, and could easily use the opportunity to relax and check out the circus. Even if she wasn't exactly the easy customer Jack would expect, in that she had no family in town to bring, was perhaps a bit unlikely to blow all her money on carnival games, and was way too curious for her own good, she was at least one who would certainly come and look around.

"So, when do you think it'll be open?" Any worries were covered up by her eagerness about the circus. "The poster said it's coming soon, but doesn't say when..."

3a

[tuishou]

He's no stranger to parties like these: makeshift and boisterous and the allure of simply not being left out of the next night's gossip being the largest draw, almost magnetic, for the people who swarm in by the hour. The night is late, he's sure, and his drink's all but gone. A tired day of monotony and easier work than his nerves and muscles ache for has left him with little desire to ask for more of the beer- and really, he doubts the punch of the alcohol would have even dazed his genin self. But it was offered, and free, and crisp, and Neji couldn't say no. Just as he couldn't say no to being brought to the tavern at all-- his friends would bark out jeers at the thought. Him? Strong-armed by a man roughly his same age (who then left to chase skirts, the bastard) to attend a joyful affair so out of the blue?

It's a sure sign of the end of days.

Him. Hyuuga Neji. Resting his drink on a table to his left and standing out-of-the-ways of the dance and blunder. Wearing a stern brown coat and trousers with shoes which still hurt his feet from lack of being broken-in. Wearing his hair up, for once, because if his idea was to make the best of the generosity of the hosting town then he couldn't chance being (again) mistaken for a woman by some inebriated cretin. Wearing that band on his forehead as always. Him, the boy who had yet to say a word with any meaning all this while because "thank you"s and "yes sir"s don't fucking count and who seemed more than content to keep it that way.

As is natural, Fate had other orders for how his night should go and Neji was, again, helpless. Not out of any dire need or want to be so; to turn his back on this stranger approaching would be beyond rude. If the man with the polished shoes and styled hair and eager smiles hadn't just made quick friends of half of the damn room (half the town, seemingly), then so be it. But to be extended an olive branch from a town-full of men and ladies wary of strangers and travellers and to shove it back in their face, at this point, would help nothing and no one.

The young man always stood soldier-straight; he only couldn't help the slightest uptilt of his chin in way of greeting to the man. It was almost ridiculous; the new company had almost a foot on him in stature. Was far older. Was far more well-liked.

Neji nodded, to try and piece his words together. "You are correct in your assumption, sir," he says.

White eyes, his gaze, raises to search the man's face and it digs under Neji's skin a little, how familiar the man looks and at the same time, doesn't. His own expression is stone. Polite. But stone. The gaze leaves the dandy with about as much interest as it had first graced him. The boy's baritone continues. "I have no interest in sharing my thoughts with you tonight, sir." Which. Really. Is about the best we could have hoped for.