[Silent & MissCapnCrunch Collab]
With her fingertips grasping the edge of her plate Priscilla watched the puppeteer perform his magnificent show. The plate she held was filled to the brim with her beloved funnel cake, drizzled with powdered sugar, and enough sweetness to give even the most enthusiastic child a tummy ache. The funnel cake was a bit too hot yet to dig into with bare fingers, so Cici waited patiently until she could dig into her breakfast/lunch combo. Her dark eyes panned back and forth between the dolls on the stage, it was quite impressive how smooth the actions were, as if they had been practicing for hundreds of years.
As the show wrapped up, Cici used her lips to show her appreciation giving a loud whistle towards the performer. She would have given a huge round of applause but her hands were full after all. Almost as quickly as the audience came, they began to disperse to the other tents. Mostly children and the rude teenager alike pushed and prodded at Priscilla as she tried to leave the area herself. It was then misfortune arrived as the funnel cake tilted and teetered right onto the pant leg of Andre himself. Looking from her plate, to Andre's pants, and then up to his soft face, Priscilla's mouth parted in to a mix between a snarl and shock. "Hey, what's the big deal here!?" she yelled, reaching down and grabbing the burning hot funnel cake to only let it fling out of her hands and smack against Andre's chest and roll down back onto the ground beneath them. "Ow!" she exclaimed, looking at the pile of dough mixed in with dirt next to the man. "I hope you plan on purchasing me a new one." Cici stated half sarcastically, but mostly saddened by her loss. She brought her fingers to her mouth rapidly blowing cold air against them.
It had been another good show. Much of the crowd had heard of the earlier show and went with high expectations. They were not disappointed in the least. They had been a good bunch, enthusiastic, laughing at all the right moments. All in all it had been a good enough show for André to almost forget his earlier transgression with Tanner. Almost. “Adieu! Monsieur, Madame!” The puppeteer called as the audience left just as eagerly as they’d come. This group seemed particularly inclined to push and shove. In order to help prevent anyone getting hurt, André slipped down from the stage and encouraged people toward the exit. That was when the misfortune struck.
He felt it before he even knew what had happened. The uncomfortable burning sensation on his right leg. A quick glance down and the puppet master could see a steaming funnel cake smeared on his trousers. André looked at the woman whose lap it had been on during the show and notice she was looking at him. Normally, he would’ve expected an apology of some kind already, but instead this woman offered a rather forceful response. She somehow seemed to think it was his fault he was covered in her sugary pastry. This situation wasn’t the least bit ideal for him either. “M—” His words were cut short as the woman once again flung her food at him. At André to tell off her less-than-etiquette behaviour. Yet, when he saw how genuinely disappointed she looked, he decided to let it pass. Mostly. “Mademoiselle, it is my clothes which need to be renewed.” He said, gently. “Alas, should you like, I’ve mind to get you another.” He paused a moment, “Firstly I should be changing my attire.” This was said more to himself than to the woman.
"Hmm." Cici pondered, her fingers dropping to her side as the heat had dispersed. In agreement with Andre, Cici noted that his clothes were messy. Cici however, had no intention of paying him for anything new. It was hard enough to purchase clothes for herself, let alone a stranger who had spilt her funnel cake. "Well, I'll only let you buy me a new one if you join me in eating it." she offered a warm smile to him, before speaking once more, "Also, if you send me in the right direction to the woman that runs this place after we're done." Priscilla then gave Andre the napkins she had taken from the food booth in hopes that he could get some of the mess off himself. "Don't worry," she started, "It's not to report you or anything." she laughed, throwing her dark curls back behind her shoulder. "I'd actually like to get a job here." she commented, her eyes looking up and down the man as she explained to him vaguely her situation.
André was glad to see the girl appeared to hold no grudge. “I’d be delighted to join you, my dear.” Her smile was returned by him, albeit smaller. “Might one inquire as to what your name is?”
“Thank you.” He said as he took the napkins and used them to try and clean off his shirt. The dark spot was standing out immensely, especially with the sticky syrup giving it a colour against the grey. André had no intention of going out into the masses looking like that. Switching to another shirt briefly wouldn’t take too long.
“You wish to see Madame Sombre?” The puppeteer said words clinging to the slightest of suspicion. When she said she wished to join the Cirque de Noir André shifted his eyes away. He knew she didn’t understand the full implication of what that meant, and he decided he would not be the one to inform her. A part of him very much wished she would go elsewhere, though. “What act is Mademoiselle in?” After her reply he gave a quick “Pardonne-moi” before heading back into his smaller adjoined tent. He had planned to go into the room and quickly change. However, it only took a glance at the thick black cracks edged into Henri’s head for André to be reminded of his other obligation. Finally, André decided he would first go with Priscilla to replace her lost food and then head over to Annaliese. Henri already felt dead inside. It seemed the kinder to wait until André had full time to repair him before tending to him. And with a sorrowful sigh the man left the room.
André returned, garbed in a clean shirt. He had Marie take centre stage and hold the sign, just in case someone decided to enter the tent, and then left the tent along with Priscilla, closing the tent flap on his way out. It wasn’t until the two were at the place which sold sugary delights that André picked up an earlier part of their conversation, actually answering her question. “Madame Sombre might be in her tent, yet one might never be sure. It may be best to seek after the shows have finished. In the meantime, my dear, I’ve another obligation to attend.” At that the puppeteer started in the direction of Annaliese’s tent. “I’d suggest you come to watch a fantastical illusionist in performance, if you’ve yet to see her.”