[ the awe and wonder of the circus coming to town is both lost and found to harry. he's heard of clowns - mostly because he has been called one, many times by rude union workers - but a whole circus of them? it's too much to not investigate. that's the lost part. what he finds is that clowns mildly terrify him. they are of course people under the painted faces and absurd clothing, but something about it crosses deep into the uncanny valley.

COMPOSURE [Formidable: Success] - You're managing to keep cool even while alert, but who knows what could set you off at any moment? Be cautious.

what distracts him, or at least gives him something else to think about, is the offer of cash for poster spreading. he wouldn't do it for free, but a hundred dollars is too good to pass up. a shame though - in all worlds, money is still the most important thing for a nervous simian to possess. at least this task is easy, if not a little tedious. his mind already begins to wander just a few posters in, huffing gently. then he notices someone else beside him, gets a thought, and grins. ]

Hey there, how many of these have you put up so far?

[ the clowns aren't going to stop unnerving him anytime soon, but the rest of this carnival is incredible. he's just doing his best to avoid looking at any of them, willing himself to not see and steel his nerves as he goes through the area. he can be found: ]

asbestos mike:

[ the performers are easier to tolerate to his visual senses, but watching mike juggle all those coals... he is completely fascinated. he stares more at the man's expression than the actual juggling, stunned. ]

Asbestos Mike... you're *so much* cooler than Contact Mike. [ he says it to himself, but then he cups his mouth and shouts: ] Asbestos Mike, you're the real deal! Juggle those fucking coals! God man, you're insane!

[ and from there he begins noisily cheering asbestos mike on through the routine, to the sour faces of everyone around him. if asbestos mike minds, he does not let it show on his face. he is in total control, which only makes harry want to break that composure - if only to know what will happen next.

for now he's only screaming a mix of praise and horror at the man, as people around him continue to glare. the attendants do nothing - this *is* a circus after all. ]

liar liar:

[ of all the games, this one makes him the most curious. hidden away from the other booths, the draw of obscurity and a bit of exclusivity. if you come here, you'll walk away with a story others may not have. he looks over it and picks up a bean bag that the carnie offers for him to feel. it's solid, filled up with what feels like sand. he wants to try it out, but is it any fun without someone to compete against? he backtracks from the stand and tries to find someone to pull in. whether you notice him first, or he tugs on your arm as you pass by, he will smile expectantly. ]

Hey, play this game with me in the back. [ a beat, then- ] It does not sound what you think it sounds like.

[ RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - Oh no, what are you even talking about? Why did you feel the need to clarify it like *that*? ]

[ where is she, where did she go? he saw her, he saw her, in that sequin disco outfit smiling like a cat who caught the canary, and now she's nowhere to be found. disappeared like the smoke she puffed as she took her drag and played with his emotions, turning him inside out against himself. or... or was that just him, and his brain with holes in it? he has to find her. he has to know why, why did she lie to him? why couldn't she trust him? what did he do wrong?

VOLITION - Stop! Just stop. She played you. You were warned and you let her off easy. It is what it is. You need to let it go. You're never going to find her. Please...

even so, the thought of not looking fills him with more dread. so he trudges through the circus, keeping an eye out for a blond woman in a sequin top and matching white khakis. he stops random passerby's if they've seen anyone matching the description to no avail. there's no way she could have gotten that far, right? right. he must be right.

then his legs give in, abnormally exhausted of extensive running, and falls to the ground on his knees. he can run across all of martinaise and back barely breaking a sweat, so why can't he run around this circus without his chest on fire? his hand reaches for his shirt, clutching hard, and he starts to pant and gasp for air.

ENDURANCE - Shit, shit, his heart is going into overdrive. It's not a heart attack, but it feels just the same. ]