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Summary
Clown doubles over and collapses suddenly, his scythe thuds on the soft grass and Clown himself follows suit, hitting against the ground. He makes no move to get up.
“Shit—! Clown, Clown, are you alright? Clown!” The white haired man very quickly pockets whatever he was holding and rushes down to where the jester lays. He taps Clown on the shoulder a few times, on his mask a few more, and sweat beads on Branzy’s face when he's met with a distinct lack of response.
Worriedly, Branzy takes his business partner’s scythe himself and moves to pick Clown up. He expects it to be tough, considering the fact that Clown is a killer who gets into fights and wins often, considering the fact that he knows Clown could overpower him instantly, considering the fact that he knows Clown. Branzy knows he's supposed to struggle when picking him up.
Yet when Branzy’s hands meet cloth and his knees raise to pick him up, he's only met with a single realization.
Clown is..light. Horrifying light.
or
clownpierce, his less than alright eating habits, and a very concerned branzycraft.