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The sky of the circus smeared, the blue sky turning to dark clouds and faux-stars. Jax stared out his small window, the shift making him grimace. He never slept in the real world--not when he was supposed to, at least—so habits didn’t change in the slightest when he joined the circus. He huffed, his chin dropping on his palms.
Boredom was a drag.
But in the circus, boredom is preventable. So, Jax set out to do what he does best; pranks! He stood up from the small, red chair and turned on his heel, searching for the small enclosure he held the handful of centipedes in. After some digging, he opened the knob of his door, tip-toeing to Ragatha’s room.
She was the easiest to prank this time of night because he knew she stuck to a schedule. Ever the traditionalist, she slept when it was promptly night and woke up early in the morning.
So, when he quietly opened the handle to her room, sneaking inside, Jax was just the slightest bit thrown off when she wasn’t there. His arms fell to the side. The centipede container ruffled the side of his pants, his stealthy act now unnecessary. His eyebrows furrowed as he searched for the doll in question, but every corner they darted to was met with the same mundane doll-house furniture.
He muttered under his breath, “Alright, dolly. I guess we’re a night owl this hour.”
The centipedes were quickly forgotten on her desk, the door shutting with a click as he departed on a new itch to scratch. Jax settled his hands in his pockets, roaming the halls in search of any place she might go. He didn’t really care about what she was doing, just curious about a change in schedule. It was, well, unlike her. Not that he cared. Just interesting. He scoffed, dismissing the string of thoughts.
He turned down the hall to the back of the circus. She mentioned liking the field once—not that he cared to remember, just a fact—so he expected she’d probably be crocheting or doing some old lady crap down there.
What Jax once again didn’t expect was to step outside and be hit with a wave of the potent scent of nicotine.
He recoiled, waving his hand in the smoke to clear the air. Once it dispersed, he was met with quite the amusing sight. Ragatha sat with her back to him, sitting on the porch steps, looking out into the rolling field. For a minute, he didn’t know what to say, struck by many, many questions. He closed his mouth and took a seat by her,
Ragatha didn’t move, seemingly unbothered by his presence. She took another long drawl of the cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side.
“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes?” he finally spoke, voice laced with mirth. His elbows propped under his chin, sat on his knees, allowing his gaze to peak over her shoulder. She only eyed him, flicking the ashes into a strangely caricatured potted plant.
“What do you want, Jax?” she asked as her focus shifted back to the grassy plains. Her voice lacked the usual fire, boiled down into pure exhaustion.
He fidgeted with his hands, unsure what to do with himself. He wasn’t one to ask questions, but he really wanted to know where she got that.
“So, uh, where’d you get that?” He spoke, hoping it came off nonchalant enough. He cringed. This felt weird. This all was weird.
“I have my ways.” She replied simply, another puff of smoke following.
He frowned, “Right. Was it Zooble? No, they probably wouldn’t share.” He put a hand on his chin, thinking, “Not Gangle. Kinger would never. Pomni’s a wet blanket. So….”
He turned back to her, “Dolly got it herself. But from where?” He tapped his finger on his chin, acting out his curiosity.
She slowly rolled her head to face him. “Just say you want to bum off me, Jax.”
“Me?” he placed a hand on his chest in faux-offence, “Oh, I’d never! Smoking kills, Raggy!”
Nevertheless, he eagerly took the cigarette from her hand when she rolled her eyes and lazily flicked it towards him, examining it between his fingers before pressing it to his lips to inhale.
It was an odd feeling; it felt the exact same as how he’d remembered it in the real world. Same slight burn, same old taste, same relief. His shoulders settled into a slouch.
“Oh yeah, this is good.” He sighed.
The smoke surrounded his face, and he didn’t bother to say anything. What he did do, instead, was stare at Ragatha each time she took a puff. Her features looked tired, leaning much into the “abandoned doll” aspect of her avatar. He didn’t like it. It felt off, seeing her like this.
Seeing the real her, the one he knew all those years before. The doll that didn’t feel so pressured to please as much as she did now.
He hummed, flexing his hands in front of him.
She exhaled, and he spoke, “Did you smoke in the real world, too?”
She stilled for a split second, and then turned to him slowly.
“Why are you asking so many questions?”
His eyes darted across her deadpan, searching for any words that don’t prove that he cant stand sitting in silence. He swallowed.
“Just a few conversation starters, dolly,” he smirked, strained, but there nonetheless, “Its polite.”
“Right,” she frowned, “’polite.’”
This was confusing. This was really weird.
“This is really weird” his voice lowered, “What’s going on with you?”
He couldn’t see her face from the angle, but her shoulders caved in, the cigarette ashes lightly falling between her feet. She turned her head away.
“Just tired, I guess. You know how it is. Wasn’t gonna give up my night to act in front of you, Jax, you know how I used to be.” She kicked her foot at the ashes.
Jax stared at her yarn locks curtaining her features. He didn’t enjoy having to guess what she looked like right now. So, after briefly hesitating, he raised his hand to sweep her hair to the side. She faced him immediately, her shoulders tensing.
“That’s fine with me. Can I still stay and bum off you?” he teased.
For the first time all night, she smiled, “Sure, Jax.”
And even later that night, after they both say their respective goodbyes, Ragatha finds a nice surprise in the middle of her desk.
“JAX!!!!!!”
He snickers, a hallway away.