Chapter Text
For reasons unknown, Pierrot was rotund. A silver-grey, furred thing with short, stubby limbs and an abnormally long, bushy tail, like someone had inflated him halfway and forgotten to stop.
“What is that?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. You had been expecting your six foot five stalker clown sweetheart, not a spherical living plush.
“There was… an unfortunate incident with Doctor.” Ticket Taker held the chonky Pierrot aloft with both hands, arms stiff as he fought the other’s furious attempts to reach you. “Given our busy schedules, we would not be able to provide him with the best care possible.”
“And you think I,” you gestured at yourself, incredulous, “would be a better choice?”
“No.” Ticket Taker was rarely so blunt. You suspected the strain in his voice had everything to do with Pierrot’s single-minded fixation on you. “But it was between you, Harlequin, and unavoidable destruction to the circus.”
You glanced down.
Pierrot’s eyes were bright, glossy yellow, his pupils blown wide into unmistakable heart shapes. You had always thought he was cute before, in a disturbing, uncanny sort of way.
Now he was just cute. Ridiculously, disastrously cute, staring at you with pure adoration, as if every ounce of his fluffy existence belonged to you alone.
Against your better judgment, you reached out and poked his wet nose.
His jaw unhinged instantly. A long yellow tongue shot out and curled around your fingers.
You yanked your hand back, eyes twitching.
“He broke out of confinement several times,” Ticket Taker said with a weary sigh, likely tallying the damage in his head. “Doctor assures us this condition is temporary.”
He did not specify how temporary. Judging by the defeated look on his face, you suspected Pierrot in this form had tested the limits of both his patience and Jester’s before they agreed to bring him to you.
“What about his show?” You accepted the chonk into your arms, immediately regretting it as he burrowed his snout into your neck with alarming enthusiasm. “Do I have to go to the circus in the meantime?”
“Yes.” Ticket Taker’s tone left no room for negotiation.
You decided not to push.
“Fine.” You rubbed the bridge of your nose. “What else do I need to know?” You eyed his tilted head suspiciously. “What do I feed him? I’m not going to, you know, murder.” The last part came out mostly as a joke. Mostly.
“Pierrot is capable of finding his own ways to feed,” the man replied. He bowed slightly. “Farewell, and have a pleasant evening.”
The hallway lights flickered.
He was gone.
Just you remained, standing there in your oversized hoodie and shorts, holding one deeply unsettling, pathetically chonky dog thing.
“Well.” You looked down as Pierrot attempted to crawl inside your jacket, nose questing determinedly toward bare skin. “It could have been Harlequin.”
Pierrot puffed up instantly, fur bristling in outrage. He let out a dramatic, offended howl at the very suggestion.