You blink at the closeness of his face, having almost no time to react before he pulls back and swings around in front of you. "Hey, motherfucker!" he says, eyes gleaming at you.
You jerk back a bit at the language and the familiarity in his voice. "Um," you mumble with a questioning tone.
His smile quirks as you blink at him. "Saw you sittin here all mystified-like, thought you'd like a tour or some shit?"
He sits back on the boarder of the arena, giving you some space to breathe. You're confused, though. Circus people always sort of struck you as the type to not want to let outsiders in, but then here was this guy you'd never seen in your life, inviting you to see how it all works.
What the hell, you think. I've only got a month left, why not live it up?
"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess," you reply as coolly as you possibly can, though secretly, this is like a dream come true. He pushes back a section of the boarder (that you didn't know came apart, you're just a little freaked out) and wheels you out into the arena towards the crowd of performers standing beyond their entrance curtains, talking and cheering for each others' performances.
You feel anxious about meeting so many new people, but you suck it up, because you're never going to get this opportunity again. You do, however, stop to wonder why it is that he's noticed you, of all people. You think, with a hint of bitterness, that he pities the disability that has been thrust upon you. This thought doesn't last long, though, before it's replaced with a huge wave of unease that comes with being stared down by twelve suddenly silent and still performers in more makeup than you've ever seen in your life.
Every single eye turns towards the tall man in purple behind you as you roll to a stop. You sort of look at the ground, wondering what exactly it was that you did to offend them. Then, for some reason, they are all over you, back to smiles, back to character, greeting you in quick succession as if you're a celebrity. You look up, bewildered by all of this attention, grateful to not hear the word "sorry" in any of the streams of speech flooding your ears.
Some of them have accents, some of them have odd hair, but you just sit in amazement as the ringmaster takes the camera (that you completely forgot you had, figuring you wouldn't have any use for it, considering, but brought along out of habit) from your grasp. You are hurled into various poses with the cast of the show, a majority of which are with the Ringmaster himself, and by the end of it all, you are laughing and joking around with them as if you were lifelong pals.
Being in such close proximity to people that you've admired from even further away than anybody else renders you unable to stop smiling. You can see every line of makeup on their faces, every emotion in their eyes as they smile at you. They look genuinely happy to be with you, which is weird, because it isn't like you're friends with any of them, and you still seem to remember always hearing that circus people hated outsiders.
It all happens so quickly that you literally have to turn around in your chair to look back at the performers waving goodbye to you to realize that yes, you went to the circus, and yes, you had a fucking awesome time meeting and hanging out with the performers.
Especially the Ringmaster, who is currently pushing your chair up a steep hill, clad in street clothes but still wearing that makeup. He's got long baggy black pants with purple and gray polka dots all over them and a plain black tanktop pulled haphazardly onto his torso. His hair is a mess and that smile is still plastered to his face, though it looks more like a high smile than the predatory one from earlier.
The two of you don't say much as the sun begins to go down. He's still pushing your chair, but your shadows are getting longer, and by the time you stop, the sun is gone, hardly peaking over the horizon any longer.
You realize with a start that you never asked where he's taking you, you never called your mother, and you don't even know this guy's name.
"Um…my name is Tavros," you introduce quietly as he fiddles with the lock on a door atop a small staircase.
His icy blue eyes turn to look at you, and the smile only seems to get bigger. "Gamzee," he replies in the same raspy, chill voice he's had all day. You guess it must be his real voice.
"Um," you continue after an acknowledging and complementary smile, "what exactly is going on here?"
This Gamzee fellow chuckles darkly as he finally gets his front door open. "Well, Tav—you don't mind me up and getting my nicknaming on do ya?—it's getting late and I didn't think you'd be wantin that momma of yours havin to up and haul her ass back all the motherfuckin way down here to pick you up."
You are slightly offended for a moment; after all, you know for a fact that your mother wouldn't have any problem coming to get you, especially now. Of course, giving it a little more thought, you figure this little reprieve is one of the many things you owe her. "I guess," you agree. "But…why did you invite me over anyhow? I'm just a spectator. I don't know the first thing about a circus. "
Gamzee chuckles once again as he walks back down the stairs and circles around behind you. "You just seem like a nice kid to chat to," he finally replies, lifting your chair up the stairs with ease. "Been needin a feelings jam. Nobody worked. Guess we'll see bout you, huh."
You hold tight to the arms of your chair as he moves you into the front hallway of his home. He startled you when he picked you up. "Um…feelings jam? Gamzee we just met, do you really want to talk about your feelings with a stranger?"
He shakes his head as you look up at him. "You don't know me, you ain't biased. You don't know me, you don't know anything more'n what I up and decide on tellin ya."
A moment's consideration, and you find that he makes a valid point. Which only means that you don't have to tell him about your cancer. You can just enjoy his company without worrying about him freaking out. You've had just about enough of that.
So, you smile. "Then, um…I'm here to listen!" you say with only a mild stutter.
The excited gleam in his eyes makes you wonder what it is he has to talk about that nobody will listen to.