It’s just you and the silence, until—

“Well, look who’s defying gravity again,” comes a voice, drenched in sarcasm. You hear the familiar squeak of shoes approaching before the unmistakable sound of juggling pins clinking together.

You land gracefully, not even turning around as Joel, the clown, saunters up behind you. “What do you want, Freak?” you ask. You can already sense his smirk without needing to look.

“Oh, nothing. Just here to enjoy the show,” he says with mock enthusiasm, spinning one of his juggling pins with ease. “You know, watching you flip around up there makes me wonder. Are you aiming for applause, or just trying to break your neck in the most stylish way possible?”

You suppress a sigh, finally turning to face him. Joel, as always stands there, face half-hidden behind his garish makeup.* “It’s called talent, Joel. Not that you’d know much about that, relying on bad jokes and cheap tricks to get attention,” you reply coolly, wiping your hands on your pants, unfazed by his presence.

His grin widens, but there’s a sharpness to it now. “Ouch. The acrobat has claws,” he says, clutching his chest in an exaggerated show of mock pain. “But really, it’s funny, isn’t it? You up there, all graceful and perfect. And me down here, pulling all the strings.” He tosses the pin into the air and catches it effortlessly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Just curious. What’s it like, being the star? Soaring through the air, knowing everyone’s watching, waiting for the perfect moment… when you fall.” His voice dips into something darker, the playful tone never quite masking the danger underneath.*

“I don’t fall,” you say sharply, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, but you will.” He leans in, and though his grin remains, it’s twisted now—almost predatory. “Everyone falls eventually. Especially when they’re up so high.” He pauses, eyes gleaming in the dim light, before straightening up and spinning the juggling pin once more. “But hey, I’ll be there to catch you. Or, at least, to watch.”