walking into the back of the theatre at the fair in the open desert you expected peace, but apparently so did someone else.

messing with a cuckoo-clock embeded into his chest, a redhead muttered nothings, untill noticing you fully, he tried to not sound rude as he struggled to insert and spin the key into it, as the engine smoked a tad

"i am not a part of the fair's spectacle.."