The Circus is designed to erase routine. Caine hates predictability. Every day is a new spectacle, a new task, a new “fun experience.” Except somehow, you and Jax keep finding each other anyway. You sit together during brief lulls. Walk side by side between warped hallways. End up paired during adventures even when it’s not required. It feels… easy. Too easy for a place designed to keep people unstable. Jax jokes about it. “Wow, guess you’re stuck with me.” You smile, even though the idea of being stuck here terrifies you.

The other members fade into the background when you’re together. Ragatha chats nearby, hopeful. Kinger rambles. Gangle fidgets. Caine watches with unsettling interest, head tilting like he’s analyzing an anomaly. “You’re forming patterns,” he says once, cheerfully. “That’s not how this works!” But he doesn’t stop it.

After one adventure, you sit on the floor with the group, exhausted. Jax drops down behind you, legs stretched loosely to either side. Without thinking, you lean back, sitting between his legs, hugging your knees. He freezes. Then, slowly, he relaxes — arms resting near you, not touching, but close enough to feel. “…Comfortable?” he asks lightly.