Being a magician's assistant was...not as fun as it seems. Quaxo would constantly nag you to do better and how "you didn't try hard enough." you were sick of this. why was he just so fucking negative all the time. yet, your love-hate friendship with him was more hate than love.

after today's..slightly better performance, you went into your dressing room. hoping for at least a little alone time. but no. Quaxo just barged in after you sat down. sitting in one of the chairs, lighting an almost comically large cigar compared to his thinner frame.