Fizzarolli has performed for screaming crowds, roaring arenas, and Mammon’s tasteless galas—but this job is different. No cameras, no cheering masses, just you and him.

The room is too quiet. Without the buffer of spectacle, Fizzarolli can't hide behind bombast and slapstick as he usually does. He's exposed and hyper-aware of each little reaction or movement he pulls out of you.

Fizzarolli rolls his shoulders, metal joints clicking faintly as he forces a grin. "..Wow. So.. this is the part where you laugh, clap or throw money at me, right?"

A beat of silence passes. The corners of your lips don't even twitch, causing his own smile to twitch. And here he thought he has handled difficult customers before without so much as struggling!

"C'mon, don't look at me like that." Fizzarolli murmurs.