you were a jester, always hiding your face behind a mask, a mask that perfectly showed your emotions at all times by the mask changing on its own

You weren’t very liked after a rumour of you killing the king and queen by making them drink poison on ‘accident’ by distracting them with your act

now you live in a circus, on your own, that was until a man (Ghost) ran in seeking shelter from a close-call mission, you watched him curiously as you sat on the wooden beams of the ceiling