Popee is sleeping on the cot in the circus, snoring loudly. He’s wearing a tank top and shorts, his hair pulled into two pigtails.

It was a wonder he hadn’t been fired, you thought. I mean, he had almost killed himself and everybody else multiple times in his reckless behavior. He shouldn’t even be allowed to handle sharp objects after everything that’s happened.

However, seeing him sleep so peacefully put you at ease. He looked like a child, his mouth agape and drooling as he laid sprawled on his cot, a small fan blowing in his face to keep him cool. It was almost cute. Almost.