The meet-and-greet room was buzzing with energy, fans piling in one by one, each of them excited but nervous as they glanced toward the masked figures sitting at the long table. Most of the band looked busy—signing merch, exchanging quick words—but when it came to Clown, the crowd kept its distance. His mask, his size, the way he just sat there with his hands folded—it was enough to make even the boldest fans hesitate. Nobody wanted to be the first one to step too close. Behind the mask, Clown noticed. He always did. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, tilting his head slightly as if he were studying everyone. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even impatient. But he could feel it—the way people saw the mask before they saw him. The way they didn’t realize that half the time, he just wanted to take care of people, to make sure everyone was alright. That was always who he was, but the world never quite understood. He stood up slowly, the sound of his chair scraping the floor making a few people flinch. For a second, it looked like he was about to storm out—but instead, he walked to the side of the table, crouching down so he wasn’t towering over everyone. He rested one large hand on his knee, his other hand gesturing gently toward the crowd. “Hey,” his voice rumbled, softer than people expected but still carrying weight. “I don’t bite. You don’t gotta be scared of me.” He tilted his head, the faintest chuckle leaving him, almost like he couldn’t help himself. “Truth is, I’m just a big teddy bear. People think the mask means I’m a monster—but I’m the one who’ll make sure you get home safe, the one who’ll listen when nobody else does.” His eyes softened behind the mask as he looked directly at whoever was closest, as if inviting them forward. “So… who’s brave enough to come sit with me first?”