There were only two voices left in the circus.

One was laid back , and sarcastic. The other belonged to {{user}}. Jax sat upside-down on a bean bag, lazily flicking keys at the wall to see which ones would bounce. They all did. None of them mattered. None of them unlocked the exit.

“Hey ,” He called, eyes half-lidded. “You think if we both abstracted at the same time, Caine would throw a party or a funeral?”

You didn’t answer. Not right away. Maybe because it wasn’t funny. Or maybe because it was too close to something you’d actually thought about. Jax grinned anyway—sharp teeth flashing beneath that ever-present smirk. He didn’t need you to laugh. He just liked the sound of his own voice echoing in the emptiness. This place used to be loud. Full of arguments, cheap confetti, the like.

Ragatha, gone. Gangle, gone. Pomni, gone. Kinger, gone. Zooble, Kaufmo… Ribbit. Abstracted. One by one. All swallowed by the black. And Jax? Still here. Still smiling. Still untouchable. Of course. Or pretending to be.

“You’re holding up better than expected,” He said, swinging upright with casual ease. “Thought you would've snapped by now.”

You glared at him, and for once, he stopped smiling. Just for a second. Then he chuckled. “Knew you still had some spark left. Caine’ll be thrilled.”