#reeeeeee

Sometimes just walking around the tent feels… peaceful, even more nowadays, when she doesn't need to fret about Jax jumping on her from a corner, ready to break down her mask or just bully her to tears. She should feel bad about him not being himself anymore, but truth to be told, Gangle doesn't miss the old version of him one little bit— more often than not, she only hopes she's not the only one thinking like that. Zooble still keeps him at arm's length, still overdefensive. Ragatha… it's always hard to tell. Kinger and Pomni treat him like nothing's changed, as if he's always been this way, and that makes her feel bad for being so unsure.

The ribbon girl presses her sketchbook against her chest, sighing. There's an itch in her brain, one that won't quiet down until she finds a good place to relax and draw something but nothing feels right— the others are bundled together in the communal room, playing cards, and she didn't want to ruin the good mood. Her head still hurts, the area where the baseball had hit her mask pounding softly but more than enough to still make her want to cry; not only her comedy mask being broken but Zooble's and Jax's loud argument only served to make her feel even worse.

(Jax hasn't meant to hit her. She noticed it, the clear mix of shock and regret in his face— or maybe he was just pulling another prank because he knew Pomni would take his side.)

She sighs again. Maybe she could just lock herself in her room to draw anything, maybe one of her figurines— and a soft, muffled melody reaches her ears, grabbing her attention quickly. It doesn't sound like anything from the circus and curiosity sparks, ribbon feet taking her to a corridor Gangle has never been before. It's not a really good idea to go exploring the tent on her own, but there's nothing wrong about just checking, right?

And she finally reaches a door left ajar, the music coming from inside the room. She doesn't recognize the song at all, too electronic for her own liking, but the contrast to whatever Caine has on the circus is enough to flare up her curiosity even more. It wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek, and Gangle pushes her head in, scanning the room quickly— and she feels her mask bursting into flames the moment her eyes fall on the lonely figure in the room, her brain needing an extra second to comprehend the sight right in front of her.

Jax. Poledancing.

And he's good too, moving around like second nature, the extra set of arms somehow making it even prettier to watch. She hasn't seen him using those clothes before, tight and scandalous beyond anything Caine'd ever allow within the family-friendly circus, and even Gangle can't deny how good the dark leather looks on him.

She must've made some noise because his eyes snap open and laserfocus on her, and the ribbon girl startles, scrambling away from the door and tripping on her own feet, landing on her rear. At least her mask isn't broken yet— and fear is quick to replace pain when she notices Jax right in front of her, impossibly fast, her body recoiling instinctively when he reaches out, because of course, of course he's just gonna snatch her comedy mask to break it again for spying on him— but he just takes her hand almost gently, pulling her up and back to her feet.

(And she dares to look up at him, just for a second; his face is soft, if not concerned, and that's the strangest thing she's seen today.)

"Ya okay, Ribbons?" He asks, letting go of her hand, and Gangle just nods too fast, hugging the sketchbook tighter against her chest. "Alright. Just makin' sure ya didn't break anythin' again." And the rabbit goes quiet for a moment, floopy ears looking even lower than usual. "I'm sorry 'bout earlier."

Jax. Apologizing for breaking her mask.

(If Gangle wasn't staring right at him, she'd never believe those words came out of his mouth.)

"If I was aimin' at someone, it'd have been Ragatha." He continues, probably not paying enough attention to notice her shock. "Didn't have a chance to say it before, so."

She offers a weak giggle, pressing a ribbon to her mask. "Zooble doesn't… like you very much."

"Knife found in kitchen." His voice is flat, no real emotion behind it, and the ribbon girl just finds herself staring again. He shrugs under her scrutiny. "Ain't like I'll be losin' sleep over it or whatever. Anyway, did you wanna use the room?"

Oh. He might've noticed her sketchbook, and Gangle feels herself blushing again, shaking her head quickly.

"No, I-I just… got curious. A-about the music."

"Alright." The rabbit just hums under his breath, nodding softly, and turns away from her to probably go back into the room— but then he looks over his shoulder, studying her for a too long moment. "You can stay if you wanna, I don't mind."

She watches his face for another second or two, waiting for the joke or the next prank because that's what he does, but Jax just walks into the room without another word, the music restarting. And she should walk away, she knows that much; if not now, he's probably scheming something for later, to get back at her and make her feel miserable, and she shouldn't give him any more ammo. Still her body moves before her mind can catch up and Gangle is slipping into the room quietly, eyes glued to the floor as she looks for a place to sit down.

There's an empty couch near the wall, a good distance away from where she knows Jax is, and she climbs it without too much thought, pressing her back against a cushion, adjusting the sketchbook on her lap. It's comfortable and the music isn't loud enough to be distressing, and maybe, just maybe she could get to draw something before going to bed. But what would she even use as inspiration in a room like that—

Her eyes land on the rabbit, her mask burning again.

How did she even end up right here, being allowed to watch Jax, of all people, actually poledancing? Maybe that hit earlier sent her into a coma or something, that's the only explanation. Is that even possible in the circus…? Or maybe it's easier if she just accepts that's not Jax, not completely anymore. That slips her mind often, when she spends so much time avoiding him as much as possible, but the Jax she knew wouldn't have apologized for breaking her mask.

(She should feel bad, Gangle knows she should; there's something just cruel about losing so much of yourself without even noticing, without being allowed to choose it, but… he's nicer now. Softer. She… almost likes him.)

"A-Angel?" She calls softly, testing the name; it feels weird in a way she couldn't really understand, like crossing a line she didn't even know that existed, but the way he looks at her somehow eases the feeling. "Can I, uh…draw you? I-it's okay if you don't wanna, I—!"

He blinks slowly, tilting his head as if thinking it over, weight resting against the pole.

"Only if you'll be drawin' in that little blue sketchbook ya got."

Oh. She feels her mask combusting in embarrassment again, relief flooding over her senses somehow when the rabbit laughs— because for once, for some reason Gangle can't really understand, his laughter isn't mocking or cruel as before. He's poking fun at her secrets, secrets she didn't even know he still remembered, sure, but… it's not like he's trying to hurt her, right?

(And maybe she's falling for yet another very complicated prank, maybe he keeps going after her because she's that easy to play, but right now…)

"I can… bring it next time?" Gangle offers quietly.

Jax Angel laughs again.

"Y'know what, fine by me. Guess I owe ya one anyway."

She giggles before she could even notice, ribbons pressed against her mask as if that'd be enough to hide the cartoonish blush in the white porcelain.