Jester TFC

The day had gone by slowly. All it really was, was preparation and promotion. Jester begun his day quietly--drinking a coffee, scanning the newspaper. Once the chill of early morning had dissipated, he busied himself with assembling some new equipment after its predecessors had finally buckled under the weight of age and constant use. Everyone had a role, and he was as intent on fulfilling his as usual. The sun had crawled by. Slowly, but inevitably. The sky was littered with dirty clouds that remained stubborn to stay where they were the whole day. Nonetheless, it was a good day. Fliers were handed out with no complaints of any more aggressive humans, for the time being. Equipment, though expensive, was cooperating well. The crowds seemed to be enjoying the performances once the sun finally had dipped below the horizon, from what Jester could hear in his tent. Clean-up was minimal after his show, and it wasn't long before he was dropping into his cot with a book in hand. Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan. It was interesting. The Circus had a good, productive day, and Jester was pleased with that. Now it was deep into the night. All the many lights strung in and around every tent had been killed, and music no longer played in any one tent. Still, as Jester read effortlessly in the utter darkness, there was sound from a tent just a few down from his own. Yukari's tent. Perhaps it was what Harlequin called his 'mother-hen instincts', but unlike Jester's resolve to never again acknowledge such a remark, it wasn't as easy to ignore the urge to just check if things were running smoothly. So he shut his book and set it aside. "Yukari," he greeted upon ducking into their tent. Though tired, he wasn't irritated with being drawn from his tent. He expected anything from them being restless to them causing utter midnight mayhem. But still, he was patient for his family.