3nanashi | (no subject)

Works for him.

Assuming the mats and the knife-targets don't interest her, they'll move on in a wide circle through the collection of trailers. Off to their right, between the circus's 'backstage' grounds and the parking lot, looms the big top with its stripes and awnings, and its collection of currently-empty vending stands.

They'll get there eventually. In the meantime, Trowa's heading slightly circuitously towards the animal cages, and idly keeping an eye out for a couple of people. But mostly, he's letting X look over the entire area, scenic and less so.

Mats and knife-targets -- more brightly painted than the ones she knows, but still -- are old hat.

The animal cages are much less so.

And X has recently come to believe in the value of curiosity.

Trowa does not think overmuch on curiosity. (That doesn't mean it's not a frequent factor in his life. Trowa's curiosity is patient, unhurried, and pretty comprehensive.)

The tent containing the cages is in sight, but still several yards away, when a grey-haired woman emerges from her trailer. She has a slight stoop to her shoulders (the only thing marring the upright carriage of an ex-acrobat), and the sort of face that tends to look stern no matter how the person is feeling.

Trowa pauses, waiting for her to spot him in turn.

He doesn't glance at X, because he doesn't need to.

X's attention is focused unerringly on the woman -- not that anyone could tell just by checking the direction of her gaze. Not at first, anyway.

But after a few moments she flicks a look between Trowa and the woman. And back again.

There are questions someone else might ask here.

X does not need to. The slight tilt to her head makes them very clear.

"Lawan Shinawatra," says Trowa -- conversationally, but pitched for X rather than for the lady in question. She's focused on them now, and is giving Trowa a look of habitually dubious inquiry. Mrs. Shinawatra does not truck with nonsense, and finds it best to make sure everyone remembers this by acting as if she always suspects some time-wasting afoot.

"She handles a lot of the routine administration. The box office is part of that."

Other people also take their turns there, but she rules it with an iron fist.

"Mrs. Shinawatra," he greets her when she's nearer, and takes a few steps closer.

Trowa is capable of politeness, when he wants to bother.

"I've got a friend in town for the day. Can I get two seats?"

X stays silent.

She is very good at it.

(And, stories about bodyguards aside, she is not 100% certain who Lawan Shinawatra expects to see. And until she does -- )

Mrs. Shinawatra rakes X with a glance -- it's no more dubious than anyone else gets -- and returns the same look to Trowa.

What she sees is someone who's clearly vouched for by Trowa. Private speculation or not, the circus is a tight-knit and insular community, and that's all any of its members will really ask.

"The usual ones, I suppose?" she asks, and Trowa nods. She sniffs. "All right. Names?"

"Duo Maxwell," Trowa says, and Mrs. Shinawatra nods in recognition. "And X."

X gets a slightly more dubious glance, when nothing more is forthcoming.

X meets that dubious look with one of her own.

Though her own dubiousness quickly fades back to blank.

But after a second --

"Thank you."

It is only polite.

Well, okay says Mrs. Shinawatra's face.

The circus is full of eccentrics. Trowa Barton is one of them. (So, in different ways, is Lawan Shinawatra.) If his friends are too, it's no skin off her nose.

"X it is. Sure."

She jerks a slight nod to Trowa -- it might be acknowledgment, goodbye, or just a reminder that pre-show time is wasting -- and heads off towards the big top.

She has grandchildren to supervise, thank you.

X shoots Trowa a quick sideways glance, as if to check that no missteps were made.

It does not feel like there were, but --

He would know best.

Nope, that went fine.

Trowa communicates this by making no expression whatsoever. (Okay, Trowa communicates this by returning the glance with placid impassivity, and no more tension than he had a minute ago.)

"I'll show you where to pick them up."

Meanwhile: shall they continue?

"Okay," X says, nodding once.

And then she continues in the same direction they were going before Lawan showed up.

There's not a lot of breeze today -- like most weather in the colonies, this is determined mostly by prearrangement -- but all the same, she may catch a whiff of big cat coming from the tent up ahead.

X could hardly miss it.

Breeze or not, scent travels.

She flicks a quick look in the direction of said tent, then looks back at Trowa.

That is where they are going?

Trowa nods fractionally.

Unless she doesn't want to, of course.

X offers a minute shrug in response.

And, of course, adjusts her angle of approach accordingly.

Someone here is an easy sell.

Well. They're lions.

Trowa's attitude there might not be universally shared, of course.

He leads the way into the tent. It's medium-sized but sturdy, the kind that's more a canvas-sided building than anything. It contains three cages -- all on wheels, but braced securely into place right now -- and a fourth that's much larger and flat to the ground. There are doors at either end of the cages, all latched, and another opening across the tent. (It leads to the large practice and exercise enclosure.)

Three of the cages contain adult lions -- two male, one female. The fourth and largest cage is currently empty except for straw and some rather battered toys and a sort of mock-cave shelter, but it held all three lions not all that long ago.

X flicks a quizzical glance from the largest cage to the small ones, then over to Trowa.

It's the kind of look that serves as a polite request for an explanation.

Lion-keeping is outside her usual performance parameters.

Or it has been thus far, anyway.

"For transport backstage. It's easier to do it separately, and they have different entrances and exits."

"Most of the time they're there." The big cage. "Or out in the enclosure."

It's not particularly unusual for Trowa to come hang out with the lions pre-show, though he doesn't do it every day. So they don't seem particularly roused by his arrival, though they're certainly paying attention to him and X.

(The older male is doing so somewhat drowsily, and without standing up. He was just napping, and he hasn't bothered to do more than lift his head from his paws.)

X tilts her head very slightly, studying Trowa this time.

Just for a second.

"They do not fight?"

Trowa shakes his head fractionally. "Lions are social. Not like most big cats. They argue a little, but they mostly get along."

X blinks.

Twice.

"But they do not talk."

Sometimes confirmation is nice to have.

Just in case.

Trowa shakes his head.

"Not like humans."

They communicate fine.

X considers this.

Carefully.

"You talk to them?"

Trowa shrugs.

"Sometimes."

"The words don't matter. But they listen to tone of voice."

You are sure you are not a mutant?, X asked him once, and Trowa remembers her perspective on this. But as far as he's concerned, this is just a matter of knowing how to listen, and how to see, and how to monitor your own movements. If you understand how an animal thinks, you'll know how to make yourself understood; it's the same as humans, except that animals don't lie.