3nanashi | (no subject)

Trowa doesn't shrug, mostly because he doesn't need to.

It's a different challenge to maintain your balance with another variable added. That's all.

If she wants to try a flip again, or to stay on the wire while he does, they can do that. (This is communicated by infinitesimal shifts of the head and eyes. Friendship with Cass and X has not helped Trowa's tendency to neglect to use his words.) Otherwise, it's pretty much more of the same until she wants to move on.

He figures that there's no real reason to branch out into double tricks. Especially since that's harder to teach solo, and there's no performance goal for it.

There's a momentary flicker in the set of X's body as she thinks over the offer.

Then she tilts her chin at Trowa. Fractionally.

He can go first. So she will know what to compensate for.

Better than she does now, anyway.

He can do that.

He keeps it simple -- just one flip, not too high, and the landing as light as he can make it -- and sets himself more deliberately than usual before he jumps, to telegraph it clearly.

It's still going to shake the tightrope some, of course.

X wobbles left, wobbles right --

And fails to fall off the line.

The slight frown line between her brows shows up again, lingers, and then vanishes.

She meets Trowa's eye and nods. Once.

And then -- careful, methodical, and frighteningly efficient -- X executes a matching flip of her own.

Trowa bends his knees, sinking into the wobbling wire. He's got enough practice to make this look effortless, or as effortless as anything involving such a narrow balance point can be, but he exaggerates his technique just the slightest bit for X. If she's got attention to spare for watching him, it might be of use.

Not that she isn't well on her way already.

When she lands and looks up, Trowa returns the nod.

Well done, X. (She doesn't need his assessment. But it's there.)

X was paying as much attention as someone who does aerial acrobatics for a living (in combat) can. Which means she can spare more attention once she lands.

And when Trowa nods --

She doesn't smile.

But then, with him, she probably doesn't need to.

Not really. No.

Case in point: he isn't smiling either. (But it's already worth it to have invited her over.)

He tilts his head at her in question, letting the direction of his glance carry the details. More of this, or move on?

She gives it a moment of consideration, then flicks her own gaze outward -- away from the wire. A second later she starts making her way back to the platform.

Moving on it is, then.

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.