Bright lights glinted in his peripheral vision like glitter. His chest heaved with exertion, testing the durability of the buttons on his fitted, violet tailcoat. Beads of sweat made their way lazily down his neck and calves, soothing his heated skin.

Gods, Thymir would never tire of the end-of-show high. Audience members still bustled out of the big top openings. A young gnomish girl, cheeks ruddy with excitement, froze in her exit as she stared widely at the Tiefling ringmaster. This also stopped her accompanying adult in their tracks, as her, presumably clammy and sticky hand, clutched tightly at their own. Thymir caught the girl’s eyes and smirked, squatting down to her level.

It entertained him to no end to see the girl’s eyes widen impossibly further, and an expression that he could only categorise as awe overtake her face. It was adorable, he supposed. If one based their self-worth on the approval of children. Either way, who was he to say no to a boosting of his ego?

“You look like you enjoyed the show today,” he murmured conspiratorially.

The girl turned shyly into her guardian’s skirt, peeking only a single blue eye out at Thymir. The tiefling smiled up at the adult and winked amiably at them.

“Ah,” he wondered aloud, “Starstruck, I see. I mean, I understand. We have so many talented people showing off their skills. I do this show multiple times a day, and I never get bored!”

A lie. Thymir knew the show well, as his job required, and he’d tired of it quickly. He was an excellent ringmaster, though, so he felt no guilt about this consistent lie.

The girl mumbled something into her adult’s skirt. Thymir cocked his head, and the guardian encouraged the girl to turn around and restate her thoughts.

“What’s your favourite part?” she mumbled....