A dark mysterious fairground

Leroy Deviant found himself in one of his favorite places in the whole carnival, his private study. It was a large car that was part of the jet black train that carried the carnival where it was to preform. It held a desk and several armchairs, in case he had guests, and a bed tucked away in the corner. The raven haired man found very little use in sleep, or company, yet he always partook in the occasional nap, and always had guests in his study. At the moment everyone who reported to him would be guiding the drones, which were humans with their souls sucked out, in setting up camp. Soon however, they would all come flocking to him to request time slots in the routine, and to find out their quota of souls they had to steal. It was simple really. Large quotas meant grander shows, which meant more fun. Leroy sighed and stared at a random spot on the roof of his study. He had to figure out how many souls he needed, he had enough to keep rejuvenating his workers for a couple months, but he had to fill the tank eventually. The question remained, now or later?