Darrel
"I'm just," He bounces up on the table, a few knick knacks tumbling over the side, hurdling towards the ground as the man throws his arms out, "SINGIN', in the rain!" He belts, and does a delicate spin on the table, "JUST! SINGIN! IN! THE! RAIIIIIINNNN!" He ends abruptly, a laugh bubbling up his throat as he flicks the blonde strands of hair from his piercing blue eyes.
"S-S-Sir, maybe you have had too much to drink...." One of the maids stutters, rushing to pick up the things that had fallen onto the ground.
He grabs his whiskey glass and pours another drink, watching the liquid drip drop into the cup, "Nonsense! I'm just simply celebrating! Come, dear!" He grabs her hand and spins her in a circle, a charming smile zipping across his face, "Let us dance."
The maid turns bright red as he spins her, this was probably the first time she ever felt like royalty... Darrel chuckled, giving to the needy was always so...Rewarding...
As he lets her go gently, he takes another large gulp of his drink and wipes his mouth, sitting down on his rug and taking a deep breath in.
A howl is heard, it pierces Darrel's ears and his face drops into a low scowl, "That filthy flesh-eater..."
His nose wrinkles in disgust as he finishes off his whiskey. He watches the maid continue to clean, ignoring the angered rumbles coming from the cages. If they want to make a scene, Darrel would let them. As long as there wasn't any commotion stirring, Darrel rarely worries, for he believes he has the whole Cirque in his hand; the Cirque are his puppets, and he was the master, all the strings were his to tug and jostle if needed.
"Sir, is there anything else you might need?" The maid asks as she picks up her basket with her cleaning supplies.
"Mmm... Some food would be nice, have the cook send in a plate in an hour. You are free to go." He waves her off with his bejeweled fingers and she eagerly leaves the tent.
Darrel's eyes flicker to his right, then back to his left, searching for something to do, something to amuse him for the time being. He stands, effortlessly gliding towards his desk again, shuffling through some papers that he had left over on his desk. As he shuffles through the papers, he notices a handwritten letter...
Darrel,
For a long time, I have tracked you down to this Cirque... And I think it is only fair for you to meet your son. His name is Bosco, he has gone eighteen years without a father. He deserves one. You must tell him the truth, you...
Darrel stops reading it, curling up the neatly written letter in his fist, tossing it into the trash bin.
The truth would slay Bosco... It would make him spiral into a thousand black suns... Darrel couldn't say a thing, for it was not his fault that this had happened.... It couldn't be...Darrel shook his head violently, as if it would shake the thoughts away from him forever.