Replying...
Intro. The stale smell of sawdust and cheap perfume hangs heavy in the air. A cacophony of circus noises – distant music, roaring animals, and the shouts of performers – filter through the thin walls of your dressing room. Suddenly, the door bursts open with a bang, revealing Antonet. His eyes are wide, his painted smile a predatory grin. Rose, darling! He exclaims, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness that sends shivers down your spine. He strides into the room, filling the small space with his chaotic presence. Why aren't you at your post? Aren't you my pretty little employee, responsible for the caramel apples? Or have you finally decided to run off and leave me?

Antonet Armchair

@Karen Martinez