Glee found someone sitting at the desk, and it certainly didn’t look like anyone who could be responsible for such a horrible place. The man sitting at the desk was balding with white hair and kindly eyes He looked almost similar to the Showmaster: same dark eyes, same faintly transparent skin, though the Showmaster‘s dark horns were longer and more curved. his wrinkled hand shook as he reached for a fountain pen and began writing in a journal. The desk was the same rich brown wood, very organized, everything placed strictly into neat stacks. He didn’t seem to notice Glee, even though they weren’t hiding.

The man at the desk looked up, pushing up his square glasses as he squinted at Glee. He didn’t say or do anything, just continued his writing, the marks scribbly with the proof of an elderly man’s shaking hands.

“H-hello?” Glee’s voice was hesitant, they hadn’t been expecting such a response--or a lack of one.

The man didn’t respond; he just kept writing.

They raised their weapon and prepared to speak. It was similar to a staff, but on each end rested a sharp blade. The dark metal that made up the handle was light but sturdy; the weapon was designed for Glee’s ability to jump into impossibly high places.

“Dude.” They snapped below the man’s nose and he looked up as if surprised to see someone there.

“Oh, hello! What can I do for you?”

Glee hesitated—this person didn’t seem bad enough to threaten. They decided they’d do their best to persuade him, and if worse came to worst, they’d bring out their weapon. Until then, Glee carefully folded up the staff and stuck it in a sheathe.

“Alright, man.” They sat down in a chair across from the man. “There’s two kids here, okay? One’s Rags, one’s Griff. Rags, as I’m sure you know, fought with what’s-her-face. His arm got ripped apart for shit and now that fu— and now his arm is gone. He can’t fight anymore, and Griff just isn’t fighting material.”

The man pushed his glasses up. “You’re saying you want to buy them off of me? Dear boy, Rags comes at a high price. He’s made quite a lot for the Arena.”

Glee was taken aback, stunned. “I don’t buy people!” Their voice rose at the end of their statement to near hysteria. “I’m not a fucking monster, I don’t spend my time looking for the best people to buy and going to a fucking cruel bioengineering facility and commissioning a person to be made, got me?”

The man at the desk glanced at Glee’s weapon. It was at his throat, a tiny drop of blood beading on the old man’s wrinkled skin. Glee hadn’t even realized they’d put it there.

“Dear child,” began the man, in a strongly condescending tone, like an adult scolding a child who did something that they found so stupid that the “kind” adult just had to take it upon themselves to explain anything and everything to this child. “You cannot just take Rags, nor Griff. They’ve given me a lot of money, and unless you plan to pay the money he’s retrieved tenfold, you cannot have him.”

Glee growled, putting more pressure on the blade. “I can’t, huh? What if I’m not taking him?”

The old man arched his eyebrows, making a vague gesture for Glee to continue.

“What if he’s standing outside this door? What if he’s holding me hostage in order to get out himself?”

His eyes narrowed, searching for truth in Glee’s voice, their expression.

Glee plowed on. “What if, just what if I’m not the only one who he’s holding hostage?” They gestured at the picture on the desk, gold framing a photo of a young girl, obviously the man’s daughter or granddaughter.

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The man frowned, considering this. After a long pause, he answered, “I have a hard time believing that you have Lily held hostage. She’s dead.”

Glee huffed, frustrated—that made his plan a bit more complicated. “Arright, dude, I don’t have your frickin’ child or grandchild or whatever. But I do have… a blade to your throat!” Glee’s voice had the tone of a circus announcer before dropping to deadly serious. “If you want to keep your windpipe in one piece, I suggest you let Rags outta here.”

“That’s not my greatest concern right now, is it?”

Glee snorted. “It sure as hell should be, you self-important piece of shit. If you’re not worried about getting decapitated, you have problems.”

He shrugged and went about his writing, as if the razor-sharp blade against his throat was nothing but a gnat buzzing around his ears.

Glee snarled and threw open the doors, exposing Rags to the man. This, for once, got the man’s attention.

“Listen, dude,” began Glee, “I’ve tried being nice and it hasn’t fucking worked. So if I have to, this is what I’m gonna do. I will take your will and say that everything goes to Rags and I. Then guess what? Buh-bye, bastard!”

The man looked slightly shocked. “Rags!” He exclaimed. “After all I’ve done for you?”

“Dr. Allizin—” Rags began, but Glee interrupted.

“After all you’ve done for him? What, pray tell, have you done for him?! Kidnap him and train him to fight? Put him against Ikina la Farla, making it your fault that he lost an eye and an arm?”

Glee would’ve continued, when Rags shouted above Glee’s words. “Glee! Hush!”

The circus performer reluctantly fell silent, leaning back against the wall and glaring at Dr. Allizin, waiting impatiently for Rags’ explanation.

“Allizin, I’m so sorry. I should’ve come in and given you a proper explanation. I was thinking… I’m about to turn fifteen. Most people are given the choice when they’ve worked here for sixteen years, whether or not they can stay.” Rags took in a deep, shuddering breath, and Glee realized he might be crying or holding back tears. “I’m nearing my fifteenth birthday. I was wondering if, as a tribute for how much better at everyone else I’ve been, if I could be released a year early.”

Dr. Allizin frowned. “I’ll consider it, dear boy. For the meantime, go to the dorm and send this outside.” He waved a hand at Glee.

Glee stormed out, muttering about senile old men. Rags hesitated and followed, saying goodbye to Allizin before moving through the catacombs, following Glee’s loud footsteps. He heard them come to a halt with one loud, echoing impact and rushed forward only to find an empty room with a skylight. Strange. Rags hadn’t even known that it existed. He climbed up a rope and found his way outside. He couldn’t hear Glee’s footsteps, now that the echo of the concrete walls was no longer there to guide him.

After a few moments, he spotted Glee’s form, walking towards the woods where the two had dropped off Griff. He followed quickly and met Glee there, only to find that the two were laughing, watching as a young fox in the distance chased after a bright blue butterfly. He paused, wondering if Rags’ presence alone would be enough to dampen their moods. He sat down, against a nearby tree, occasionally cracking a smile whenever Glee or Griff cracked a joke.

After a bit, Glee seemed to notice Rags was there. “Hey, kid! How ya doin’?”

Rags was taken aback by how quickly Glee’s mood had improved, but Glee’s smile didn’t seem to reach their eyes. “Uhm. I’m doing good,” he replied after a few moments of awkward silence, punctuated by Griff tapping out a beat on his legs.

“You’re gonna have to work for a long time.”

“I know. It hasn’t quite sunk in, though.”

Glee grunted in response. Eventually Griff asked when they could go to the circus, and Glee responded with “right now!” before Rags could answer.

The three quickly set off to the circus, Glee leading the way, occasionally teasing Griff with a “race you to that tree!” and jumping into the tree’s branches. When Griff began to whine about it, Glee let the kid win a few of the races.

When they arrived, it was far past dark. Glee was tired, and Griff’s uncharacteristic moodiness seemed to be caused by fatigue, as well. Glee showed their companions to the dorms and invited them to the mostly-empty room they occupied. Griff seemed in awe at the soft beds, with sheets and good blankets, not on the floor, but in a bed frame. It made Glee simultaneously sad and happy, seeing the kid so happy about something most took for granted.

Rags was sitting up against the bed frame.

Glee sat on their bed, unwinding for a few minutes before settling down into bed. They fell asleep before their head hit the pillow.