Roman was always brains, not brawn and mucking stalls, hauling wheelbarrows of wood shavings, holding ladders, and heavy buckets of whatever it was that the weird toybox of creatures ate had plumb tuckered him out. And it was only his third day on the job!
It wasn't technically break time yet, but Roman more or less lived by squeezing in, out of, and around technicalities. The little demon was curled up not unlike a cat on top of a wheeled popcorn stand. Surely nobody would think to look UP for somebody with wings so small he could hardly fly.
Roman slept ungracefully, acne-scarred face smushed against the wagon's top, glasses askew, long forked tongue all but hanging out. When he'd settled to nap, he'd carefully coiled his tail up underneath him, but slowly and surly it unfurled and flopped over one side of the cart's decorative top.
DO YOUR WORK
"Wow, you did it, good job," said Roman with all the enthusiasm of someone congratulating another person on taking a shit. He handed over the colorful bear to the patron and moved his eyes up to greet the next person in line. Were they a legit customer? Were they a shil? He didn't know or care. Nothing had made him care. Yet.
"Roll up, roll up, hit a balloon, win a prize."
WILD CARD
Be my guest! He does lots of dogsbody work around the circus and can be found doing (or avoiding doing) a great number of things! He also loves junkfood so it's possible to find him hanging around the concessions.
((OOC: Will reply in prose or brackets, your choice!))
Roman Gulliver | OC | GARBAGE NEWBIE
Roman was always brains, not brawn and mucking stalls, hauling wheelbarrows of wood shavings, holding ladders, and heavy buckets of whatever it was that the weird toybox of creatures ate had plumb tuckered him out. And it was only his third day on the job!
It wasn't technically break time yet, but Roman more or less lived by squeezing in, out of, and around technicalities. The little demon was curled up not unlike a cat on top of a wheeled popcorn stand. Surely nobody would think to look UP for somebody with wings so small he could hardly fly.
Roman slept ungracefully, acne-scarred face smushed against the wagon's top, glasses askew, long forked tongue all but hanging out. When he'd settled to nap, he'd carefully coiled his tail up underneath him, but slowly and surly it unfurled and flopped over one side of the cart's decorative top.
DO YOUR WORK
"Wow, you did it, good job," said Roman with all the enthusiasm of someone congratulating another person on taking a shit. He handed over the colorful bear to the patron and moved his eyes up to greet the next person in line. Were they a legit customer? Were they a shil? He didn't know or care. Nothing had made him care. Yet.
"Roll up, roll up, hit a balloon, win a prize."
WILD CARD
Be my guest! He does lots of dogsbody work around the circus and can be found doing (or avoiding doing) a great number of things! He also loves junkfood so it's possible to find him hanging around the concessions.
((OOC: Will reply in prose or brackets, your choice!))