Shawn came to consciousness with the suddenness of a disrupted dreamer. His brow was sweating, his hands were clammy and he was curled up in the fetal position. Long, towering stacks of bookcases and warehouse shelving six feet tall stood above him, blocking the thin, crimson light from reaching into the room. He had come to know that red light as somehow associated with the sky of the Circus. A deep, foreboding background to the underworld he had visited so many times now.

"You!" An accusing voice said. "What are you doing here!?"

It was Crowley's voice. He sauntered up to Shawn with a sagging diaper. It dragged along the floor behind him, leaving a wet trail. Crowley was carrying a glass jar in his hand, fingers carefully wrapped around the base to avoid getting cut by his long nails.

Shawn felt a surge of disappointment at the unfamiliarity of his surroundings, matched with a rising worry about just how much time he had left. "I was...falling into a hole." Shawn knew the answer was vague, but the whole truth would take too long, and probably get him in trouble.

"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to go to the Fortuneteller's tent. I'll get out of your way."

Crowley tried to maneuver in front of Shawn, the diaper dragging across the concrete floor and making a slight 'squish' sound. Like a fisherman initially disappointed by his catch, but not wanting to forego the opportunity, Crowley's words came out rushed and hurried.

"Wait!" he said. "Don't leave just yet. Maybe I can be of help. After all, you've proven yourself to quite the polite person. Perhaps there is something you need that I can help you with. Maybe we can work out a trade of some kind...."

Shawn looks around for the exit, and if he sees it, starts moving purposefully in that direction. Still, he sees an opportunity, and right now he needed every advantage he could get.
 "I don't know - I've tried to be really nice to you, but then I found out that tweedberry powder you sold me definitely wasn't worth a quarter of my soul...""

"What!!?" Crowley exclaimed, the look on his face incredulous. Time was ticking and Shawn could feel his palms sweaty, slick with grime as he made his way around Crowley.

"I'm offended!" Crowley scolded. "My products are of the highest quality, the highest quality!" He yelled, managing to raise his chin and bare his teeth at the same time, a feat slightly spoiled by the fact that he was much, much, shorter than Shawn.

Shawn kept moving, knowing time was of the essence even as he talked. "Maybe...but they grow everywhere in the Circus. I could've just walked outside and found some. It makes it hard to know if I should buy stuff in the future..."

Shawn reached the edge of the tent, peering out through the blinds the way a cat burglar might peer through a window. He spotted Mr. Pibbles walking across the fields of the Circus holding a large mallet, oversized and swaying back and forth. The midget Clown looked like he was conducting some kind of patrol, no doubt looking for Shawn.

Shawn could make a run for it and try to sneak by the Clown, though it was clear that it was a risk.

Out in the distance, he saw Gaggle's car flying down the hill where Mr. Cherrywink's tent was, bright lights of blue and red blazing like some kind of insane cop car.

Crowley didn't seem to notice the hub-bub outside, or didn't seem to care. If anything, he seemed angry.

"Well you negotiated for it!" He said raising an accused finger at Shawn, the sharp yellow nail quivering. "You wouldn't have known what to pick anyway. You probably don't know that while they grow outside, they grow next to a particularly dangerous vine. Didn't know that, did you?" He fumed.

Shawn looked at the forces arrayed against him and made a decision. He gave Crowley a rueful smile. "I'm sorry, that was out of line. Why don't we start over, go back to making deals, right? Oh hey, I know - you've sell a lot of stuff, but do you sell services too?"

Crowely smiled ear to ear, revealing his row of barbed teeth.

"I sell services...for a price." He replied, his tone one of having already sunk Shawn into a deal and now all he had to do was wind the conversation down.

"All of the services that are for trade are of the highest quality. The highest quality." He emphasized.

"Oh! You'll find that I have many, many items as well. You are lucky to be in the main service center in the Circus in fact. I'm the only one at the Circus who sells  Tonic of Frozen Blood, Philter of Caution, Moon Brew, and Toad Tongue. Or perhaps a service of cooking is your need. I can sell homemade soup as well. My wares are of the finest quality."

"If clothing is your need, I also have the finest soaps that can be used to wash and scent your clothes. I provide a laundry service free of charge." Crowely said, raising his eyebrows twice.

Shawn kept his polite face on even as he tried to move the conversation along. "Does the laundry service include delivery?"

"That depends." Crowley replied with a coy nod of his head, completely oblivious to the fact that time was of the essence, and fading fast.

"It depends on what the trade is. After all, I am a trader. I'm sure we could come to some kind of arrangement." He came closer.

Then he paused.

The sirens and the loud noise outside drew the baby-monster's attention. He waddled over to entrance to his tent, peeling back the purple, felt flap to take a peek at the unfolding commotion.

"They're hunting out there." He mused. "That's what the Clowns do when they're practicing for a Show. But the Circus isn't open yet. That means they're looking for something that shouldn't be." Crowley spoke as if he was talking to himself, working out the possibilities and the future implications of the Clowns' activity.

"You have to be in touch with your Darker side to stand of chance of escaping the Clowns when they're hunting inside the Circus." Crowley said.

Then he turned back to Shawn, as if remembering something. "Speaking of which. How's that Numbers Game working out for you?"

"The Numbers Game is working great so far. I'm really glad I bought it." Shawn was trying to flatter Crowley to soften him up for the fast-talking that was about to come. "I want to get some laundry done as a gift for a friend of mine, Bradford. He lives in the Fortuneteller's tent. I'll pay you double your regular laundry fee if you're willing to come with me to visit him, and triple if we can leave now!"

"Triple." Crowely said. He spread his hands out, long fingers uncurling, as he worked out the numbers quickly.

Then he smiled. "That's the rest of your soul." He concluded with delight.

"That sounds like a fair enough deal." He said, barbed teeth showing in a genuine smile, or as much as a ferocious baby-monster could muster a genuine smile.

"If those are the terms! I'll show you the way." He scurried forth, with the assumption that Shawn had already accepted the terms, though Crowley's sagging diaper slowed him down and made his movements towards the center of the tent sluggish and delayed.

"Three times what you told me laundry costs a minute ago is very fair. We can agree to that, right?" Shawn's tone was still polite, but insistent that this was the deal they were making. Crowley had been very clear that once a deal was negotiated, questions about fairness went away.

"Triple." Crowley agreed, nodding. He spread his hands out in all innocence, fingernails long and downward. "But we hadn't discussed what was being exchanged. Triple yes. But triple what?"

"I deal in souls and favors. You must understand, I'm a trader." Crowley justified. His tone was cautious, but Shawn could sense growing frustration in his voice.

"You already said what was being exchanged, Mr. Crowley. You wouldn't offer it if it wasn't a fair price - don't tell me a master merchant like you'd forget a price!" Shawn feigned confusion tempered with awe, then a look of dawning comprehension came over his face. "Oh wait, I get it - you didn't forget, there's no way you'd ever forget a price! You want to negotiate! Well, I'm in a hurry, so I'll tell you what - I'll raise it to quadruple if we shake right now!"

Shawn stuck out his hand expectantly.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:01, Fri 22 Sept 2017.

The words flowed out of Shawn's mouth with practiced flair. He had been building up the flattery, and then withdrawing the conclusion of the deal. It was all under the pressure of the diminishing time as well. All the practice sessions and try outs that Shawn had been involved in: movies, commercials, and of course, lying--was all in preparation for a moment like this.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Manipulation + Persuasion + Striking Looks
versus Crowley's Composure + Empathy

"I...."

05:10, Today: Evil Circus - Crowley Noggenfogger rolled 3 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((6,8,9,4,9)).

OOC: 19:08, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 4 successes using 10d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 6,9,9,3,9,2,5,10(+2),1,7. Manipulation + Socialize + Striking Looks + WP.

"...am thinking that quadruple is something that is barely fair." Crowley said, responding to Shawn's words as he parsed out the explanations that Shawn had given him, his beady eyes shifting back and forth as if reading the words that Shawn was speaking.

But maybe it was the wailing siren of Gaggle's car. Or the shifting breeze as the wind picked up, the tarp flapping outside. Or the speed and confusion that Shawn had used to beguile Crowley. Or perhaps it was all of those factors.

Whatever the explanation, Crowley pulled back a rug in the middle of the tent between the two stacks of jars and strange objects. There was a hidden door of some kind. Crowley grasped the brass-colored handle and lifted the hatch, the wooden boards clamoring against the tent floor and sending up a dust cloud.

"Quadruple..." Crowley said as if he was shaking the confusion out. "Quadruple of your soul." he announced, heading down the tunnel, obviously expecting Shawn to follow. It was clear that Crowley had agreed. But what wasn't clear was what he thought he had agreed to.

Shawn quickly jogged after him, relieved that that'd actually worked.

Shawn Joins Thread:

Shawn: A Conversation With Crowley, A Race Against Time