Rubbish Ocean - Open

[Giles Tippet]

Giles stabbed a juice carton with his paper picker, lifting it to place the offending item into the refuse sack next to him. Perhaps he’d been a little overzealous with his stabbing motion that time, as the cardboard was stuck well and truly onto the point. He used his foot to dislodge it and scowled as a little liquid dribbled onto his shoe. Rookie mistake, everybody who had ever tried to clear up a can, bottle or, of course, a carton knew that there was always a little bit of liquid left ready to spill at the most inopportune moment.

The fact that he even knew that was depressing enough, but since his primary role at the circus was to pick up trash he supposed it was an essential piece of information if he didn’t want to spend all his time smelling like garbage. Being a trash picker wasn’t all he did, he helped put up the tents, fed animals, ran errands for the star acts and whatever else was required of him. That didn’t change the gloomy reality that he spent most of his time clearing up other people’s mess though.

It was too hot to work, mid-morning light seeming to bleach all the colour out of the surroundings even as the sun rose steadily higher in the sky, beating mercilessly down on Giles as he made slow progress along the Midway, clearing the wilting grass of rubbish from the previous evening’s crowd. What was the point, when he would only have to start over tomorrow. And yet Giles had the terrible affliction of actually caring about his job, of believing he played some small role in the, admittedly waning, success of the circus.

He had a farmer’s tan, his t-shirt protecting his shoulder’s and torso from the long hours in the sun, but leaving his arms and neck free to pick up a pinkish tan that was inches away from being burnt. Giles always wore thick workman’s gloves so he could tackle any broken glass he came across while he worked and a flat cap to protect his scalp from the sun and shade his eyes a little. All in all he blended in nicely, a little scruffy perhaps, but anonymous. If he kept his head down, kept working, then hopefully he wouldn’t have to deal with any ridiculous demands from the more high-profile acts. Mr. Fontaine has made it clear the headliners were to get what they wanted, in a desperate bid to get them to stay. Which was exactly why Giles didn’t want to get asked.

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[Evolet Austins]

Evolet had just finished up practicing her act, which she would be performing later that night, and was at the moment just meandering about, absent mindedly moving from one location to the other, prolonging her treck towards the female's living quarters (trailers). She hadn't exactly made fast friends with any of the other females, and wasn't in any bit of a hurry to get back to them, especially since it was afternoon, the hottest part of the day, and they would most likely all be inside, trying to sheild their delicate selves from the unforgiving sun. Evolet would much rather be out here, possibly burning, then be in there, doing her best to avoid all the other performers.

Now on her way through The-Midway, Evolet sighed. Not many chose to hang out here during the day, only at night, when the games were up and running, and the sun had dissapeared. That was when the real fun started. Especially when the circus performers came out to play. She reached into her coat pocket then, removing a cigarette and a lighter. She stuck the cigarette in her mouth, lighting it and taking a drag before dropping her pink lighter back into her pocket. Finally, some relief. Nicotine always calmed her nerves, which was why she used to smoke before every show, but she was becoming more comfortable in front of the crowds, and didn't find herself needing them as much anymore. Plus, she had smoke down her throat all day anyway, or when her fire-eating act went wrong at least, and one cigarette really wasn't going to hurt her as much as her act possibly could.

Looking up, Evolet squinted through the harsh sunlight, smiling slightly when she saw the trash-man, making his way across the midway, and then probably around the rest of the grounds. "What a horrible job," she thought to herself. Plus, she'd been listening in on some of the other girls' conversations, and had heard that Mr. Fontaine had directly instructed this man that he was to help out the performers in any way he could, or in other words, do anything they ordered him too. But hey, maybe it was just gossip. Evolet wouldn't push this guy around anyway. His life probably sucked enough.

Taking another drag, Evolet wandered up beside him, looking out over the circus as she spoke. "Why aren't you inside with everyone else? It's damn hot out here." She blew some smoke rings above and away from the man, knowing most people hated when she smoked around them, and especially not liking when she blew smoke right into their faces. Scratching her pink head with one hand, she looked at him and smiled. "I'm Evolet."

[Giles Tippet]

Circus flyer, food wrapper, cola can, Giles moved methodically along, depositing each item into the bin bag at his side. Every so often he paused, straightening to stretch out his back and wipe a forearm across his brow. The midway was pretty deserted, which was why he spotted the woman with pink hair relatively easily. He didn’t immediately recognise her, pink hair wasn’t exactly unique in a circus, where every other performer had their hair dyed some bright colour.

When she got a little closer he did eventually identify her as the fire eater. Giles didn’t know her name, had never spoken to her before, but had seen her practicing her act a few times as he went about his business. ”Trash don’t pick up itself,” He said, spearing a ticket stub onto the paper picker to illustrate his point. ”Ma’am.” Giles added as an after thought, aiming for polite, but falling a little short. It was hard to stay good humoured when you were sweating like a pig and you had juice splattered on your shoe. ”And I could say the same to you.”

Giles watched the smoke rings float past his head and dissipate with mild interest. A neat trick and probably part of her act, the kind of thing he saw fairly often given the nature of their work pace, but he still found impressive, if only because if was a skill he didn’t have. He didn’t mind cigarettes, in fact he was partial to the occasional smoke himself, it was the cigarette butts that bothered him. Carelessly tossed on the ground by so many people and too small to be speared by the paper picker.

”Tra-” Giles started to respond, then realised that the not so welcomed nickname of Trash-man would only stick if he actually started giving it out to people. ”Giles.” He said with what might have been a flicker of a grin. He was still a little wary, it wasn’t like the performers usually had a reason to talk to him, not unless they were about to ask him to do something. Then again they didn’t normally introduce themselves either, probably under the assumption that he should already know who they were and they didn’t really need to know who he was.

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[Evolet Austins]

Evolet had always been quite intrigued by the circus, and could remember begging her parents to take her when it rolled into town. They always gave in eventually, and she'd be wide-eyed the entire time, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the unthinkable acts, clapping and laughing at the funny looking clowns, and wishing she could follow the beautiful performers off stage, find out what their life consisted of off stage. But that was one thing she never got to do. Only the priveleged got to see the performers in their natural habitat, their every day life, and Evolet was not one of those, until now, of course.

Faint smile flickered across Evolet's features as he made the "Trash doesn't pick itself up" comment. She tilted her head to one side, squinting and staring at the man. She could tell he had a pretty serious farmer's tan going on, and frowned slightly as she looked at her own paper white skin. Since the day she was born, she was never graced with skin that tanned. Taking another drag, she straightened up, hand on her hip. That was true, he could ask the same of her. She thought about how she would answer such a question, and winced as she realized how bad the answer would really sound. "I have no real friends, and would just rather keep to myself and burn the hell out of my skin rather than being inside." That sounded just horrible, so she ignored his comment completly.

"Giles." She caught the faint glimpse of a smile as he spoke his name, and she couldn't help but offer a smile in return. This guy seemed nice enough, and it really was a relief to find some friendly to talk to. "Pleasure." She glanced away, flicking her ashes into the dying grass. "Am I distracting you?" She was being completly serious. Getting this nice man in trouble for not doing his job really was not what she wanted. Especially when you had Mr. F to answer to.

[Giles Tippet]

He could feel her watching him as he working away at clearing up the rubbish immediately surrounding them, Giles shifted, a little uncomfortable about being scrutinised. Evolet wasn’t the only one that had noticed the staggering differences between them, his skin rough, tanned and grubby while hers was smooth and pale like porcelain. He always felt particularly sub-par in comparison to the other performers. They had this air of glitz and glamour about them, even when they weren’t performing. They were the kind of people that could pull off sequins and do it with style.

Of course Giles could always try buying into the look, dressing things up a little by getting one of the costume ladies to sew sequins onto his hat, glue rhinestones onto his boots or make his workman’s gloves glittery. His lips quirked up a little at the thought and he had to fight back a snort of laughter. No, he didn’t have the showmanship for that kind of thing. At the end of the day he would just be a man with sequins on his hat. And wouldn’t that be slightly ridiculous.

“No ma’am,” He shook his head to reassure her, paper picker seeking out trash almost on autopilot. Giles had completed this task enough times to be an expert with the tools of his trade. “I just ain’t never had an audience before.” Giles explained with a rueful grin as though he found it amusing that she might want to watch him pick up rubbish. ”My job ain’t nearly so interesting to see as some of the other people around here.”

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[Evolet Austins]

Her cigarette was still going strong, and Evolet continued to puff away, her eyes drifting from Giles, then down to the trash he was spearing, then back up to watch his face. She wasn't intentionally being intimidating, if that was what she was being to begin with. She just found him more interesting then any of the other performers or workers around here, much nicer, too.

She smiled softly as Giles informed her that she really wasn't being such a bother, and looked away, watching the few others that were outside scamper to find shade. Then she looked down at her almost translucent legs, biting her lip as she realized they weren't even a bit mor etan then they were weeks ago. How sad.

She tilted her head as Giles spoke again, and considered her asnwer carefully. "I don't know if I would consider myself an audience." She took another drag on her sigarette. "And I've seen all those other acts time and time again. Yours is much more interesting anyway." She amiled, looking at the ground. Truth was, he was just much more friendly then anyone else, so she'd much rather be in his company, even if his trade was just picking up trash.. "How'd you land yourself this job, anyway?"

[Giles Tippet]

Giles gave Evolet a look, trying to figure out if she was being serious or not. The circus was full of unusual people and even by their standards she was a bit strange if she considered picking up trash interesting. Perhaps it wasn’t so much an interest as a need for a little bit of normality, the circus was always on the move and it was always about the show, but no matter what there was always rubbish and it always needed picking up, no chance of glamour or melodrama either. Satisfied with this explanation he gave a small shrug, each to their own form of entertainment.

”Yer watchin’ me work, that’s as close as I’m gonna get to performin’ these days.” He pointed out stooping to pick up a cigarette butt and a couple of wooden candyfloss skewers, dirt clinging to the sticks where the remnants of sticky pink sugar remained. Giles deposited them in the rubbish bag too and, with a practiced eye, seemed to decide that the bag was quite full enough so he set it down and tied it off, fishing a crumpled empty one from his pocket to begin the whole process again.

One of the things Giles liked about the circus was that people generally didn’t care about your past as long as you could do your job and do it well. It was a rare occasion that anybody asked what he’d done before the circus, or how he came to work there. ”I used to juggle knives.” He said lightly, the part of his past he was happier to admit to than being a former college literature professor. ”Fontaine arranged this one when I decided the jugglin’ ain’t for me. The circus looks after their own.” Giles neglected to mention the part where it had cost him two toes before he realised he might not be following the right career.

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