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tag: open
<p>words: 402
<p>notes: first jerry post :)
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It had only been a few days since the carnival’s arrival in the village, but already the people who travelled with it were well settled in. With just an hour or so until dusk, Jerry Twatt sat up in bed, hitting his head (not for the first time) on the bunk above his own. This would be the last time he made
any wagers that would risk decent sleeping arrangements, the troll wrangler vowed mentally as he swore loudly. Taking extra care to
duck this time, he swung his body around and climbed from the bed, slipping quickly into his clothes before leaving the tent to amble down to the enclosure. Blasted trolls had to be riled up a bit before they could be deemed entertaining, though it was not a task the carnie relished: his were
not the most nimble of feet, and there had been more than one occasion when he had been unable to dodge a troll’s swing in time.
<p>Jerry whistled cheerfully as he roamed across the carnival, which was—for now—quite quiet. The Hogsmeade residents would not begin their traipsing about until the carnival opened its gates for the evening, and those with whom he worked were only just emerging to prepare for their shows that evening. For once, the man noted with a degree of surprise, he seemed to be running
on schedule; ordinarily, he found himself running rather late (and more than a bit hungover from whatever mischief he had gotten up to the night before.
<p>He was distracted from his casual survey by a snarl just before him, prompting Jerry to jump backwards, almost losing his balance entirely. “You’ll be wantin’ to watch that beast o’ yours,” he reminded the handler, wary eyes never leaving the tiger. Most of the creatures that the carnival hauled around with them were
largely harmless—at the very least, the chances of them killing you tended to be slim, though those damn dragons, which Jerry adamantly refused to go near, were always an exception—but that did not keep him from wanting to stay on their good side, or wanting
them to stay well under control.
<p>The handler let out a laugh that Jerry echoed with one of his own—though it was a bit strained—before the two parted to go in their own directions once more. Once alone again, Jerry resumed his whistling once more.
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