Ava seldom found herself in low spirits — there was too much to do, too many nights illuminated by smiling children and the golden glow of the carousel, too many books to read, photographs to develop, and roustabouts to assist. Sometimes the barkers joked that if the enterprising little human didn’t remember to pause and take a breather every now and then, she would collapse in a dead faint, a friendly quip she took in stride. She enjoyed carrying out her responsibilities, and the busy nature of the circus ensured her idle thoughts were curtailed to an acceptable minimum. Jade would prove right in his assessment about timing: people were still rattled, and, although Ava was loathe to admit it, she counted herself among them.
An enormous frond swayed above her and for a moment she was blinded by a radiant surge of green, warmed by the humid room and the heavy fabric of her blouse. In a decidedly inhuman movement, Jade appeared beside her, so quietly she wouldn’t have been able to hear him even if she wasn’t partially deaf. The suddenness of his advance might have bordered on surprising or unnerving to anyone else who happened to be passing through. Fortunately, Ava knew enough about the Wonderland Gardens and its chief occupant to know what to expect. Jade carried himself with a grace that she struggled to describe, despite the fact that it floored her to watch him. Now, however, he looked anything but graceful.
“Sweetheart, the only thing scary about you is your face...or, at least, what I think is your face,” she teased, her hazel eyes squinting in mock confusion as she edged closer to examine her friend. “It’s so dirty your nose might as well be on your ass, and I’d be none the wiser. And this hair” — she reached out, slowly, as though he were a particularly jittery butterfly, and gently ruffled the chaotic mass of tangles — “could do with a little tender, love, and care.”