He accepted the small, shadowy creature from Isaac with a delighted gasp. "Hey there little buddy," he crooned, absently reaching out with his free hand to affectionately clap the other witch on the shoulder; the last few months had seen him acclimate well to the physicality of his coven's affections. He might not have been involved in some of their more... intimate group gatherings (he was more a one-witch kinda guy, what could he say?) but he was nothing if not adaptable to the constant smooching, hugging, and general touching that came with being Coven.
Beauregard looked up at him dubiously. He didn't like the patronizing, cooing tones that Grayson was using with him. Grayson told him in no uncertain terms that he was helpless to stop, and that he shouldn't have been so cute, then.
He glanced up from this conversation to acknowledge Marcus. "That is an excessive get up," he informed the fire witch, his good humor fading slightly as he finally regarded the line of seemingly witless individuals who now stood among the powerful members of the cirque's coven. He paled again and made a face that suggested he smelt something terrible.
Human sacrifices were not exactly his thing.
He set Beauregard up on his shoulder and sighed, looking between the faces of his crew. "Listen. I bought my chalks with me incase you need anything pulled through, but... for the most part I'll probably be over here. In the corner. Covering my ears and going lalalala really loud until it's over. And hangin' out with my main man Beauregard."