Oliver had headed off the grounds the day before, procuring local alcohol, a whole case of rum to share with whoever wanted it, with whoever was as stressed out by the magical happenings going on around the Cirque. Oliver had cleared his trailer of dolls, leaving them out on his porch to be collected, and, apparently, that had been the wrong tactic to take, because his dreams had worsened and, what was even more disturbing, he couldn't even remember them this time. No, instead, he woke up feeling exhausted, like he hadn't even slept at all, and terrified, like he'd spent his entire sleep running from unseen monsters. Talking to Kit about what had happened in London hadn't helped and Oliver was up early the next day, searching out coffee.
He found some in the kitchens and resisted the urge to add alcohol to it, rubbing at his eyes as he wandered toward the Freakshow tent to see if Lamb was there already, wanting to practice their routine in order to wake up, to get his body moving. But, then he saw Maya, who he'd been told was the IT person, and who he really did want to talk to at some point. It was nothing urgent, but there was no time like the present, and he stifled a yawn as he made his way over to her.
He eyed the bench for a moment, not wanting to clamber up while carrying hot coffee, so he extended his legs enough so that he could sit down normally, withdrawing his legs again so they dangled from the bench. "Good morning." He said to the other inhabitant of the bench when there came a pause in her typing, his voice as bright as it could be given his lack of sleep. "Maya, yes? I'm Oliver. I've been meaning to come speak to you for a bit."