Dick nodded, giving Clint a look of sympathy. It happened, a lot more often these days. Like Clint had said earlier, the circus wasn't exactly in high demand anymore. If you cut out the animal acts, you could get a little more business in places that didn't want the hassle from animal rights activists, and if you had a unique schtick you could reel in the people with an artistic interest. But the old-fashioned three-ring big top version of the circus was a dying thing. There were still a couple of major touring companies but the smaller ones had either closed up shop or had moved to boardwalks and special pop-up shows.
"That's not an uncommon story," Dick shrugged. "It's hard. And if you can do something else, most people do that instead. And you can't really beat being a superhero for the something else, even if it's really not great at paying the bills." He sure knew that one from personal experience. You'd think the perk of being adopted by a rich guy was being set up for life, but he had never gotten a cent from Bruce. Temporary access to the Batcave and some really cool tech had more than made up for it, but batarangs still didn't pay for a new bike when you were thirteen.