{ w h o } Gil and Michael { w h a t } An unexpected visitor for highly unexpected reasons. { w h e n } Monday night { w h e r e } Gil's trailer { r a t i n g } Possibly NC-17, TBD { s t a t u s } In progress
Outside, the rest of the carnival buzzed with gossip about some kind of religious mania.
Inside his trailer, Gil was lost in his own obsessions.
He sat at a flimsy card table laid out with knotted rope and gutted locks, consulting sketchbooks filled with cramped text and rough mechanical and mathematical sketches. People saw the flash of his act and didn't understand the sheer amount of study it took, let alone practice. But he loved every minute of it.
Especially when he had failures in other areas, highly significant areas, to get off his mind.
He was muttering to himself about the calculation of knot efficiency for repeated loading when he heard a knock at the door. Gil stuck his pencil behind his ear and went to answer it.