{ w h o } Michael and Bailey. { w h a t } Practicing a new stunt for the act. { w h e n } Monday, pre-evening show. { w h e r e } Sideshow, backstage area. { r a t i n g } PG.
Bailey's regular act was doing well, but that didn't mean it couldn't be any better. He had a lot to live up to, considering his long lineage of stage-savvy performers, and the other acts who did things that drew even more crowds than he did. But since he didn't have the technical skills of Gil, or the seeming invincibility of Walt, Bailey had to consider his other options. He hated to be outdone, and so constantly had to figure out new ways to awe an audience or he'd just wind up feeling inadequate and horrible about himself. Right now, he had a major case of performance envy, and had decided something drastic was in order to try to keep up with the rest of them.
He decided to do the most dangerous thing he could think of, topped off with making it all the more dangerous by adding fire to it - but then, this tended to be the way he decided to do most things.
With one hand and wrist already bandaged from his earlier attempts at mastering this trick today, Bailey wasn't looking anywhere near his usual dapper self as he sprayed down the swords with kerosene and prepared to set them alight. This would have been so much easier to do with someone to help out. Hrm.
He sincerely hoped his mother wouldn't walk by at this point.