The Universe's Mixer

Schmendrick had a particular point of view when it came to hardship: outlast, outlast, outlast. He'd developed an infuriating amount of patience over the years, which he'd needed to keep from going mad as the world passed him by and left him treading water. He had the feeling that he could outlast this, too. The City was not the worst place he'd ever been, and though he was rather disappointed in his occasionally-faulty magic, that was old hat too. He could cope. He could outlast.

The key was a sense of humor. He didn't need a job - Zoe had been right about the City providing food and money. So, he didn't take one. Instead, on sunny days he set up in the park nearest to where he was staying and did tricks. Once upon a time such things would've seemed beneath him, but he was finding that even the mistakes made children smile. It seemed worthwhile, like a way to benefit the people around him, even if it were in some small way.

He'd rather spend his days laughing than miserable.

At the moment, Schmendrick was at a fork in the path, busy turning handkerchiefs into hummingbirds. He got two correct in a row, then balled the third in his fist and transformed it into an orange. So far, so good.

Then the orange began to sing quite the bawdy song. It was barely two lines in, just before the opening description of the barkeep's daughter, and the magician's eyes had gone as wide as dinner plates. He slapped a hand over the opening in the peel that was serving as a mouth and hissed at the orange. "SHHH."

"Mfffmrrruuuuhhhhmmmm." The orange hummed.