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"Why you onna rope?"

The question came suddenly and seemingly out of the blue. A young, young fellow stood awkwardly, a thumb migrating towards his pudgy lips, as though he were suddenly embarrassed by his tiny, yet very valid question. Why was the other on a rope? He didn't quite understand it.

The politoed blinked his big, soft eyes as he studied the other child, who was obviously a visitor. The fried, greasy things got old after a while and were certainly not healthy, but food was food and he was hungry. He held a few measly coins in his free hand, clutching them with a tight fervor. He had promised he'd bring the Furret back some and he'd specifically ordered mamoswine ears, so Tobias knew well enough that he'd better bring some back to the small, crowded building that they called home. While many, many others took care of him, he had a fondness for Dodger and would have followed the fellow to the ends of the earth, would it be necessary. At least he would at the time being and he really didn't know any better. The carnies were his only family.

"Y'put dogs on leashes, an' you don' look like no dog t'me." He was fascinated and removed his thumb to speak. It was a terrible habit, but he had none of his usual companions to chastise him for doing so, so he took full advantage of being alone. He was still only a tiny child, after all, so he could pull it off for a little while longer. He absentmindedly fiddled with the rim of his hat, his coin-laden hand tucked closely and guardedly to his breast.

The boy with the autumn hair and the curious, green eyes certainly didn't look afraid as he studied the tiny phantom that was performing before him. His little fangs sure did look sharp, but something about him just didn't make the young amphibian feel terrified for his life. He'd never felt terrified for his life, come to think of it, but he certainly didn't feel it at that moment and felt even less so, if that was even possible, when the other pointed out his brightly coloured leg warmers.

"Oh! Thankee, ol' Dodger done give 'em to me an' they is awful warm and comfy." He beamed proudly as he tipped his upper torso slightly, leaning back in a rocking motion to show off his shins.

"Them's monies, that's what Dodger done called 'em, 'e said they is super impordant, not to lose 'em, so I ain't gonna." The shyness that cloaked him earlier seemed to dissipate almost instantly as he chattered on with Malo.

"M'name en't swirly-belly, s'Tobias." He examined the rope closely, turning an eye to Preston. If the noctowl had heard, he surely wouldn't let him fiddle with the rope!

"They en't toys, I done tol' ya. They's monies and they's impordant." He repeated, his thin lips twisting into an ever so slight frown. He worried that maybe he wasn't old enough to handle the golden coins, either. Especially since this stranger seemed a tad bit older than himself.

"Toby..." He repeated. He liked the nickname and several of the carnies used it, too. It sounded so much more gentler than Tobias and Malo had used it, so Malo must be a friend. The young politoed had simple logic and that easy grin slid right back across his lips.

"Malo, s'a nice name y'got. Makes me think'a marshmewwows." He chirped, happy as a clam, as his wee hands made for the rope wrapped around Malo's stomach. The knot was easy enough. Even if he was only a tiny, young thing, he had to start learning the trade early. The furret often showed him different knot ties and explained certain structures. He would have no schooling, but he would know the street life well. He tugged the knot undone quickly, only after shoving the coins in his pocket.

"There!" He whispered giddily.

"Y'know, dem sweet things what is sticky 'n white 'n goopy when y'heat 'em up! They's pretty nommy." His words were almost cut short when Malo shot off, grabbing him by the wrist. He gave a little squeak of dismay as he stumbled along behind the spirit-boy, his free hand clutched to his head, pinning his hat in place so that he wouldn't lose it. Malo's giggling, however, was infectious and he soon found himself grinning and giggling. It was just a game, after all. He could afford to be distracted for a tiny bit. He'd just tell Dodger there was a long line.

There was almost always a long line, so the furret was bound to believe him, anyway. The thought of lying felt so bad, however. Maybe he'd just not say. He could say that the trip took a while and it was really crowded. That'd not be lying. Nope.

"Is ok!" He blushed slightly as Malo nuzzled his cheek. Physical contact was rare as it was, the carnies weren't big on hugs, so this was even stranger.

"I ain't got no pappy. I been 'atched 'ere an' I live 'ere." He beamed, hardly bothered. This was his home and he was quite used to running the fairly lively streets.

"I don' tawk funny." His bottom lip jutted out slightly, but he couldn't maintain the unhappy expression while Malo mocked the old noctowl. Of course, he couldn't understand even half of what the other said, but he tried to act like he did. He'd never heard words like literature or spectral or studious or splendorific. Oh, wait, he might have heard a ringmaster say the last one, once, but he couldn't really remember.

"Sorry, ain't got no glasses for ya."

And then there came the question. Did he really have time to show the other around? The answer was a resounding "no," but he didn't want to disappoint his new friend, as that was what he considered the ghostly boy, now. Of course, he didn't want to disappoint Dodger, either, and he found himself torn in two. He felt as though telling the other no was out of the question, though, and bit his lip anxiously.

"Yah, I be from 'ere, but I usually be stuck out where d'tents is and what not. I ain't gonna tie you up, though, cos you ain't no doggy. I gotta go 'ome soon, but iff'n we make it super quick..."

How could he say no to that face?

"Wellllllllllll... Okay. But I gotta be gettin' Dodge's mamoswine ears first, cos he'd be right mad iffin' I done came back wi'dout 'em, y'ken?" He most definitely had to bring those back.

"An' you cain't be gettin' in t'way cos us carnies got srs business t'be doin' an' all." He didn't even notice the giggle and sidewise glance, a motion he would eventually become very familiar with in the future. He turned, motioning for the boy to follow. They'd find another food stand, one well away from Preston. It wouldn't be hard, as they dotted all over Clubs. The coins, although few, felt heavy in his pocket and he was eager to get rid of them and get home, so he could have all this extra weight of responsibility off his young shoulders.

"Where you from, anyway?"

"Ain't real mamoswine ears, silly! S'a treat, liiiiiike, like dough what done been fried." He nodded his head in a matter of fact fashion. He shuddered at the thought of some poor mamoswine getting it's ears chopped off, a thought that had never occurred to him before meeting this strange ghost.

"Wot'sa wo-man?" He blinked his large, emerald eyes in puzzlement as he glanced over his shoulder at the little, playful pest. "An' we don' got books where I be livin' an' all, but I seen 'em b'fore. They nice?" It didn't bother him much, at least not at that age, as he tottered along, leading Malo farther from the general hubub, out towards the outskirts of Clubs, where many of the poorer citizens, much like himself, scraped by on a meager existence. It wasn't much, but it was home.

"See? S'mo' fun out onna rides an' stuff."