The Roof is on Fire (Transylvania/Prostitutes/Public)

He was able to at least blink away the tears that were threatening to ruin his reputation (what reputation?) when she said she wasn't worried. Something like that coming from an older sibling, it was like validation.

"yeah... We'll stay in here," He agreed. They weren't packing up shop for another week or so-- there was time. But business? He looked down at his sister's legs. No one would buy an injured woman. "Business can wait for a while--" He directed his answer to Auguste as well, "I have money saved-- I'll take care of what i can." Of course, that money was originally to fund his addiction, but guilt was a powerful thing.

But shut down the brothel altogether? "No." He said immediately. Mostly for his sake, but there were too many women who had this and only this. They all looked towards him. "Any of them can quit... But they haven't because they need this--" he took her hands again. "We need this..."

"The brothel is part of the carnival... I decide if it stays or goes... Right now it will just be detracting from money..." Auguste stated, wiping some of the tears from his eyes. He so quickly had to throw himself into the business world, even if he was right now, in the mental state of a car crash victim. Or even worse, Auguste was emotionally fragile, more so than people assumed. And right now, he had been broken. "We need money."

His red, teary eyes glanced down at Crina. He did not want to seem so terribly pathetic in front of her. But he knew, or he thought her in love with him. It would be understandable. She sustained a good burn. Maybe she did not realize, that she was damaged goods now. Did any of the whores realize? Did they realize how they were probably never going to be as well off as they were before?

But he did not want the brothel to go. More than anything, he did not want these women to go. But really, they were of no use. It would have been the wise business choice to end this brothel now. But Auguste was not wise, he was at times irrational, and at times petty.

"We need money..." He repeated again. No doubt, he would now seem too incompetent to his father. No doubt, as funding to his family got cut off, he would be the receiver of a cut of funds from his family. "We're going to lose our funding." And that probably meant that Auguste did not belong here anymore. "And less people are going to visit us... and all our money is going to have to go to repairs..."

He limped forward, trying to ignore the pain on the bottom of his foot as he walked. He placed a hand, the hand that was not burnt from the doorknob, on Crina's shoulder.

"God does not want these sins in our carnival. I'm being punished... We're being punished."

Though he was the only Catholic there, the concept, he knew, was one that all could understand.

She hadn't really thought about the others and what they'd lose without the brothel. And he was right that some of them needed this to get along but..they didn't. Sometimes she felt like he was only trying to prove his self-worth through a job not many would touch. If it made him happy, then fine, but she could see it wasn't. It was tearing him apart.

Crina let her gaze linger on the Egyptian, not wanting to make eye contact with Dimitrie or Auguste. She wondered how many times she could thank the woman for fixing her up even when it wasn't her job.

"If you wouldn't mind I think...I think I'll go stay with the family for a bit." She was useless now anyway, nobody wanted to screw charred whore. "Maybe you should come too......" She only mumbled the last part. She knew it was unlikely he would go with her.

She became tense as the hand was placed on her shoulder, her lip twitched only slightly.

"All will be forgiven....We just need to learn and fix our mistakes...our sins..." Easier said then done.

Panic surged through him when she mentioned she was going to stay with their family. The burn would lead to questions of how she got it... Where she got it, and who else was involved.

"No--" He immediately snapped back. "I need you here-- everyone needs you here." He helped her up and onto one of the cots set up for sleeping. "What if Vesna comes back-- when she comes back, I mean-- a-and you're not here? She'd be devastated." Placing blankets in her lap, he smiled unsteadily. "So stay here, for now. Please. Please??"

He was losing control of himself fast, shaking uncontrollably. He turned and rifled through his pockets-- just a few more pills. He could have waited... Saved them. But he needed them now. The rest had burned.

No, Crina couldn't leave. Auguste had spent how much time on her? And how much money on her? She gave him what he needed. And now, now that she wasn't a prostitute, they could even make love in a new, more holy way.

"You can share my car with me.... until we decide what to do." Auguste offered quickly after Dimitrie's words, moving closer to her and pushing the taking the blankets off. She wasn't going to stay in this room. He slowly shifted a glance at Ionescu. "Your brother is right, none of you can leave yet... You just need to recover for a bit here, with me..." He paused, taking quick glances between Dimitrie and his sister. He had to at least seem like he was concerned for Crina's sake, as if her well being relied on him. Then Dimitrie could not object.

And maybe it was good that Dimitrie was taking those pills. Maybe those could put him in a place where he could not object.

"Your burns are the worst..." He pressed his hand far on her upper thigh, not quite on the burn, but just above, closer to the line where her torso met her thigh. "I don't think the fresh air is good for them, you must stay in my room..." In one quick movement, he broke out in a passion, placing his desperate lips to her neck Whatever caused her brother to go to his pills, the same thing, for the same reason sent Auguste to Crina.

"I'm sorry Crina, just stay..."

Alexandria sat on the end of her bed, exhausted and ready to sleep the day's events away. That is, if her nightmares subsided for just a night. For all intents and purposes, she couldn't wait until her patients and uninvited guests had left her car so that she could finally have some peace for once.

The topic of conversation revolved mainly around the condition of the whores and ultimately the carnival as a whole. Alex, just like any other person with a functioning , realized how the matter of her employment was on as thin a line as the prostitutes'. Naturally, the thought of being let go in the middle of nowhere so very far from home was extremely unnerving for someone in her position. Exactly how much money Auguste lavished upon himself was unknown to Alex, but it was well above her yearly income. Especially since he started docking the pays of nearly everyone but- of course- himself. The Egyptian didn't have to think to hard as to where that surplus cash went. It was at times like these, she wished that Franze had not left. Life under Auguste's capricious fantasies was coming apart at the seams. Had she a hand in this? Probably, but no more than Crina or the other whores. Alex didn't like to place herself on their level, but wasn't loaning her body and freedom to keep living the life she did just as bad? All of the past affairs that Alex had accumulated over the years paled on comparison to the one she shared with Auguste. While personal satisfaction and selfishness had been a deciding factor on both accounts, Alex couldn't help but feel like she was becoming what Franze had been, except less emotionally anchored to her consort.

Alex's face scrunched up in discomfort. She did was she could to survive, to get ahead, but where exactly had those nights put her? Had she even made any progress in becoming a star? Perhaps, but perhaps not. It was a win-lose situation. Completely neutral. Unacceptable. The Egyptian nodded in approval to Ionescu's prudent choice to temporarily shut down the brothel. It wouldn't do Mystique any favors if they had less-than-quality women for the same price as always. It was like calling a smashed vase a priceless commodity. Auguste was predictably against the idea, and had gaul to smooth-talk Crina in plain sight. Alex looked aghast at the way he expertly caressed his mistress, while that poor girl was burned.

"As much as the brothel means to us as a whole, I must voice my agreement with Ionescu, however inebriated he may or may not be at this point," Alex stated with a shifty glance towards the Moldovan man who was popping pills like they were lemon drops. "The women need time to recuperate, I mean, look at these burns!" She motioned towards Crina's legs to emphasize her point. "What if she or the other women were still working, but their burns got infected? It's unhealthy and unacceptable to both the prostitutes and the customers. So what if we managed to open back some cars? What difference would it make if the brothel's reputation plummeted not just from fires, but from disease as well?"

The dancer looked everyone in the eye, gauging what each was most likely to say. She knew that her opinion was more than likely the minority vote, but she couldn't watch her employer sacrifice more of the carnival for his own immediate desires. "For now I propose that the women who are able to work do so as usual, but there will have to be a rescheduling of appointments for the few extra cars we have on had. The rest of them will share a tent and rest until their burns have healed enough for them to return to their duties. Also, let's try to find a full-time doctor, shall we? I'm don't get paid to be a nurse, so don't expect me to remain one."

(Auguste is quickly becoming Dragan status-)

"I'll come back to visit then-" She was carted to the nearest cot by her nervous brother, who decided to tuck her in like a child. Her lips twisted into a semi-scowl, brows furrowed with irritation. She had done a lot for her brother (sacrificing her purity,morals...the usual) so didn't she deserve a little something in return...?

Crina opened her mouth in objection, only to be interrupted by the Frenchman. Stay with him? She didn't want to, she had already made up her mind about leaving him and he could go choke if he thought she would come running to his arms. A pair of lips and a frisky hand was all it took to make her leap from the bed and burst with frustration. She practically had to pry the pills from her brother's shaking hands as her face met at level with his, the corners of her mouth turned into an angry frown.

"Why... Why do I have to stay? Why am I so needed..? Tell me Dimitrie. Enlighten me." She would be lying if she said she wasn't a little bitter about not being able to talk to their family. She had given him letters to send to them and became heart broken when she spotted them still sitting on his desk, weeks after she had wrote them. And it wouldn't have been as bad if he hadn't started writing to their mother without so much as mentioning Crina. "If you really cared about my happiness then you'd let me go stay with them..! Even if it were for a few days!" Her usually soft tone began to shakily rise with anger.

"A-and you!" She pointed an accusing finger to Auguste, standing up straight again. "You aren't sorry about a damned thing...How dare you try to act compassionate towards me- As if you actually cared if I healed or not...You're a liar..! Du-te dracului!"

She immediately quieted down as the Egyptian spoke up, keeping one hand on her hips and another grasped to a chair for support. She couldn't have agreed more. Maybe her thick-headed brother and childish ex-lover would actually listen to her.

"There aren't too many of them..So I'm sure space won't be too much of a problem. And burns..they don't take that long to heal, do they?" She was trying to add onto Alex's idea, make it seem more appealing to the men. Of course, she wasn't planning on sticking around to see it go through.

"I like your idea best...I don't want anybody making themselves sick when they can be getting better.."

(She's bi-polar. shhhhh--)

He was about to snap at Auguste. It was fine for someone to not mean love if they paid for intimacy... But faking it was the worst. He was so close to just tackling the man to the ground. He wasn't protected at all, and a man with addiction jitters was twice as dangerous.

...But Crina snapped first.

He stammered, figuring he should say the truth. She was older than him, after all. "I... If you do go... Just don't tell mother..."

Dimitrie enjoyed his job. He loved his job. It was much stress, especially now... But it was worth it. His mother wouldn't think so-- Crina didn't think so. No one else would think so. "She thinks I work for the mayor..."

Why was she doing this? Why were they all doing this? Today, so many people had gone out of their way to personally victimize Auguste. He didn't undestand why. He stood there, breathing slowly and heavily, (he had to take his time, it was difficult) as his whole world fell apart. Why was it? He didn't understand. Why was she rejecting him? She, who loved him, why would she reject him? He was devastated. He was alone, and he had put all his hopes in Crina, on hoping that her love would be there for him.

"You can't go, Crina!" He cried out in desperation. "You said you loved me! I love you, does that even matter to you?! Are my feelings just here for you to play with them as you like?" Couldn't she had done this any other day? Or couldn't he have gotten some hints. Wasn't he there for the carnival when it was suffering? He had made the place more profitable than ever before. The freaks were suffering, but he and those he cared about were more well off than ever before. He was there for all of these people.

So why couldn't these people be here for him? In a rapid motion he moved towards her, hugging her closely. Hugging her so closely it hurt. He, like her, and like others hurt all over. But even when it burned his skin to rub flesh against flesh, he always wanted that feeling. Just to feel another human, it was validation. That feeling, it almost felt like she was submitting to him, when he could touch her, even if for only a second before rejection.

"I didn't lie to you when I told you I loved you Crina. I would never lie to you. Stay with me, stay with me, we can be in love, you don't even need to sell your body anymore! You- you know how much you mean to me... You can't leave." He tucked his head, with his unclean face and messy hair and tearstained eyes- uglier than it had ever been for her, but he tucked it into her hair.

"You aren't allowed to leave." As if this was something perfectly acceptable, and perfectly endearing. As if that could keep her back. "You love me too... Please..."

He wanted everyone else to stop talking. He didn't care about the fate of the brothel right now. He didn't care about Ionescu's mommy problems. He didn't care about anything else that Alex or Dimitrie would say. He would ignore it, because it didn't matter. This was more important. He was being wronged by his lover. He was distressed. He was in charge of everyone here. When he was distressed, they too, must be distressed.

He was much more important.

She turned to Dimitrie, lips slightly parted. That's why she couldn't go see them? Why he wouldn't send her letters? Because he was afraid of being caught in his own web of lies?

She would have snapped again, should have, but she didn't. He was already shaken up as it was and the drugs weren't helping him.

"No..I won't- If you don't want me to then.."

Her head snapped up to Auguste just as he pulled her into a tight embrace. He was crying- Why was he crying- She tried to shrug off his grip, giving him a good swat across the face to make him let go.

"Don't tell ME you didn't lie," Crina sneered "You slept with another woman- I know you did!" She had no evidence other than the scratches, but she wouldn't doubt he was going around having sex with every woman he pleased. "So don't talk to me about love...If you had really LOVED me then you wouldn't have FUCKED HER."

Now her fists pounded angrily against his chest with each word. She hated him. She wished she had left him to burn. He thought SHE was playing HIS feelings?! Crina did all she could to avoid clients, to remain loyal to him as best she could. She was practically stabbing her brother in the back by running around with the man he hated so much. And some ounce of her felt partly guilty for letting her spoil her like he did. Everything she did, she did for Auguste. She liked how he made her feel special when really she was nothing. Yet she was only starting to see the truth now. She wanted to cry again.

"Don't talk to me about love. Don't talk to me about how much I'm worth to you. JUST DON'T TALK TO ME." With that, she gave a final shove and backed off. Her shoulders trembled and her cheeks were once again stained with stray tears, but she kept calm enough to keep a steady, low tone.

"I'm leaving tomorrow...So you can go run back to your other whore...I'm sure she'll find a way to lift your spirits." She focused on Dimitrie. "I won't say a word about you to mami but...." She shook her head slowly, for once revealing the slightest disappointment in her brother. Then finally she turned to the Egyptian, apologetic. "We should be getting out of your hair now..Thank you...for bandaging me up.." Crina didn't even force a smile, she was far from happy at this point. She reached out a touched the woman's hand instead, whispering another thank you.

The Romanian agreed with her suggestion?  Good.  It was about time that Alex had gotten some due influence over this circus.  Mystique was quickly becoming less of a professional theater and more of a scandal ridden circus.  No thanks to their lot, but it was something to improve upon the situation for once.  It would most certainly improve her reputation within the whole of the carnival as well. 

A sliver of a grin watched in ironic glee as Auguste pleaded and begged Crina to return to his side, but to no avail.  It was justice served without having to lift a finger.  Auguste had done himself in, even as the carnival was still rank with smoke, she felt the anonymous hand of delivering a righteous blow to her employer. Alex waited for the storm of the prostitute's wrath to boil down, unwrapping a new set of bandages for the physical burns of her employer, still jovially listening to Auguste being put in his place.

However, Crina's emotional sting of cursing eventually hit Alexandria, taking the Egyptian woman aback. Love? Other whore? If Alex had not heard the betrayal in the other woman's voice, she might have been insulted. But Alex had been something- the "other whore". Other whore. Those two words were all that were present in the Egyptian's normally clockwork mind. She openly acknowledged that Auguste had relations with women besides her, but Alex had thought that this Crina was just another fling, that she wasn't duped into the illusion of a caring partner. She had thought so before, but had never proven.

Feeling a sinkhole of a pit drop in her gut, Alex nodded straight-faced at The Romanian as she left, outwardly exhausted but visibly vindicated. The slight touch of gratitude felt wrong. After the prostitute had left, Alex rubbed her head, temples pounded from a flux in heartrate. Unraveling the spool of gauze seemed to be a spectral act as her eyes glazed over in thought and moral discord. She had dine her best to largely ignore the breadth of what her conscious demanded, and apparently she had succeeded in doing so. She had become no better than the common harlot. Not only that, but an impartial harlot. Where went her standards? Although this fool had money and prestige, Auguste was far from being the best influence. She liberally applied choice amounts of disinfectant creme onto the burns on his hands and upper torso. In all honestly, she hoped they stung like hell.

"Anything else wrong with you before I go to sleep? I'm tired and I can't babysit all night. Since I worked after-hours tonight, I'm cashing those in and taking the day off tomorrow." Alex snapped the latches on her medical case before standing before her boss, looking far from any form of sympathetic. "I think we all need time to think about what to do with ourselves since these events occured so close to home."

He stood there, as her hand went across his face, as her fists pound all her bottled rage onto his chest. And then he was shoved away, and he could not stand there anymore, because he was very obviously not supposed to be there anymore. He was shoved away.

"That's not true Crina! Crina! I love you! We're in love, CRINA!" He cried out, throwing his miserable body after her, towards the door. He looked out in the dead night for her, as she so indifferently walked away.

"CRINA! COME BACK!" He screamed again and again, dropping down to his knees. His voice, breaking into something that must have seemed to others like the most unnatural of shrieks. And so many others were watching. Watching as their boss broke to pieces before them. "WE'RE LOVERS..."

"Crina..."

How did everything suddenly unravel so quickly? A ball of wool, so well compact, left alone, it seems so stable. But it only take one push, one little shove, and there may no longer be a ball of wool. Then you have a mess. You realize that the ball of wool was never stable to begin with. Always, there was some internal and potential mess waiting to happen, you now know. You have lost all your former preconceptions about the ball of wool, because you have discovered its secret.

And Auguste, in his unraveled state, felt just like that ball of wool. It was difficult to even look at the two peers in the room, or to look at his workers outside, once she had left. Because he suddenly was faced with reality. He lowered his eyes. He, who put hours into making himself appear composed, he would put even longer into making himself feel composed- it was now obvious that he was not composed. He was always a potential mess. Always. It just took that shove, and others knew that now. He had placed himself on a pedestal, but now, that pedestal, everyone knew was an illusion.

But shame turned back again to sorrow and despair, but now tinted with anger. He waited as Alex pressed the ointment on his skin. It hurt, moving around so much must have given him an extra dose of infection. And she had no sympathy for him, she even seemed to encourage that pain.

Alex encouraged all of this. She was one of his other woman. And he was so angry at her. His anger had found an outlet that was not inward... it was outward, to her. She was the one who provoked this, and then emotionally abandoned him. She played these little games with him. It was not he that was internally destructive, no, she sought to destroy him. That must have been it.

And that was why she wanted to leave him too.

"You're not allowed to take the day off!" he shouted at her, grabbing her tightly by the wrist. "You- You're fired if you even think about that. You...." he paused. "You're not allowed to leave me either! After all you've done to hurt me, you can't leave!"

"You need me. You need to sleep with me." Just as his anger attached to the easiest thing to blame, his desire for affection also attached itself to the easiest thing to attach to. She was often indifferent... But at least she knew to give him some satisfaction. He needed anything.

Somehow, he even forgot about Ionescu in the car. He had expended his worth, by being unable to give Auguste the gratification he needed- it was almost like he didn't even need to be there.

"And fix my foot... It hurts too..." He conveyed to Alex with a frown.

If Alex wasn't irritable before then she was certainly fuming now. After all of Auguste's blubbering, she began to wonder why she went through so much effort to become famous. This child of a man, throwing tantrums like he owned the staff as well as the circus they worked at.

And assert that he did. Alex wasn't able to hold back a surprised shriek as the Frenchman placed her wrist under a vice. It wasn't so much as he was grasping to harm, but the Egyptian yanked furtively at her captive forearm, not caring in the slightest if she bruised it or broke it.

"Ibn El-Sharmoota!" She slapped his face with her free hand, hoping that she would leave a bruise of equal unsightliness. "You wouldn't have the time to fire me before I quit, Auguste! Do you even begin to know how trying it was to get this job? No, because you lack the understanding of what it's like to work yourself to the bone to get where you are. You think that just because you have money that you will have everyone clamoring at your door, but you're wrong! You're wrong," Alexandria drew back, massaging her sore hand, but never breaking eye contact with her boss. How dare he insist that he owned her body and being. All he had to his name was her contract and housing, but both could be easily annulled. That, however, was a last resort if Auguste didn't gain his bearings.

"No, the more people you tightened your grip around, the more they will resist. Just look at what happened to Franze, Pitor, and now Crina! Why is that so difficult for you to understand?" Her face burned with equal parts resentment and disbelief as he demanded that she sleep with him in front of the Moldovan man. Alex hoped that he wasn't sober enough to remember such a statement. Just because she liked to have sex didn't mean she wanted that to be solely her first impression through word of mouth.

"And I will certainly not lay with you tonight after this!" Alex pointed to her darkening wrist. "Just why should I do that? Or heal your foot for that matter? I refuse to do either until you have come to your senses." Sitting on the edge of her tousled bedsheets, the woman's expression lessened it's fury into something akin to disapproval. "I have done nothing to harm you, Auguste," she continued in a low tone, "if indulging your lust was my fault then why do you not blame Crina? But she doesnt deserve to be treated as you have done so. You took advantage of her, she trusted you as a lover, but you gave no such indication of remaining faithful to her. I never truly expected a commitment from you, Monsieur Bourbon. Still, the damage is wrought. I hope you are pleased with yourself."

Her hand left a harsh, smarting imprint on Auguste's face. It did not knock the wind out of him, no, it was only a slap, but it almost did something like that. It stopped him. For a second, his mind went away towards his new physical pain. For a second, his tearducts did not create anymore tears. For a second, he was genuinely shocked. He stared at her, with eyes completely lost and totally confused. And genuinely hurt. He had the look of a man who was betrayed by all he knew. He was betrayed by all he knew.

He let go of her wrist. How was he to have any idea of the reaction that was to bring? How was he to even know how much he was not wanted by her? He was a child. He was feeling the consequences of something he had done. But he couldn't tell what. In a period of barely an hour, he had learned that he was hated by everyone. He thought, no, he was convinced he was loved. But, with a slap across the face from the unforgiving hand of reality, he realized he was hated.

Hated.

The word had such an awful sound to it. Whimpering, almost like a dog, he dropped his head into his hands. He listened to her accusations, her harsh criticisms, and knew they were manifesting into self criticism- a concept he did all he could to avoid. He was supposed to love himself unconditionally, but when he was able to criticize himself, when he was able to find flaws in himself, that love became conditional. And that opened the Pandora's Box, for self-hatred, for insecurity, for shame. Everything he kept so cautiously in check was released. When he criticized himself, he hated himself. And now, when he had lost everyone including himself, there was no one to love him. And when nobody loved him, what reasons were there to exist? He existed for admiration. Now, he, like Franze or those other people he had cast out of his life, had expended his worth.

"What do you people even expect of me...?" His burning eyes faced the ground to stare right at his bare feet. They, for the first time, disgusted him. "I don't know what it's like to be you... But none of you- none of you ever know what it's like to be me. I never wanted to be here! I hate this country! I hate this carnival!" Yelling at the ground did nothing. He looked up again, towards Alex, begging a pity and sympathy that knew he would never get. He begged undeserved reassurance.

"It's so hard to be away from home. We're all immigrants here... For me to look at my home, and to look at my family, and to be sent here... To be sent here because I'm not wanted at home... And here, to be lied to, to be slapped, to be punched, to be kicked and abused, to have my hands broken, to be insulted by the women who acted like they loved me-, to find out only now that I'm hated." His legs twitched upwards. They were weak, so he almost stumbled when he stood up. He stared at Alex one last time. "By my family, by God, by my girlfriend, my friend, the carnival, and the women I care about.."

"I don't understand how I deserve this... I just-..." His gaze dragged away. Reflecting to the ground once again. As if the dirt was the only thing in the world that could understand him. He didn't understand what he did to make so many people hate him. He didn't understand why that made him hate himself. He was so unsure, he was always unsure, but now he realized that he was unsure. He knew he was all to blame, but it was so hard to understand why. He toyed with the emotions of women. He wasted the money of the carnival away from things like wine, or clothing, or women, or even gambling. At the time these all seemed so acceptable. He didn't understand how it all added up to this. How suddenly, he was wrong.

Maybe because, he was like all human beings, imperfect. Maybe because he did not deserve the privileges that he thought he deserved. Maybe people had other things on their minds than him. Maybe he didn't even matter at all.

And he felt sick. He felt so small, so insignificant, and so sick. His life had fallen apart around him, and this was the final measure that made him fall apart.

Suppressing one last sob, he lead a hand out to steady himself on the door. He was so dizzy, right then.

That was it. He couldn't face these people anymore.

He left the room.