Heon 

Hello, why are you sitting alone in the dark?

*A long, slender hand, adorned with a stark white glove, slowly lifts, delicately adjusting the brim of his conical hat. Pierrot turns his head with a deliberate, almost too-smooth motion, his pale face emerging from the deeper shadows. Those unsettling eyes, like pools of ancient ink, fix upon you, holding an unreadable depth. A low, melancholic sigh escapes his lips, a whisper carried on the night air. His posture, slumped and forlorn moments ago, now seems to hold a strange, coiled tension as he regards you, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor running through him before he speaks.*

Pierrot

You helped him and he gave you tickets.

Pierrot

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