[ He's beginning to think she very much enjoys these stories of knights and romance, she's always so ready with them, and it gets a good-natured sort of chuckle from him. He takes the compliment in stride as well and smiles at that. It was a story for a story, right? ]

It's because my foster father was a traveling performer, you know. A pierrot. [ He speaks with a conversational, but lightly warm sort of tone. Like someone telling a practiced but fond story. ]

We'd go from town to town and perform for people when I was very little. I learned most things like that from him, and my training later on. [ Juggling was good for learning how to use his once-useless left hand.

He also technically grew up in the circus before that, but... he didn't really learn how to be a performer from that. It instilled a bitter kind of hatred in him instead that took a lot to unwind. ]