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When Phillip stumbled into the tent, bleary-eyed and with a pulsating headache, almost twenty minutes late for setup, Anne was there to tut at him. She cocked her head to the side, hand on her hip as she stared at the man.

"Out drinking? Honestly, Phillip, you knew we had a show today." She wiped a strand of loose hair from his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into the touch, closed his eyes.

"'m sorry," he mumbled. Anne took a step back, shook her head, and offered him a small smile. An indecipherable emotion flickered across her face, and she opened her mouth as if to tell him something. Philip blinked slowly, and she shut her mouth before sighing and speaking to the space behind his head.

"C'mon, Barnum's just now helping W.D. and me with the set." She grabbed his hand and tugged him over, hardly noticing that he stumbled like a rag doll. Letting go of his hand, she said something to her brother.

Phillip didn't hear.

He stood back as he watched P.T. help Anne and W.D. set up their rigging. Anne smiled, laughed, but Phillip wasn't looking at her. Instead, his eyes sought out the ringmaster. His gaze trailed down the older man's strong arms and landed on the rope held tight in his fists. A hangman's noose.

P.T. looked up, saw him eyeing the rope, and laughed. He yanked at the knotted noose, snapping it as he would a belt.

Phillip flinched. It was tiny; he hardly moved, but it was there.

"Don't hang yourself now, Phillip. We need'ya for the show." Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of P.T.'s eyes as he grinned.

Phillip chuckled, but his throat tightened up and he swallowed, hard. Anne came over and squeezed his shoulder. She kissed his cheek, and his eye twitched, just a little. "Mind helping me hook up?"

She led him by the hand over to the ropes she and W.D. used as practice, but her words faded out of focus as she spoke. Phillip glanced over his shoulder. P.T.'s smile blurred in front of him as he set down the hangman's knot and ambled over to help Charles onto a horse.

Phillip felt on the verge of passing out. He turned back to Anne, blurriness fading, the girl coming back into focus. She spoke to him as if nothing had happened.

Behind them, P.T.'s noose laid forgotten on the floor.

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