Agatha felt a little disappointed that she wouldn't be of immediate help; such a thing was depressing, but bearable. She did, after all, still have a bit more she could do for the freak show; lay down a bit more straw, make sure that everything was reinforced properly, just in case the volunteer or two she would take were a bit heavy. Her face fell, though she did keep enough enthusiasm to tell Izzy, "<span style="color: purple">Alright, in an hour.</span>" She took note of Izzy's fierce, hateful glance towards Gabrielle and Obscura, the two who'd been flirting up a storm with Cammy. Shy she may be, but Agatha was no fool. Izzy had feelings, and she wasn't able to respond very well to any sort of competition. Agatha determined that it would be a good idea to keep it to herself, and at that, looked to occupy herself for the time being.<br/><br/>Angelo, unlike Agatha, showed no signs of melancholy, and held his arms out with a half-smile. "<span style="color: red">You're more than welcome to call me if you need it. In the meantime, I'll see if I can't help out Enzo here. By the sounds of things, somebody has a pair of pliers over the man's nipples.</span>" He left the scene, following the repeated yelps of "<span style="color: navy">HORSEFEATHERS!</span>"<br/><br/>When he reached the source of the painful racket, Angelo stepped toward the lady, approaching her with a casual, relaxed air about him. He still smelled like nitro. Holding his cane almost lazily, Angel said with gaiety lining his words, "<span style="color: red">Miss, you needn't beat the man to death. He's a friend of mine, and I can deal with him. If he comes back, I'll set his wardrobe on fire, promise.</span>" He nearly sounded like he meant it, but it was said in such a nonchalant manner that it seemed he wouldn't be disturbed in the slightest to do such a thing.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>