<div class="floatright">(http://i1354.photobucket.com/albums/q682/Elly-Mae_Hall/5f8b137e-2986-4bb8-b548-e6eaaca53a76_zps8d99c7e7.jpg)</div>Sandra could have guessed, that of all nights, a Saturday... Wayne would go and fuck himself up one way or the other. Not his fault, he was mentally handicapped and shared the same thought processes as a ten year old. She couldn't be mad with him for that... but the situation itself, was aggravating. She figured she had maybe thirty minutes to get show ready and The mongoloid had cut his hand, hard and deep with a butcher knife right across the skin of his placidly pale palm whilst being a very nice kid and washing her dishes. Sandra leaned over his stout figure, red waves falling in tendrils over her face and shoulders as she dabbed at the cut with a wet rag. He was making throaty wails from closed lips, sobbing a little and she did try to shush him with gentle cooes (about as gentle as she could manage, being royally anxious and about ready to go..) but it came time to face facts.. he was going to need stitches and couldn't very well take himself there to get it done. Sandra furrowed her dark brows and straightened into standing, her manicured hands fastened to the concave of her waist covered in nothing at all. She wore strictly casual for now.. she was last to go on, almost always, and had lots of time to get ready in the dressing room. She had a red leather duffel bag heaped by her door with her work gear inside, all ready to go even if she wasn't. The red head reached out and took Waynes chin into her palm, bent at the hips and clicked her tongue. "So we have a little problem, we need to take to the d-o-c-t-o-r" she said, smiling disarmingly with dimpled and tanned cheeks so he wouldn't flip his shit. It helped, and he didn't.<br/><br/>Sandra had made Wayne hold a cloth to his hand as they walked.. many waved and said hello to him, he was a fixture in The Incroyable Parc and many had a hand in taking care of him. Being a moving target (literally, kids shot paint balls at him as a<em>game</em>during the day), most carnies felt the human sympathy that went along with it. Sandra liked him well enough... as much as she could, at least. Not like the two were having any particularly riveting conversations but he wasn't coherent enough to ever be a threat to her, so she could stand his company and he seemed to like hers. Maybe the best relationship she had ever had with a man in her life. The two went back and forth, him asking her questions and occasionally 'accidentily' copping a feel of her high backside wrapped in second skin leather pants. That earned him a smack across the knuckles, milked a tiny painless whelp from him in the process. This went on until the three red and white tents became visible, and he had started to drag his feet. He still followed her though, right up until they passed the entrance of the middle tent, where it was relatively quiet.. not too much action before any of the shows. Mostly after, was when the real drama began and accidents were had.<br/><br/>Sandra shuffled in on flat heeled slouchy boots, dark blue eyes seeking out the imposing figure of Charles Bomban, a secretive little grin touching the upper most corners of her flirtaciously pouty mouth and hitting her eyes. Wayne was afraid of him, and no one really had to ask why. The Medic was an intimidating figure, one of a few here who really piqued her interest with the way he<em>looked</em>.. she tended to veer toward the more freaky sort. If Sandra ever needed medical attention, she damn well made sure she was looking particularly<em>bangable</em>.. but tonight, she was less prepared so.. them's the breaks.