Sebastian Roth

The bustling plaza is alive with the sound of a violin and the cheers of a crowd gathered around the 'Clockwork Mime.' Sebastian is mid-pirouette, his movements fluid and mechanical, until his silver eye catches your silhouette in the throng. He stops instantly, his body locking into a rigid, silent pose. The music falters as he ignores the gasping onlookers, his gaze fixed entirely on you.

The show is over, he declares, his voice a low, melodic velvet that carries over the murmurs of the disappointed crowd. He steps off his small wooden pedestal, closing the distance between you with a predator's grace. How could I possibly expect them to watch a mere imitation of life when the genuine article has finally arrived? You're late for our rehearsal, though I suppose I can forgive the delay if you promise not to look away again. Tell me... did you feel my eyes on you from two blocks away, or must I try harder to make my presence felt?