>John: Hesitantly answer while looking for a way to escape.
>Gamzee: Crack into the wicked elixir.
Gamzee and John walk through the little tent town, through what John now guesses are more properly Carnies rather than Circus Folk, what with Gamzee referring to the collection of garish tents and their various inhabitants as a Carnival rather than a Circus. John is not entirely sure what the difference is between the two actually, having been only recently introduced to either term - jugglers, bards, and entertainers are a thing back home, but not big troupes like these. He's not even sure he'd really be able to tell the difference even if he had it explained to him.
The atmosphere of the Carnival here during the morning, while there's no performance going on, and not even all of the performance artists are practicing their crafts, becomes a little more relaxing. Maybe not relaxing, but there's at least no sense of genuine imminent danger as he has begun to become inured to the menace of the makeup they wear, and their relaxed and playful manner is almost bohemian - even if the modifier bohemian has no meaning either to John, or to anyone else on the world-island. But it is meaningful to us.
Why do they wear that stuff even while the show isn't on, he wonders? Maybe a question for another time. He doesn't want to get too distracted from the matter at hand, even though he's not really sure what the matter at hand is. The big clown leads him toward a collection of trailers - some clearly meant for habitation, others for storage and transportation - and reaches down into his pants pocket, rummaging around with what sounds like a ludicrous amount of junk for several long seconds before producing a key ring. He flips through them, jingling them as he looks for the right one, and unlocks the trailer, stepping inside. John follows him in.
>Roxy: Search for locations in the city that radiate Dave-like energy.
Meanwhile, Roxy is back on the rooftops, not far from the mysterious bridge cave he discovered minutes ago, thinking about Dave and the outdoors, the smells of the cave having sparked fond childhood memories. Dave's not exactly what one would call an adept outdoorsman - actually he kind of sucked at it until he more or less had to bone up in order to help make ends meet a few?... years ago? Three? Five? For some reason neither of those figures seems right, but Roxy can't quite place his finger on why (it's not four, either.) He shakes his head and tries not to lose track of the Dave energies he's trying to focus on.
>Roxy: Catch a lucky break.
Thump! Is the noise Roxy makes as he appears out of thin air with a raucous bang a lot like a balloon suddenly being inflated to capacity and then exploding. The racket startles the occupant of the nicely-lit, cramped little room that Roxy appears in, causing him to literally jump a foot in the air off the bed he's currently lounging on as though he is made of springs, and then fall to the floor along with a pile of books and papers.