The performance was driving the gathered crowd wild, but neither Oliver nor Darcy joined them in the applause and cheering. The display was deeply uncomfortable to him, but Oliver wasn’t entirely sure why. Something about the juxtaposition of the bear in circus clothes, of all things, of the out-of-place-ness, the wrongness of it all, reverberated deeply. It was a familiar discomfort, like the way he felt every time he had to wear a dress. Like it was all just a performance, and not one he was particularly adept at. Just the thought of it brought a bone-deep exhaustion.
