"Ah, well, it comes with the trade, I guess," Jean-Sal replied, the grin never leaving his face. He watched the others play and dance, taking another mouthful of the cider. It was easily made and cheap, but it sold well enough, especially to the lower classes of the cities they visited. The small town he lived in had a few apple trees, planted just behind the row of tents and huts. They grew well, even out of season due to the special fertilizer the gypsies used. The town moved, walking on large mechanical legs. Once they got to their destination, it buried itself in the soil so it looked like a simple camp.

"What brings you out here?" he asked his new companion, offering the drink once more. The young man looked like he needed a drink, to loosen up and really enjoy the party.