With a titanic yawn, Virgil woke up from his sleep. Turning to his clock, Virgil was slightly annoyed that he had slept for most of the day and it was almost time for the show. Giving a low bellow of displeasure, Virgil got up and stepped out of his tent before heading to dinner. His feet stomping the earth underneath his weight as he made his way to the tent but before he entered he stopped, changed his mind, and turned around. He had forgotten an important "morning" ritual, his cigar. He had heard it all before but he didn't care, coffee and cigars would be his vices and damn whoever told him otherwise.
Reaching his tent once again, Virgil dug through his box before he found his
coffee mix and began to heat up the pot/mug. Soon enough the kettle began to whistle and Virgil poured the piping liquid through the machine. It wasn't the most high tech method but it was the one he preferred, no little thing like electricity is going to get between him and his coffee. Piping hot liquid darker than the deepest pits of hell in hand, Virgil lit his cigar before heading back to the tent.
Once he entered the tent, Virgil took stock of the whole situation. The furry runt was tearing into meat, many of the girls were sitting together, the boss was nowhere he could see, and Cheyenne was on the trapeze. Giving a grunt, Virgil blew a giant vent of smoke from his maw before gulping down his chosen poison. Stepping over to his specialty stool, a simple thing made of steel, Virgil sat down and said "When the show start" in a voice more gravelly than a dirt road.