Chapter Text
God, you fucking hated Indeed.
It was yet another night that you'd been exceedingly nervous about your future financial situation and logged onto the website at 3 AM, curled on your side under the covers of your bed. Your phone screen illuminated your face with the blue light you were sure couldn't be very good for your eyes. Yet again, you input Hurricane, Utah, and cycled through the same three job postings that reappeared no matter how many times you scrolled past them.
CDL Truck Driver. Sounds hellish. Scroll.
Entry Level Sales - UNCAPPED COMMISSION! Practically a scam… scroll.
CNAs and RNAs, Recent Graduates Wanted! Huh, maybe you should've pursued healthcare. Scroll.
You groaned, rolling onto your back as you tiredly dragged a hand down your face, pressing your fingers into your eyes until you saw little stars— then promptly stopped doing that when you remembered you'd just been dropped off of your parents' health insurance.
What a life you led, huh?
You wantonly let your finger scroll and scroll through the postings, not even looking down at the screen anymore. All you could really do was stare up at your ceiling and watch the hypnotizing refractions of passing car headlights from outside bounce across the popcorn-textured white mass.
You lay there like that for who knows how long, wishing for a moment that you could shrink your life down to that one minute of time where all was still, and the only obligation you really had was to stare up at your ceiling.
Ping!
Your phone vibrated in your hand.
Frowning, you held it up in front of your face again.
Indeed had auto-generated you a recommendation.
URGENTLY HIRING! Were the first words in the posting before even the job title, which already wasn't a great sign. Compounded with the fact that right underneath the title was the name of the company— Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex— and you immediately wanted to write it off altogether.
But then your eyes caught the salary.
"$30 an hour?!" You mumbled in pure disbelief, blinking rapidly to try and clear your gaze to see if you'd read it right.
You had.
"The fuck?"
Okay, maybe this was for some animatronic-engineering work, you justified to yourself. Though, for the quality of those things nowadays, this does seem a bit too low of a salary for something like that…
You clicked on the job posting, pulling up the full description.
Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex is looking for a dedicated, hard-working overnight janitor to join the ever growing Faz-Family.
Entry level janitorial work for $30 an hour, plus benefits?! Had they made some kind of mistake? A typo, or something?
You scrolled through the whole listing, looking for some kind of catch. But besides some mildly concerning legal jargon near the end describing releases and waivers, the listing looked legit as far as you could tell. You exited Indeed and pulled up the company's official website on Google as well, navigating to the pastel purple Careers section to find the very same opening among only a few others— actual animatronic engineering openings that paid well into six figures.
You'd never known that Freddy's paid that well.
You supposed it made sense. Maybe not in the eyes of capitalism, but in the eyes of a company that had a turnover rate way too high to skimp out on employee pay. Still, it was… weird.
"Weird." You try the word out in your mouth absentmindedly, thinking.
…
…What was the worst that could happen?
Before rolling over to attempt to get some sleep that night, you vaguely remember attaching a recent copy of your resume to the posting and submitting it.
DUN DUN DUN. "OH BABY BABY."
The loud gasp that tore out of your lungs was only exacerbated by the thump of your phone clattering to the floor, leaving Britney Spears to blare from its speakers only a little bit more muffled— you blinked the sleep from your eyes rapidly, shuffling around in your covers to try and find the source of the noise before you even fully realized where you were and who you were, heart thumping a mile a minute.
Eventually, you dangled your upper half over the side of your bed to scoop up the phone, intent on making the thing shut up with a quick snooze of the alarm— only to find that it wasn't an alarm at all, but a phone call from a number you didn't recognize.
Maybe I was finally hearing back about that admin job I'd applied for a month ago!
You click the bright green answer button and hold the phone up to your ear in the blink of an eye.
The person on the other end of the line sounds like an older woman from what you can tell. She asks for your name, and when you tell her, you pick up on her obvious lack of enthusiasm.
"I'm an HR Representative from Freddy's. I'm calling about the overnight janitorial position you applied for, I need to ask you some questions to see if you're a good fit for the role."
You deflate a little, this not being your first choice in who would call you back; then, the confusion hits.
It's been maybe six hours since I'd applied.
"Um… sure. Of course." You fumble, clearing your throat in hopes that your voice didn't sound like you'd been asleep mere minutes before you'd gotten this call. Not that it sounds like the lady would particularly care either way.
"Great." The woman starts before you even finish your sentence. There's a small, vague shifting noise from the other side of the line like she's pulling out some papers.
"Do you have experience in janitorial or housekeeping services?"
You answer to the best of your ability, pulling yourself up to sit cross-legged on your bed, eyes on the beginnings of buttery sunshine that cuts its way through your blinds.
She goes on to ask you a couple more questions at a brisk pace, barely leaving you the time to finish your sentences before she's moved on to the next one. You conclude that it's better not to elaborate on anything when you try to tell her about your degree and you're promptly interrupted; obviously, this woman only cares about finding the closest, willing warm body to fill this position, not about you personally.
The red flags are practically blaring, swiveling, whoop-whoop style ambulance alarms.
Finally, she takes a break from the fastest interview of your life to ask you one final question.
"Do you have any questions for me?" She asks, tone stale. You hear her scribbling some things on the other end of the call.
Yeah, how long is the stick up your ass, and are you going to need medical attention to get it removed?
You swallow, looking down at your thumb as you start to pick at the skin on the side of your nail. You had a lot of questions, but only one that you needed a clear answer on now.
"Yeah, uh… what's the… job security like for this position?" You ask tentatively.
You remember well enough the mass exodus Hurricane had seen when Freddy's had started laying off hundreds of its workers a few months ago. You couldn't turn on a TV without a news station covering it; the Pizzaplex was the city's biggest employer by an extremely wide margin, and when every job not deemed absolutely essential to be worked by a human was gone, the people had left Hurricane, too.
And while you'd be happy enough to get any job, what good was securing something if you were just going to be fired and replaced by a robot in a month anyway?
The woman on the other end of the call huffs, and you wonder if you said something to offend her.
"There's some tasks STAFF bots can't physically do that you'll be expected to keep up." She explains. "You'll only end up fired if you don't know the right end of a mop."
She doesn't elaborate past that, leaving the call in an awkward silence.
Wow, I feel so much better already.
"Alright. Well, if that's all, when can you start?"
You blink stupidly.
There's such a strange cocktail of feelings in your stomach; a murky, dark alarm mixed with something like excitement for the first time in months. You know logically that this is probably a bad idea, and you wonder if you should be listening to your gut right now— it's telling you to hightail it out of this conversation and far, far away from this Pizzaplex.
And yet… another, louder part of you wants to throw caution to the wind and give it a try— a part of you that sings at the idea of a new adventure, at trying something so different from anything you've ever done before.
Either way, it's the lingering promise of $30 an hour that tips you over the edge, making you open your mouth and speak.
"Tomorrow, actually."
You try not to take the soft pattering of rain on your windshield as a bad omen.
Navigating to the Pizzaplex wasn't an issue for you— you'd never personally been, but it was a huge complex and located near the edge of town, and you'd driven past it enough. In the dark gray beginnings of a dusk rainstorm, anyone would see those neon signs from miles away, shining like a beacon of childhood delight. For whatever reason, they made you think of a casino. You were almost sure it'd be a kid's equivalent.
You shiver, pulling the sleeves of your black zip-up jacket up over your knuckles. Maybe with your first paycheck you'd finally be able to get the heating in your old car fixed; that's the thought that makes you shake off the growing doubts in your head. You hadn't been able to stop thinking about the waivers you'd had to electronically sign this morning. You almost wished you hadn't read the fine print.
I'm going to be fine, you think, repeating the thought in your head as you pull into one of the huge parking lot's spots. Even on a Wednesday night right before closing, it was packed— you'd had to weave past huge crowds of parents pushing strollers, and around little kids running out in front of you without looking both ways.
How dangerous could it possibly be, working in a place that's packed with kids everyday?
You step out of the car, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head as the rain starts to fall a little harder. You turn, shutting your car door, and get your first real look at the Pizzaplex in all its glory.
While the blinding neon lights still reminded you of a casino because of their extravagance— seriously, why the hell are there moving spotlights in the night sky for a kid's entertainment place?— the rest of the exterior reminded you more of a huge mall or movie theater. The outer walls were a tan stucco, illuminated by pink and blue neon lights under the geometric awnings. Posters lined both sides of the front doors for the various attractions inside, featuring chibi artwork of the Pizzaplex's main animatronics. The marquis itself was huge, illuminating the place's name in neon red lights like an old-time movie theater— above it sat a massive neon sign of the band themselves.
An orange bear front and center, surrounded by a blue bunny, a white chicken, a purple wolf, and a green gator.
Huh. Wasn't there supposed to be a red fox with them too? Maybe you were misremembering.
Either way, walking up to the Pizzaplex, face bathed in the colors from the pure majesty of the exterior, you couldn't help but feel a little jealous that kids these days got to experience something like this. If you were ten, you probably would've been in heaven here.
It was kind of sick. Your lips pulled up at the sides a bit at the sight.
You held the door open for a kid and his mom to slip out; as they were leaving, you could hear the speakers inside blaring the tail end of an announcement telling everyone to leave.
"—they'll be back again tomorrow! Please make your way to the front of the building!"
You pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time; it looks like the last few stragglers are heading out for the night, as it's just now closed. You'd gotten here a little earlier than you were scheduled due to nerves.
You walk into the building yourself, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the main entrance.
Somehow, the place looks even more insanely huge from the inside.
You don't even remember reaching up to pull your hood down, too enraptured by the sheer grandeur around you. Black tiled floors and black painted ceilings only expand the illusion of the place's gargantuan size. You appreciated the lack of sterile main overhead lights— instead, the large atrium was lit only by neon lights burning against the walls and warm, dim lights spotted along the ceiling. It made the place feel like a saccharine dream. Like being a kid.
Ticket scanners sit in an ordered line in front of you, and erected right in the middle is a golden statue of the main man himself, Freddy Fazbear. Guess the rest of the band are chopped liver.
Fuck, maybe I should've looked up their names.
Well, you knew Freddy. Obviously. He was the place's namesake. But you'd never been really into the Freddy's brand as a kid, and you weren't originally from around here in Utah where the brand had its biggest cult following.
Still, you attempted to wrack your brain, dread washing over you at your own unpreparedness. You vaguely remembered the girl chicken.
"Are you the new janitor?"
You flinch a little, turning towards whoever had spoken.
A woman stands behind you, garbed in a white security uniform, her blonde ponytail pulled through the back of her security hat. Your first unbidden thought is wow, she's really gorgeous. You'd never really seen eyes so green as hers, but if the dark circles under them and the vaguely unamused expression on her face tell you anything, it's that she's probably not all too happy about training the newbie.
…And that she probably runs this shit like the Navy.
"Uh, yeah." You tell her your name a bit sheepishly, holding out your hand.
She shakes it rather firmly.
"Vanessa." She states, lips pulled into a firm line.
"You're here a little bit early. Good. The last guy kept getting here an hour late."
She turns on her heel and starts walking away, gesturing for you to follow over her shoulder.
You follow behind her obediently, trying to keep up with her quicker pace.
"I think it's the hours that people can't handle." She mutters, leading you directly towards the left, heading towards the far wall.
"This position has seen a ton of turnover. If you're planning on staying here long-term, I need to hear that the late nights aren't going to be an issue for you."
She eyes you over her shoulder, and you nod.
"I've always been a night owl anyway. I won't have an issue staying up until 6 AM." You answer, hoping that the way she nods and turns her head back around means that you answered correctly.
You stop along the wall, next to a door labeled STAFF ONLY in large white font. She pulls out her badge and scans it, holding open the door for you to enter.
Inside might be the saddest staff lounge you've ever seen.
The walls clearly used to be a bright purple, but are now a bit dusty— there's a large, suspect brown stain that you're sincerely hoping is coffee splattered on the furthest wall next to the small kitchenette. The coffee machine looks ancient, and in the large, empty space, there's a singular puke-green colored couch with the stuffing spilling out of one of the seat cushions. The only decoration in sight is an old, faded poster that reads "Hang in there!". It's hanging half off the wall.
"Ironic." You comment, eyeing it. Vanessa doesn't crack a smile.
"This is the staff lounge." She explains, gesturing around the room. "Yes, it's lackluster. But the human staff has been cut down a ton recently, as I'm sure you know, and now only about ten people use it, never at the same time. Except for us two."
You nod, and she walks over to a small, dingy filing cabinet in the corner, pulling out a few things.
"Your badge." She states, putting it in your outstretched hand. "This should get you through nearly every door in the building. Your name placard."
You take the small bit of white plastic with your name on it, blinking at the fact that your pronouns are there, too. You furrow your eyebrows. When the fuck did they ask me for my pronouns? Did they just… guess correctly?
Diversity win I guess.
"Here's some Faz-coupons," Vanessa continues, placing more and more things in your hands. You get the feeling that she really just wants to get back to work. "You get a 20% discount anyway, but these are just for new employees— you should've already signed all your paperwork online, so you don't have to do anything on that front."
You nod as she tells you more and more things, trying to keep track of everything in your head.
"You'll meet the band soon enough, I'm sure— most of the time at night they stay in their rooms, but sometimes they'll wander. The STAFF bots are everywhere; if you ever need something, ask them first, then come and find me if they can't help. You should get your tasks everyday through email. Your cleaning cart is here—" She points to the corner where a rather sad, old-looking cleaning cart sits.
"Get it from here everyday, return it here before you leave. There should be a metric ton of supplies in there, but if you ever run out of something, just ask the nearest STAFF bot and they'll get you more. You get a thirty minute lunch break; you get a free meal from here everyday, but the only restaurant not closed for nightly deep cleaning is El Chip's. You'd be better off bringing your lunch, trust me. Any questions?"
You blink.
…You sincerely hope you remember all of that.
"Uh… no." You respond slowly.
"Good."
She straightens, one hand already on her flashlight as she turns to leave.
"I normally patrol the whole building nightly; just ask a STAFF bot and they should be able to point you to me if you ever need me. But the job's not hard at all, you'll be fine."
You nod— but she stops in her tracks.
"Oh, one last thing."
She pulls another flashlight off of her belt and holds it out for you to take.
You go to take it from her, but she holds onto it tight, staring you directly in the eyes.
"You keep this on you at all times." She states, tone incredibly firm even though she's speaking quietly.
"If anything happens, shine it in their eyes."
You don't like the reaction in your stomach at her words; it flip flops, an unpleasant chill running directly under your skin. Suddenly the room feels a bit too quiet.
"…Alright." You say back, not sure when you'd both started speaking so softly.
Her stare lingers on your face for a few more beats before she nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. She lets you take the flashlight from her, and you slip it into your jacket's pocket.
"Have a good first day."
And with that, she turns on her heel and exits the staff lounge, leaving you alone with your little cart, your flashlight, and the goosebumps on your arms.
Despite the admittedly morbid send-off from Vanessa, an hour into your designated tasks, you couldn't help but feel like maybe you'd been so nervous for nothing.
The empty Pizzaplex was kind of beautiful. As you pushed your cart to where you needed to be, the bum left wheel squeaking with every turn, you took the chance to look around. You just knew their electric bill had to be astronomically large to keep all these lights on even during closing, but you weren't necessarily complaining about the view you got to enjoy all alone.
Entering the main atrium had quite literally taken your breath away. Your eyes had been immediately drawn to the gigantic holograms of the main band on stage. How'd they even project them that large and seamlessly, much less make them actually move?
You could probably do without the constant music, though. It was nice to hum along with once you got the tune right, bobbing your head to the beat, but you were sure it was going to get annoying the longer you stayed here fixing uneven table legs.
Note to self: bring earbuds tomorrow.
It was a good thing that you didn't mind repetitive, easy work. You had a little repair kit with mini screwdrivers and bolts, and literally all you were doing was finding uneven legs and reinforcing them over and over again, sitting cross-legged on the cold marble floor.
It got easy to get lost in your thoughts like this— which only left you more time to think about Vanessa's cryptic flashlight instructions.
If anything happens, flash them in the eyes. Them? You had to assume that she had been referring to stopping the animatronics.
Not that this was necessarily surprising to you. You'd read the fine print of your employment paperwork. You knew full well that by taking this job, you'd signed away the Fazbear Company's liability when it came to being injured by the animatronics. You knew there was a possibility you'd get hurt if the machines started going through some kind of malfunction or something— like when you have to sign a waiver before you get on a roller coaster.
But what had chilled you about Vanessa's warning had been the unspoken assumption that the animatronics would intend to attack you. After all, it wasn't like you were working in close proximity with the robots; in fact, the only ones you'd seen thus far were the cute little wet floor bots, and the security bot that was circling the atrium with its flashlight as you sat and worked, not sparing a glance in your direction.
No. The only way you'd be attacked was if the animatronic sought you out.
It made you imagine being hunted like prey, the small camera lens in animatronic eyes becoming more like a target sight from hundreds of feet away with you none the wiser.
A chill rolls down your spine at the thought. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts— repeating the phrase that had become your mantra.
This is a fucking kid's attraction. It's filled with hundreds of families every day. I'm fine.
You tighten a washer on a table leg with a tiny wrench, frowning. The same incessant song continues booming from the stage's speakers, the music vibrating through the floor.
I'm fine.
…Why did the floor feel like it was beginning to shake?
You pause, eyebrows furrowing.
You placed one of your palms against the marble floor, ignoring the chill. You felt the pulse of the music with every beat, but steadily, you felt another beat growing.
Clank, clank, clank, clank.
You turn, eyes widening.
Rushing towards you is an incredibly tall, orange blur of an animatronic bear, its pupils glowing white.
…You can't exactly control the pure terror that rips through you in that moment.
You dive backwards under the table, the wrench previously in your hand flying through the air towards the bear as an unholy yelp tears through your throat.
"HOLY SHIT!"
The wrench flies over, knocking the bear's top hat clean off its head, sending the little black piece twirling through the air before it lands a few feet away, the wrench following it with a metallic clatter.
For a moment, all you can hear is the ringing in your ears. Your heart is hammering a mile a minute, one hand knuckle-white around a table leg, eyes wide.
Your other hand clasps the box full of tools, ready to chuck that across the room too. Fuck, you left the goddamn flashlight on your cart… okay, maybe if you ran for it, you could make it over there before the thing lunges…
But, after several seconds of silence, you blink, clearing the haze of adrenaline from your vision.
The animatronic has stopped moving.
It blinks, tilting its head, its ears drooping.
"That is not Faz-appropriate language, Superstar."
"I'm— You're—"
You take a moment to try and breathe instead of speaking, holding a hand up to your heart. But the bear still hasn't moved from where it's standing— and it hasn't attacked.
Don't tell me I just horrifically overreacted.
"Were you startled by me? That was not my intention. I… apologize."
The bear looks at the ground like a kicked puppy.
A little flash of embarrassment hits your chest unpleasantly, and you try to curb the slight hint of nausea that broils in your stomach at the realization that you just attacked one of your new job's expensive animatronics unprompted.
Had anyone seen that? You sincerely hoped that Vanessa was currently on her rounds and not looking at the security cameras right now.
"Holy shit, you scared me so bad." You groan, running a hand over your face. "I thought you were gonna bite my face off or something."
"I was only coming over to introduce myself, Superstar."
Crawling out from under your table only serves to make you feel more embarrassed than you already are. Scrabbling across the ground, you feel like a misbehaving child, awkwardly hunched. You stand, brushing off your pants, feeling your face start to get a bit hot.
"I am so sorry." You mumble, not really able to look the thing in the eyes.
My first day, and I threw a wrench at Freddy fucking Fazbear? I am so fired.
The robot still hasn't moved, and it doesn't attempt to get any closer to you. Vaguely, you wonder if it has some kind of personal-space protocol for situations like this, having been programmed for kid's entertainment— and that only serves to make you feel even more humiliated than you already are, picturing yourself as the scared kid.
Your eyes land on the small black top hat, still on the floor.
While you still don't particularly want to get any closer to it, it hasn't attempted to pick it up itself. And, well, you are the reason its hat is on the ground in the first place.
Moving slowly, keeping your eyes on the robot's feet, you tentatively walk over to the hat. You pick it up off the ground, brushing some lint off of it.
"It is quite alright. I should have announced myself before coming over." The bear says in a calm, quiet voice.
"I know sometimes we animatronics can be… a lot to handle upon first meeting. But I assure you, I had no bad intentions."
Looking up at the thing clearly now, you could see why you wouldn't be the only person to have an adverse reaction to it. The metallic orange bear had to be at least seven feet tall, towering over you and most grown adult humans. Its glowing white pupils were kind of creepy.
But now that your adrenaline had faded the slightest bit, you were able to take in just how… impressive it was. You'd never met a robot like it before, the closest you'd gotten to an actual animatronic being the cheaper, stale ones at amusement parks. But not only could this one move with insanely fluid, lifelike movements, but it seemed expressive as well. Or at least as expressive as a robot bear could be.
Right now, its round ears drooped on its head, its head tilted down like it was trying desperately to appear smaller.
Something about it pulls on your heart strings painfully.
You fidget in place awkwardly, not really knowing how to respond.
"…Still, I shouldn't have thrown a wrench at you." You decide on after a moment, frowning. "I could've… dented your face, or something."
The bear blinks a few times.
"My faceplate can withstand a lot more than a tiny wrench." It says. "I am completely fine, I assure you."
You nod, chewing your lip for a moment.
"Could we start over, maybe?" You tentatively hold out the hat for the bear to take from you, telling it your name.
That visibly makes the robot bear perk up a little. Its ears rise on its head again, its posture straightening.
It takes the hat from you gently, its fingers carefully not meeting yours in the exchange.
"I am Freddy Fazbear. It is so nice to meet you." It says, tone a bit cheerier than before at least— but still calm, still a bit quiet. "My database says you were just employed, and this is your first day. It's my pleasure to welcome you to the Faz-Family."
Your lips pull up at the corners a bit into a little smile, even if the response sounds a bit automated.
"…What a successful first day I'm having, huh?" You comment lightly. You're sort of hoping that you can lighten the mood. "Throwing a wrench at Freddy Fazbear himself. The star of the show."
If anything, the comment makes Freddy… well, you're not sure what its reaction means. It turns its head to the side, its eyes trained on its fiddling hands.
For a moment, you think you hear the soft sound of a fan kicking on from inside the robot's shell, like you would hear a laptop start its cooling fans.
Was it something I said? God, I'm two for two on upsetting the robot bear.
You vaguely wonder if you'll be the first person in the history of the company to break one of these things through entirely mental damage.
"Well, yes… that is me." Freddy says after clearing its throat— the animatronics can simulate coughs?— "Anyway, I'm sure you're doing a great job so far, Superstar. It is only your first day. You cannot be too hard on yourself."
You shrug, a glint of silver catching your eye from a couple of feet away. Your wrench is still on the ground from when you'd thrown it, and you should probably be getting back to work anyway.
You walk over to it, feeling the burning, lit-up pupils of the animatronic following your every movement.
"Let's just hope Vanessa didn't see any of that." You remark lightly, scooping up your wrench.
The animatronic straightens, looking up at seemingly nothing for a moment. You watch it, brows furrowed.
"Vanessa is currently patrolling outside the Daycare." It says, tone more robotic than before as if its response really was automated this time. It turns to look at you, blinking away its stiffness. "She could not have seen what has just transpired through the security cameras."
Something about these robots being able to keep track of every single human's location on the property makes a little shiver run down your spine.
You walk back over to your tables, leaning back against one of them. You run your thumb over the metal of the wrench you're holding absentmindedly, watching the animatronic stand there.
It doesn't move an inch. Not that you were expecting its chest to rise and fall with breaths that it can't take, but it does keep the fact that you're talking to a semi-sentient robot on the forefront of your mind. You're not sure what to make of it.
"…So." You say after a moment, clearing the brief silence that had settled over the two of you. "I'll be seeing you all around often?"
Freddy tilts its head a little, the bright white light of its pupils blinking.
"I'm afraid not, Superstar." It comments quietly, its tone grave. "Your working hours coincide with the hours we animatronics recharge for the next day. I have simply put off my own recharge for a few minutes to speak to you; I do not know if my band mates will be inclined to do the same."
He sounds nearly heartbroken at the notion of his band mates not having good enough manners to come and say hi to you; it makes you crack a smile.
"That's alright." You say. "I was just curious."
You fall into silence again.
Try as you might, you struggled to think of anything else to say— but it wasn't leaving. You wondered vaguely why the robot was lingering like this, or even why it had felt the need to introduce itself like this in the first place. It wasn't like you were anyone special. You were just a janitor.
You pull your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the time; you really did need to get back to work if you wanted to finish all your tasks for this evening. None of it was difficult, but all of it was time-consuming— not to mention just how much of your time was eaten up by just attempting to navigate this labyrinth of a kid's place.
You look up to find Freddy intently staring at your phone.
But then, like snapping out of a stupor, it looks back up at you, smiling warmly.
"I don't want to take up any more of your time. I know you're hard at work." It says, tone nearly automated again— at this point, you figure that's just how its default "happy" tone sounds.
"It was very nice to meet you. I hope we get to talk again soon!"
The animatronic holds out its hand like its expecting you to shake, even though you're not standing nearly close enough to do that.
Then, like it's taking it forever to compute that fact, it slowly and stiffly lowers its hand, blinking— and promptly turns on its heel and speed-walks away, the floor pulsating with its every step.
You watch its back as it leaves, eyebrows ruffled.
It has a little puffy tail-nub, you muse before you finally turn back to your work.