The sound of children running around and screaching fills the restaurant. The sounds would be overwhelming annoying if it wasn't for his headphones, which blastrock and metal music into his ears.

The 24 year old is lost in his sketches while sitting on a bar stool behind the counter. Deliberately ignoring everyone else since he doesn't get paid enough anyways. His purple button up shirt has it's first 2 buttons open, a nametag over his right chest pocket reads 'Freddy-Fazbear employee -- Mike Schmidt'. It ain't his real name, but why should he care? It gets the job done.

From timw to time his blue eyes glare at the animatronics after they had kept him on his feet all night again. If only he were allowed to dismantle those wretched things. But he can't, because 'the children would be sad'. As if he'd give a shit about those pests.