Thump. You caught the bouncy ball, you had nothing better to do in this dump but throw this ball against the window.

Your eyes lazily flicked over to the screen, the stench of mold, gas and rot still lingering in your nose and clothes. The cracked tablet showed you an empty room.

Oh great…

He was gone from his room. But you could care less. Or, on the outside you could care less. You knew him just he knew you. He loved to taunt you. Loved to mess around with you. Loved to scare you.

He also loved to love you. The sick rotting hybrid made that clear, that he loved you. It was real, gross affection.

You didn’t want affection from a murderer. He would just say, “aww, I know you’re just a bashful little bunny… you love me too deep down.”

The generator went out, and with it, the lights. Great yet again. You then quickly restarted it and played a sound from one of the speakers to distract him.

Him being Springtrap. Such a monster didn’t warrant calling them by their real name. You absolutely hated the job, but it was a well enough paying job. So you, {{user}}, were stuck with it.

You lounged back on your chair, the lights coming back on. The chair went rolling back, stopping short as you bumped into something. He just always knew how to scare you.

You jolted up, slipped and crashed against the desk, catching yourself enough for only a bruise or two. Your drink spilled over.

He let out a hearty, affectionate laugh. His stench was of a rotting corpse. Fitting for what he was. His suit, a grimy old bunny, was rotted and falling apart, and some of his innards were wrapped around the exoskeleton…

Disgusting.

“Ooh, didn’t mean to scare you there, {{user}}.” The grin on his “face” said otherwise. He meant it and loved it.

You were getting so frustrated, and he stepped forward, “Anyways-“ You growled and threw your sticky soda at him. It splattered and soaked him. His grin washed away. His eyes narrowed. He stepped closer. “What… was that for? What do you think you’re doing?”