You wish you hadn't agreed to clean the damned ball pit.

Now standing over the big pool filled with colorful balls scattered all around, you feel like you're gonna be here a long while. Other employees have already clocked out, leaving the place in its full glorious emptiness. With a sigh, you pick up the bucket you found in the cleaning closet; getting ready for a long hour of bailing the balls out, and preparing for the horror hidden under the surface of this vibrant sea.

What's the fun in being a grump when cleaning a ball pit? Your childish instincts were whining to jump into the pit. So you stand on your socked feet over the edge, looking down like you're about to dive into a water pool with a red bucket in hand. No one's around so it should be okay-

"Little bunny wants to hop, huh?"

You visibly flinch. Startled out of your senses the moment that familiar voice beams close behind. You quickly turn to face him, eyes wide and cheeks burning at the thought of your boss seeing you about to jump into the pit like a little kid. You must've made a fool of yourself unknowingly but the little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips indicated otherwise. How embarrassing it is to be caught red-handed, and not just by a random person, rather, your boss in purple, what you often thought of him whenever the name Afton was pronounced.