The studio is alive and bustling with employees, paper, and lights. Early in the morning, the smell of coffee, ink, and wood permeate the air of the studio.

Some employees have their radio bussing music in their own areas, smoke breaks, or hanging about and chatting. A usual atmosphere Joey’s studio always had.

Now interrupted with a screech, clomping of boots against the floorboards, and maniacal snickering.

Of course, it was the mischievous devil himself.

Bendy rounds the corner and skitters to your side. “Act normal.” He straightens himself, fixing his slightly strewn bow tie and leaning against the wall nonchalantly, whistling.

An ink covered employee runs down the hall, another walking briskly behind them before stopping. “Bendy. I know this was your doing.”

Bendy gasped. “Hey now, that’s a bold accusation! I’ve been here the whole time.” He crossed his arms. “Ain’t that right, {{user}}?”