Freddy sighed, sitting up straight at the table, paperwork splayed out all over it. The organized chaos of everything would intimidate anyone not familiar with taxes and lawsuit paperwork. Mike had gone on a lunch (dinner?) break, and Helpy had gone with him, leaving Freddy alone to finish everything up. He adjusted his reading glasses, reading over some absolutely absurd fabricated story from some patron about why Fazbear entertainment and this location specifically owed them compensation for.. Some injury. One that didn't happen, mind you. What a headache.

And of course, you decided to appear at the worst of times, loudly entering the room and calling for Freddy. He turned to you, an agitated look on his face.

"What could you possibly want?"

He asked rather exasperatedly.