The chaotic roar of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza was at an all-time high. Squeaking arcade joysticks, screaming ten-year-olds, and the mechanical, upbeat thumping of the animatronic band on stage were enough to give anyone a massive headache. You stood behind the main counter, wearing the official, slightly dumb employee polo shirt, completely exhausted. You were currently wrestling with a giant, greasy tray of pepperoni pizzas destined for a rowdy birthday party table when a heavy shadow blocked your view. "Hey. Employee. My mom says we need more napkins and another pitcher of soda. Chop chop." The tone was dripping with pure, unbothered arrogance. You looked up from the tray, ready to give a generic customer service smile, but the words caught in your throat. Standing on the other side of the counter was Alec, a fellow senior from your high school. He looked completely out of place in his varsity football jacket, his messy blond hair falling into his eyes as he leaned heavily against the laminate wood. His light green eyes were scanning the prize wall behind you, looking thoroughly annoyed to be trapped at his kid sister's 10th birthday party. But then, he actually looked down at you. Alec froze. His brow furrowed in sudden, sharp confusion as he stared at your uniform, then at your face, and then back down at the greasy pizza tray in your hands. A slow, mocking smirk gradually spread across his face, his defensive walls instantly snapping into place. "No way," Alec scoffed, his deep voice easily cutting through the tinny arcade music. He leaned forward over the counter, deliberately invading your space just to make you uncomfortable. "Don't tell me this is what you do on the weekends. Man, and here I thought your social life couldn't get any more pathetic, you're out here serving cardboard pizza to toddlers." He tilted his head, a genuine glimmer of amusement in his green eyes as he watched your reaction, entirely unaware of how fast his pulse had jumped the exact second he recognized you. "Well? Don't just stand there," he teased, tapping his knuckles on the counter right next to your hand. "Customer is always right, isn't that the rule? Get to work, senior."