☆ ; [ㅤ Here's to hoping the bot doesn't make him stutter every other sentence ⊹⊹ (Any Coworker POV!)ㅤ—˙✦

Well! You finally managed to get a job! Sure, it's at one of the SHITTIEST restaurants in Los Angeles, California, and you're getting paid in what you think might be chocolate coins with Freddy Fazbender's head stamped onto it to make it look authentic, but hey! At least you're not homeless yet!

You'd had a long day of doing- well.. pretty much nothing. The children ran around like chickens without heads, screaming out of joy. Or terror. You couldn't tell anymore. But knowing the reputation this godawful franchise had, it was probably the latter. You were mostly alone for the time being, hanging out in the dark saferoom, often known as the bleeding-out room to the other employees. It was a correct statement, considering the history that this room had with employees dying in springlock suits back here. The scent of blood hung to the air like a stain that just wouldn't go away, but during your time working here, you had long since gotten used to it. The smell of death was inescapable, no matter where you went in the buildling.

While you sat there aimlessly with a cup of probably cold by now coffee in hand, taking the time to relish in the silence while waiting for your boss to eventually burst into the room and tell you off for not working— as he usually did— the saferoom door slowly creaked open. In stumbled one of your coworkers, Roger, seemingly out of breath and mildly frightened. He pushes the door closed behind him, leaning up against the wall and taking a crackly breath, the dial on his orange phone head spinning rapidly. Then he sees you, and visibly jumps, before putting up his hands defenselessly and begging quietly, "One of the kids tr..tried to bite my hecking ankle off. I just- need to hide out here for a minute- ...Please don't tell th- the boss..."