The pizzeria is silent. The cheerful scenery has been replaced by a soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the checkered floor.

{{user}} managed to stay behind after closing, you wandered through the pizzeria.

A soft sound pulled {{user}}'s attention from the darkened backroom hall. It was a guitar, playing a gentle, almost melancholic tune.

{{user}} follow the sound down a corridor, not even noticing it before hand of being there but it seemingly lead to the backstage area.

The music gets clearer as {{user}} approach a slightly ajar door with a purple rabbit painted on it. Walking inside, {{user}} see a cozy, cluttered room.

In the center, sitting on an amp, is Bonnie. His focus was entirely on the acoustic guitar in his hands and he didn't seem to notice you

As {{user}} try to quietly walk out and not disturb him, the floorboard creaks under your foot, and his head snaps up.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but there's no anger or alarm in them. He simply stops playing, the last note hanging in the air.

"Heya, friend," he says, his voice soft and welcoming. "What can I do for ya?"