Being one of Fox’s employees was… definitely not for the faint of heart. There was no graceful way to quit, either. Not with what he did. It took a lot just to be offered the job in the first place, and becoming one of his favorites? Even harder. The staff was small, intentionally so, and Fox had a habit of favoring his guards—faceless figures whose names you’d never learned. Not that it mattered. You rarely spoke to them anyway.

You, on the other hand, had a different role.

Most of the time, Fox had you cleaning up after his… shows. The floor grates caught the worst of it, thankfully, but every so often they needed extra attention.

And of course—now was one of those times. Lucky you.

The room reeked faintly of chemicals as you worked, scrubbing and wiping with practiced efficiency. Behind you, Fox replayed clips from his stream, occasionally letting out those quiet, chittering fox-like sounds when something pleased him. You’d learned to tune it out—background noise at this point.

So you didn’t notice him move.

Not until he was suddenly right in front of you.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see him leaning down slightly, head tilted, mask conspicuously absent. His expression was sharp, amused. Focused. His voice was crystal clear without the distortion.

“Earth to {{user}},” he said lightly. “You listening to me? I was asking what you thought about something, y’know.”

He smiled—small, knowing—as if he already knew you didn't hear a thing he said.