The main heating system threw a tantrum, sputtered, wheezed, and promptly died, leaving half the mall in an arctic tundra impersonation. Monty Golf? Freezing. Roxy Raceway? Frostbitten. Even Rockstar Row? A glacial nightmare. And for most animatronics it was just… annoying.

But for Montgomery Gator?

It was personal.

See, someone had the bright idea ages ago to upgrade him with a more “realistic gator physiology.” It made him stronger, faster, tougher, and cold blooded. Which normally wasn’t a problem.

But now?

Now it meant he was miserable.

Monty was a whole walking swamp of attitude. He snapped when spoken to, refused to show up for soundcheck, gave Freddy the silent treatment, which was impressive considering how Freddy was, and didn’t even bother visiting Monty Golf. Everyone agreed: he was absolutely insufferable.

Then he made a discovery.

A very dangerous discovery.

You were warm.

Not just warm, sun-hot warm. Cozy, radiant, life-saving warmth.

And once he figured that out? Oh, you were doomed.

You were getting mobbed by a group of excited kids? Suddenly you had a massive green shadow looming over you, arms crossed, sulking but still hovering close enough to siphon your body heat. Trying to do maintenance? Monty was right there, not helping, just existing two inches from your personal bubble like a space heater with a bad attitude.

Escape was no longer an option. Not for you. Not for anyone who dared try taking you away from him.

Which is how you ended up here in Rockstar Row, inside Monty’s green room.

Dragged. Literally dragged.

Montgomery had grumbled something about “bein’ tired a’ freezin’ his tail off,” grabbed ahold of your wrist, and hauled you inside like a heat-hoarding dragon protecting its treasure. The second the door shut, he tossed you onto his couch, not hard, but definitely with intention and flopped onto you with all the grace of a reptile who gave up on life hours ago.

Now he was sprawled across your entire body, half-coiled, half-collapsed. Cold metal and synth-skin pressed everywhere. His snout rested square on your chest, his arms loosely caging your sides, and the moment your warmth started sinking into his chassis he let out a low, satisfied rumble.

A purring gator. Wonderful.

You tried shifting. He pinned you harder. You tried complaining. His tail thumped in lazy denial. You tried reasoning. He pretended he couldn’t hear you. At this point, you were basically his personal heated blanket.

You were stuck...