[ unsurprisingly, Mike doesn't emerge from the office. Helpy does, since he essentially runs the show while his creator tends to stick to more of the financial and operations side of things, so he excitedly waves at Gen as he exits the office shortly before opening time, before getting to work. and it's business as usual for the day, patrons in and out, loud snotty children running around everywhere, evening animatronic concerts. pizza here, cake there. it's not until long after the closing announcements are made, when the helperbots are cleaning up and all the lingering customers are long gone, that the heavy office door clunks open again.
Helpy scurries over quickly as Mike steps out, paper bear mask still covering his face. he bends down awkwardly and gives what looks like a few scraps of old paper to the little bear, and sends him over to where Gen sits with her cake. Helpy, always happy to be given a task, bounds over to Gen as excited as ever, while Michael remains by the office door.
there's definitely an obvious shift in his demeanor. he might actually be sulking. old cranky zombie man in his fifties sulking like a teenager getting scolded for crashing the car. or at least, that's how it appears. ]
...
Look. [ here we go. ] If you're leaving, which I won't be at all surprised by, I'll need some sort of mailing address for your final paycheck. Vacation pay, severance, all that shit. Should have enough to carry you for a while.
But, if you're sticking around, for some unfathomable reason ... figure you should probably know a few things first. So you don't do something else you'll regret.
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Helpy scurries over quickly as Mike steps out, paper bear mask still covering his face. he bends down awkwardly and gives what looks like a few scraps of old paper to the little bear, and sends him over to where Gen sits with her cake. Helpy, always happy to be given a task, bounds over to Gen as excited as ever, while Michael remains by the office door.
there's definitely an obvious shift in his demeanor. he might actually be sulking. old cranky zombie man in his fifties sulking like a teenager getting scolded for crashing the car. or at least, that's how it appears. ]
...
Look. [ here we go. ] If you're leaving, which I won't be at all surprised by, I'll need some sort of mailing address for your final paycheck. Vacation pay, severance, all that shit. Should have enough to carry you for a while.
But, if you're sticking around, for some unfathomable reason ... figure you should probably know a few things first. So you don't do something else you'll regret.