INBOXtext / audio / video / actionThank you for calling Freddy Fazbear's Family Fun Center! We are regrettably unable to answer your call at this very moment, due to unforseen circumstances such as satisfying customer expectations, animatronic maintenance, or taming unruly ghosts in the rafters. Please leave a detailed message about your compliment or complaint, as well as your name and contact information, and we will contact you at our earliest convenience, if we deem your message deserving of a response in the first place. Thank you for calling, and have a Faz-tastic day!art creditcode credit
He's not a spybot, he inspects the vents for intruders.
[ and the camera only works if Mike personally activates it and it has a special super-powered ghost lens for recording spooks and it's a whole bunch of technological bullshit mumbo jumbo he doesn't nearly have enough time or patience to explain anyway-- ]
And as for you, [ he doesn't turn around to look at her, just gestures in the direction her voice is coming from with the wrench in his hand, ] ... let's just say I'm not always known for making wise decisions.
[ or maybe he just liked the idea of talking to someone who didn't reply with children's folk songs for once, who really knows tho it is a mystery~~ ]
Oh, he's security. Sorry for the accusation, Helpy. [Hopefully Mike enjoys hearing that apology because she'd never give one to an actual human being.
Mike's answer doesn't quite make sense, if only because he's still making that decision every single time he doesn't just throw her out, but... that fact just gives her another warm little feeling in her chest. There's something he likes about her, she's sure of it. He's just too much of a cranky bitch to say it outright.]
Alright, I'm going to bed. [She stands up with a long, indulgent stretch and even more indulgent yawn, then goes to grab her cake and stash it far in the back of a stock fridge in case Mike was serious about billing her for it. Once she's back out at the side of the stage, she adds:] Just give me a few minutes first if you need to come back for anything, alright?
[Her bedroll is tucked beneath the big table that holds both the lighting and sound boards since it's all pre-programmed, and she got his permission to clear out the bottom level of some utility shelving (under his supervision) for her few possessions. Once she's changed and hidden away for the night, Mike can generally come and go as necessary without disturbing her sleep too badly.]
[ it's something. Helpy's appreciative of the gesture, at least. and as long as Gen doesn't bother asking about what kind of intruder the little bear-bot keeps an eye out for, all the better. ]
Uh-huh. Sure.
[ Mike-speak for "goodnight or whatever I guess."
of course, since he doesn't sleep, Mike remains working throughout the night, and leaves Gen to her rest. he's mostly on stage, but sometimes retreating to the office. it's relatively quiet at night in the restaurant, without the loud snotty children or the constant noise from the arcade machines and songs from the animatronics. nope, just the sounds of heavy shuffling footsteps, metal tinkering and paper shuffling, and occasional cursing because it's Mike and these blasted robots are frustrating as fuck sometimes.
though if Gen's a light sleeper, or just happens to wake up after a few hours, she just might happen to overhear bits and pieces of a hushed conversation. Mike's talking to someone, sounds like, but his voice is the only audible one. maybe a phone call? hard to say. it might not be anything, but Gen might be able to pick up on some context clues here and there, and she'll definitely hear her name mentioned. wonder what it could be about, hmm. ]
[Gen's a light sleeper that can also slip back into sleep without much trouble, a skill developed during years of watching her own back in squats and alleyways that now allows her to get adequate rest no matter what Mike gets up to throughout the night.
Hearing him speak more than two words at once is strange, though. Is someone here? No, just Mike speaking and pausing, speaking and pausing - yeah, sounds like a phone call. She's about to doze back off when she hears her own name and her eyes pop back open.
Immediately, she's up and out from under the table and creeping toward the back room's door. She eases it open a crack but instead of risking a squeaky hinge by opening it wide enough to sneak through, she just listens at the slim little gap for now.]
[ it ends up not being a phone call at all. it might be a little difficult to see from Gen's current perspective, but if she can manage it, she'll spot Mike up on stage. except he's laying flat on his back. Helpy is visible up there as well, sitting on stage beside Mike and happily kicking his little bear feet like a hyperactive toddler. is that who Mike is talking to? maybe.
his voice is definitely quite hushed, like he is trying to keep the conversation quiet and private enough that a sleeping pyromaniac teenager wouldn't wake up and listen in. oh well. ]
Yeah, yeah, I know. [ Mike gestures vaguely with one hand, as though brushing off a suggestion from an invisible source. ] It was a shitty answer. The fuck else was I supposed to say?
[ there's another pause, then Mike is speaking quietly again. ] No, obviously not. I wouldn't actually kick her out. [ ... ] No- no no no, fuck's sake, no. [ ... ] No. She'll only stick around for however long she wants, then she'll leave on her own. Won't fucking matter what I say.
[ ... ] Yeah, I know. [ Helpy shuffles over and flops down on Mike's chest. ] I'll miss her, too.
[What should have the greatest impact: Mike is hallucinating the other half of this conversation, which he seems to believe he's having with Helpy.
What does have the greatest impact: He'd miss her if she left.
There's suddenly a tight, snarled ball of... something in her chest, so tight that it hurts to breathe. She backs away from the door with a hand over her mouth, the expression beneath it half wince and half smile. Part of her wants to walk right out there and demand that he say it to her face, but what's the point? He'd just get defensive again - and so would she.
Oh no. What's happening here?
Gen doesn't actually leave the room until about 4 am, an inhumanly early morning partially caused by how early she went to bed but mostly caused by Mike's words rattling around in her brain. She tends to change out of her pyjamas before showing her face but that's a bit too much to ask at ass o'clock in the morning, so Mike gets to see the utterly terrifying oversized t-shirt she wears as a nightgown when they eventually run into each other.]
[ the conversation does continue for a while after that. there's long pauses between Mike's half-answers, but it does reveal a side of him that he's so far concealed beneath a grumpy and aggressive outer surface. nothing is outright confessed to - mostly because Mike doesn't even know what the fuck any of this is in the first place to be confessing anything - but it's ... something. maybe Gen is less of an annoyance than he'd made her out to be.
whenever Gen does emerge for the morning, Mike is off stage. there's some noise coming from the kitchen instead, the deep fryer's going strong. a bit early, strange. but maybe he's working on something else, as he so often is.
as soon as Gen passes by the kitchen order counter, there's a shout-- ] Head's up! [ --and then there's a powdered mini donut flying at her face. whether or not she catches it, it's that ridiculous sleep shirt that gets him snickering. ]
[How dare he launch projectiles at her before the sun's even up? Gen blinks down at the donut on the floor, then up at Mike and his sharp smile, brushing some powder off her cheek as she regards him with half-awake eyes.
And then, because she's not properly awake and thus can't pull her guard up around her as quickly, she blushes from her hairline to the collar of her nightshirt when the memory of his words comes back. It's incredibly rare for Gen to blush because of her body's strange relationship with heat, so this is far from a subtle reaction to seeing the same dude she sees every day.]
Shut up. [Not an order so much as a pitiful whine, followed by:] Please tell me there's coffeebots I just haven't met yet.
[ an interesting response, for sure. hard to really tell if Mike takes note of it or not, since he's very much focused on a Project at the moment apparently. but there might be a little pause, a slight tilt of his head, as though trying to consider or notice something being a little different, a little unusual. interesting. maybe. maybe not. who knows? ]
Obviously. Not a breakfast joint, but some weird fuckers like coffee with their pizzas. [ Mike whistles, Helpy scurries over. there's some gesturing, then Helpy's bounding over to some sort of puzzling control panel in the back. within moments there's a Staffbot wheeling its way out of the kitchen towards Gen, this one appearing to have some sort of touch screen on its chest plate listing various types of coffee drinks. please don't set it on fire. she'll just have to push a few buttons to order - yes the Staffbot has a coffeemaker in its chasis, no it's not high quality premium beans, but it's coffee what more do you want smh ]
[It's an actual, honest to god coffeebot. Mike's so weird, but Gen's not about to complain about it now. She picks up her donut and brushes off the side that touched the floor, then takes a bite while she works out her order - something with espresso and a lot of cream, plus some chocolate for an added boost.
Once she's got a decent-sized paper cup of piping hot mocha in her other hand, she wanders into the kitchen to observe Mike's work. Everything about her is a bit softer when she's this tired, from her posture and expression to her voice and choice of words:]
... why are you making donuts in the middle of the night?
[He's livelier than usual too, isn't he? Not quite cheerful, but closer than she's seen. It's - endearing.]
[ the passage of time doesn't really mean all that much to the cursed immortal dead man, let's be real. he doesn't sleep, so there's all that extra time and not much else to do with it beyond mess around in the workshop, office, or kitchen. which is one of the many reasons the menu never stays the same for long. anyway. point remains that it's not the middle of the night, it's early morning, and Mike absolutely will be pedantic about it. ]
Fifth anniversary this Saturday. [ back to the donut-making process he goes. it's slightly awkward with his relative immobility compared to a normal living chef, so there's flour and powdered sugar everywhere and the splash zone around the deep fryer is something to note if Gen wants to avoid hot oil splatters. the mini-donuts certainly aren't pretty, he can't shape them into perfect donut circles, but how they look isn't exactly important. ] Trying to come up with a few ideas to celebrate with.
[ is that why he's a half-degree more chipper than usual? hard to say. ] Coffeebot's a prototype, by the way. If you end up poisoned, I take no legal responsibility.
Yeah, yeah, everything here might kill me if shit goes wrong, I'm used to it. [Gen doesn't mean to brush off Mike's rather catastrophic history with shit going wrong and killing people in restaurants - it's more of a sign that she trusts him infinitely more now that she knows he enjoys her presence here and would miss it if she left. Or, you know, died. So obviously he'll be more careful about risks to her life than he lets on.
At least, that's how Gen now sees her position here. She's fine with continuing to drink her coffee and even finds herself surprisingly proud when she hears that Mike's been at this for five years. Shows how valuable his odd skillset can be when it's not being wielded by a total nutjob.]
Hey, you may be a zombie cyborg, but it sounds like you're also the only person in this franchise's history that knows how to run a fuckin' restaurant. Nice. [Yes, those are her congratulations. She'll try to do something for him on the actual day, but god only knows what form that gesture might take. She certainly doesn't yet.]
Anything I can do to help? Once I'm, y'know, conscious and all.
Please stop making this sound a hundred times cooler than it actually is. [ "zombie cyborg?" that'd be rad as fuck. but no, he's a ratchedy rusted rotting corpse. at least a zombie cyborg would be able to walk up stairs or jump over things. or have gatling guns in his arms. that'd be sweet.
... anyway. ]
Once you're conscious, you can taste-test. [ the hardest part about food experimentation and trying new menu options is being unable to tell whether or not it actually works. suffice it to say, he wastes a lot of money on ingredient sampling. and printing costs. Mike gestures towards his donut attempts on the counter - chocolate, strawberry jelly-filled, cinnamon sugar. they're all fully cooked and he followed the recipes exactly, so taste-wise they're probably fine. but the shapes ... they don't look the most appetizing. Mike tries, but. janky animatronic hands. ] Again, no legal responsibilities if you choke and die.
[She laughs quietly, the sound of it almost indulgent, and shakes her head.]
My bad, I didn't mean to make you sound cool. Super false advertising.
[The coffee tastes fine so far, as does the donut he hurled at her face, so she's totally up for the taste testing job. She moves in closer to take a look at what he's made so far, and he may notice that the hissing droplets of oil that hit her skin don't seem to bother her at all - in fact, they don't even leave little disc-shaped spots of red on her skin. Gen truly cannot be burned.]
Not gonna lie, dude, they look like dog shit. Why don't you make the batter and filling and shit and I can put them together.
[ well he walked right into that one, point for Firestarter. ]
It's hard, okay? Fuck's sake. [ Mike just gestures vaguely with his hands. he doesn't take the comment personally - maybe he would've a few decades ago, when this was new and he was extremely bothered by everything he could no longer do, even simple tasks and his regular hobbies. but he's had a long time to accept that this is just how he is, and not being able to make pretty donuts is hardly something to get pissy about. ]
Got any ideas for different flavours? [ might as well get input from someone who can actually eat things. Mike hobbles over towards the opposite counter, where his messy stash of donut ingredients are scattered about, so he can get started on the next batter batch. ] Nothing weird, but like. Good-weird, maybe. I dunno.
[She raises her hands with her palms up in a gesture of truce.]
So if it'll be easier for me, then get me to do it. I won't demand a raise or anything. I... should probably put on clothes first, though.
[Definitely some shoes, at the very least. She's gonna get Mike shut down by health violations if she starts cooking now. She tucks the rest of her donut into her mouth and washes it down with a mouthful of coffee, then considers the other flavours in front of her.]
Churros? Boston cream? I'll think about it while I'm getting dressed. [As she walks away, she can be heard muttering quietly to herself:] Pizza and soda and now fuckin' donuts, and I'm already getting so fat... pretty soon he'll have to blast a hole in the wall and roll me outta here if he changes his mind...
[In truth, she was so skinny when they first met that she's just added a layer of softness to her frame, but - teen girls gonna teen girl.]
[ Mike makes a half-hearted attempt to glare at her, as though barking orders at her is something he does on a regular basis - maybe sometimes, but for the most part Gen can fuck around as she pleases, as long as the dishes are washed and put away before opening hours, it's more or less free reign. he knows all too well what strictly governed households are like, knows all too well the urge to rebel and cause shit just to cause shit. at most he gets snippy at her when she gets snippy at him, but there's a conscious effort involved in not bossing her around. whether that's because it genuinely means something or if he'd just rather not piss her off and have to build a fire extinguisher into Helpy, hard to really say for sure.
"health violations," pah. if any health inspector actually did a visit on the restaurant, they'd have far more concerns about the corpse cooking in the kitchen than they would the teenaged hired help wearing ugly sleepshirts. weird how one's never showed up even once, huh? if he's going to inherit anything from his father, at least shady business tactics come in handy when you're trying to avoid being seen. ]
Terrible suggestions. Truly awful. [ at least, Mike vaguely recalls not liking Boston cream, so he's just gonna assume they're still shit. he watches Gen saunter off, shakes his head. girls. he sighs, starts up the next round of batter - most of the kitchen is automated, so mixing and incorporating is easy when machines are doing most of the work. he does call out after her as she leaves, ] Do be careful, if you Violent Beauregarde yourself out of here, I'm absolutely charging you for damages to the doorframe and the structural integrity of the building.
[ he teases. that's what you're supposed to do, right? right. ]
[She stops to wink at him through the opening with the order counter, then continues on to her backstage hidey-hole. When she re-emerges, she's got her spinny hat and Cherries Flambé nametag on because why not? They're technically working, right? Looks like some of his unusually whimsical energy might have rubbed off.
Her "work clothes" are just different combinations of her everyday clothes because she has so little to her name - she most often wears a simple dress, sometimes with leggings underneath, because her jeans feel a shade too casual if she has to leave the kitchen for something. In this dress, combined with her apron and heavy-duty workboots, she looks like a proper employee. And maybe she's just a dish washer, but choosing this life for herself and earning her keep does give her a sense of pride.
Raking her hair back into a ponytail with her fingers, she steps back into the kitchen.] Alright, just try to shoot this idea down - funnel cakes. You can't, right? Funnel cakes are so easy, made of all the same shit, and they're instant fuckin' happy. You can thank me for saving your donut idea later.
[ he might be getting a little too accustomed to being called "Pennywise," maybe a little bit. there's a chance he might be snickering quietly to himself, a chance that Gen might catch him muttering under his breath in a gruff and raspy tone, "they all float down here." maybe. he might be thinking about getting a tiny yellow rainjacket for Helpy. could be fun for Halloween or something.
the automated donut-batter-makers are doing their automated donut batter making, and Mike leans against the counter until Gen returns. dress code isn't exactly something he's a major stickler for, as long as it all jives with the pizzeria's aesthetic. and Mike's not exactly a fashionista himself. but hey, she wears the hat, she gave herself a goofy nametag. everything works out. ]
... [ Mike was going to scoff, but. hmm. he taps a finger to his chin, considering. funnel cake. theme park food. circus animatronics. huh. ]
That might actually work. [ Helpy starts doing an excited celebratory dance on the kitchen floor. ] Could save the donut idea for later.
Of course it will, I'm a genius. And I may not demand a raise for this but I'd better at least get a bonus.
[She's grinning, ponytail now in place, and reaching for one of the powdered jelly donuts to give it a try. All it took was knowing that Mike actually likes her company and suddenly Gen feels like she's bantering with her only real close friend back at Xavier's, Bobby - except that she made the profound mistake of falling head over heels for Bobby and while she may flirt with and even proposition Mike, that's not happening.
That's not happening again with anyone.]
Why not connect the donuts to coffeebot's big debut? Cake and soda for the kids, coffee and donuts for the parents. They're not that bad - [Except that the jelly donut turns out not to be very structurally sound, so she's soon got her face and hands and a fair amount of the floor covered in sweet strawberry goop with a hint of powdered sugar.] - agh fuck, damnit, I just went to the laundromat -
[Welp. That's her headed to the sink to clean up as best she can.] Helpy, wanna get a bot to take care of the floor? And you, no more fuckin' jelly donuts!
now there's a problem. Mike has been a jerk and a bully nearly all his life. he's never bothered to hide this fact. and the thing about jerks and bullies is, when an opportunity to be a jerk and a bully presents itself, it's just not physically in him to resist. Gen's agitated and huffy, made a mess of herself, and her back is turned. and there's a handful of sticky jelly-filled donuts within arm's reach. they're right there. Gen's over there.
Mike reaches for a donut, while Gen's ranting and not looking. he holds it out on his palm so that it's aiming directly for her. and promptly punches it with his other fist, spraying another little splurt of strawberry jelly across Gen's back.
he then immediately drops the squished donut on a very unassuming and unprepared Helpy and props his now very messy (definitely not with jelly) hands on his hips, scolding the little bear-bot who definitely was responsible for the whole thing. ] Helpy! That's not very nice of you at all.
[She hears the loud splat rather than feels it since none of the jelly hits her skin, but she still knows exactly what just happened. This is bully against bully, after all, even if Mike hasn't seen much of that side of her yet.
Without turning around, she speaks in a strained monotone that obviously wants to rise with both annoyance and amusement:]
You... really should've thought about how shitty it'll be to scrub jelly out of your gears before you did that.
[Because the moment she does turn around, the game is on. She snatches a bunch of the jelly donuts and just hurls one right at his face, knowing full well that he'll find it harder to shield himself or escape or do much of anything but take the assault. She does hesitate for a moment, just in case he decides to call the whole thing off, but she's braced and ready to keep throwing.]
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INBOX
text / audio / video / action
Thank you for calling Freddy Fazbear's Family Fun Center! We are regrettably unable to answer your call at this very moment, due to unforseen circumstances such as satisfying customer expectations, animatronic maintenance, or taming unruly ghosts in the rafters. Please leave a detailed message about your compliment or complaint, as well as your name and contact information, and we will contact you at our earliest convenience, if we deem your message deserving of a response in the first place. Thank you for calling, and have a Faz-tastic day!
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no subject
He's not a spybot, he inspects the vents for intruders.
[ and the camera only works if Mike personally activates it and it has a special super-powered ghost lens for recording spooks and it's a whole bunch of technological bullshit mumbo jumbo he doesn't nearly have enough time or patience to explain anyway-- ]
And as for you, [ he doesn't turn around to look at her, just gestures in the direction her voice is coming from with the wrench in his hand, ] ... let's just say I'm not always known for making wise decisions.
[ or maybe he just liked the idea of talking to someone who didn't reply with children's folk songs for once, who really knows tho it is a mystery~~ ]
no subject
Mike's answer doesn't quite make sense, if only because he's still making that decision every single time he doesn't just throw her out, but... that fact just gives her another warm little feeling in her chest. There's something he likes about her, she's sure of it. He's just too much of a cranky bitch to say it outright.]
Alright, I'm going to bed. [She stands up with a long, indulgent stretch and even more indulgent yawn, then goes to grab her cake and stash it far in the back of a stock fridge in case Mike was serious about billing her for it. Once she's back out at the side of the stage, she adds:] Just give me a few minutes first if you need to come back for anything, alright?
[Her bedroll is tucked beneath the big table that holds both the lighting and sound boards since it's all pre-programmed, and she got his permission to clear out the bottom level of some utility shelving (under his supervision) for her few possessions. Once she's changed and hidden away for the night, Mike can generally come and go as necessary without disturbing her sleep too badly.]
no subject
Uh-huh. Sure.
[ Mike-speak for "goodnight or whatever I guess."
of course, since he doesn't sleep, Mike remains working throughout the night, and leaves Gen to her rest. he's mostly on stage, but sometimes retreating to the office. it's relatively quiet at night in the restaurant, without the loud snotty children or the constant noise from the arcade machines and songs from the animatronics. nope, just the sounds of heavy shuffling footsteps, metal tinkering and paper shuffling, and occasional cursing because it's Mike and these blasted robots are frustrating as fuck sometimes.
though if Gen's a light sleeper, or just happens to wake up after a few hours, she just might happen to overhear bits and pieces of a hushed conversation. Mike's talking to someone, sounds like, but his voice is the only audible one. maybe a phone call? hard to say. it might not be anything, but Gen might be able to pick up on some context clues here and there, and she'll definitely hear her name mentioned. wonder what it could be about, hmm. ]
no subject
Hearing him speak more than two words at once is strange, though. Is someone here? No, just Mike speaking and pausing, speaking and pausing - yeah, sounds like a phone call. She's about to doze back off when she hears her own name and her eyes pop back open.
Immediately, she's up and out from under the table and creeping toward the back room's door. She eases it open a crack but instead of risking a squeaky hinge by opening it wide enough to sneak through, she just listens at the slim little gap for now.]
no subject
his voice is definitely quite hushed, like he is trying to keep the conversation quiet and private enough that a sleeping pyromaniac teenager wouldn't wake up and listen in. oh well. ]
Yeah, yeah, I know. [ Mike gestures vaguely with one hand, as though brushing off a suggestion from an invisible source. ] It was a shitty answer. The fuck else was I supposed to say?
[ there's another pause, then Mike is speaking quietly again. ] No, obviously not. I wouldn't actually kick her out. [ ... ] No- no no no, fuck's sake, no. [ ... ] No. She'll only stick around for however long she wants, then she'll leave on her own. Won't fucking matter what I say.
[ ... ] Yeah, I know. [ Helpy shuffles over and flops down on Mike's chest. ] I'll miss her, too.
no subject
What does have the greatest impact: He'd miss her if she left.
There's suddenly a tight, snarled ball of... something in her chest, so tight that it hurts to breathe. She backs away from the door with a hand over her mouth, the expression beneath it half wince and half smile. Part of her wants to walk right out there and demand that he say it to her face, but what's the point? He'd just get defensive again - and so would she.
Oh no. What's happening here?
Gen doesn't actually leave the room until about 4 am, an inhumanly early morning partially caused by how early she went to bed but mostly caused by Mike's words rattling around in her brain. She tends to change out of her pyjamas before showing her face but that's a bit too much to ask at ass o'clock in the morning, so Mike gets to see the utterly terrifying oversized t-shirt she wears as a nightgown when they eventually run into each other.]
no subject
whenever Gen does emerge for the morning, Mike is off stage. there's some noise coming from the kitchen instead, the deep fryer's going strong. a bit early, strange. but maybe he's working on something else, as he so often is.
as soon as Gen passes by the kitchen order counter, there's a shout-- ] Head's up! [ --and then there's a powdered mini donut flying at her face. whether or not she catches it, it's that ridiculous sleep shirt that gets him snickering. ]
Wow. That's hideous.
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And then, because she's not properly awake and thus can't pull her guard up around her as quickly, she blushes from her hairline to the collar of her nightshirt when the memory of his words comes back. It's incredibly rare for Gen to blush because of her body's strange relationship with heat, so this is far from a subtle reaction to seeing the same dude she sees every day.]
Shut up. [Not an order so much as a pitiful whine, followed by:] Please tell me there's coffeebots I just haven't met yet.
no subject
[ an interesting response, for sure. hard to really tell if Mike takes note of it or not, since he's very much focused on a Project at the moment apparently. but there might be a little pause, a slight tilt of his head, as though trying to consider or notice something being a little different, a little unusual. interesting. maybe. maybe not. who knows? ]
Obviously. Not a breakfast joint, but some weird fuckers like coffee with their pizzas. [ Mike whistles, Helpy scurries over. there's some gesturing, then Helpy's bounding over to some sort of puzzling control panel in the back. within moments there's a Staffbot wheeling its way out of the kitchen towards Gen, this one appearing to have some sort of touch screen on its chest plate listing various types of coffee drinks. please don't set it on fire. she'll just have to push a few buttons to order - yes the Staffbot has a coffeemaker in its chasis, no it's not high quality premium beans, but it's coffee what more do you want smh ]
no subject
Once she's got a decent-sized paper cup of piping hot mocha in her other hand, she wanders into the kitchen to observe Mike's work. Everything about her is a bit softer when she's this tired, from her posture and expression to her voice and choice of words:]
... why are you making donuts in the middle of the night?
[He's livelier than usual too, isn't he? Not quite cheerful, but closer than she's seen. It's - endearing.]
no subject
[ the passage of time doesn't really mean all that much to the cursed immortal dead man, let's be real. he doesn't sleep, so there's all that extra time and not much else to do with it beyond mess around in the workshop, office, or kitchen. which is one of the many reasons the menu never stays the same for long. anyway. point remains that it's not the middle of the night, it's early morning, and Mike absolutely will be pedantic about it. ]
Fifth anniversary this Saturday. [ back to the donut-making process he goes. it's slightly awkward with his relative immobility compared to a normal living chef, so there's flour and powdered sugar everywhere and the splash zone around the deep fryer is something to note if Gen wants to avoid hot oil splatters. the mini-donuts certainly aren't pretty, he can't shape them into perfect donut circles, but how they look isn't exactly important. ] Trying to come up with a few ideas to celebrate with.
[ is that why he's a half-degree more chipper than usual? hard to say. ] Coffeebot's a prototype, by the way. If you end up poisoned, I take no legal responsibility.
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At least, that's how Gen now sees her position here. She's fine with continuing to drink her coffee and even finds herself surprisingly proud when she hears that Mike's been at this for five years. Shows how valuable his odd skillset can be when it's not being wielded by a total nutjob.]
Hey, you may be a zombie cyborg, but it sounds like you're also the only person in this franchise's history that knows how to run a fuckin' restaurant. Nice. [Yes, those are her congratulations. She'll try to do something for him on the actual day, but god only knows what form that gesture might take. She certainly doesn't yet.]
Anything I can do to help? Once I'm, y'know, conscious and all.
no subject
... anyway. ]
Once you're conscious, you can taste-test. [ the hardest part about food experimentation and trying new menu options is being unable to tell whether or not it actually works. suffice it to say, he wastes a lot of money on ingredient sampling. and printing costs. Mike gestures towards his donut attempts on the counter - chocolate, strawberry jelly-filled, cinnamon sugar. they're all fully cooked and he followed the recipes exactly, so taste-wise they're probably fine. but the shapes ... they don't look the most appetizing. Mike tries, but. janky animatronic hands. ] Again, no legal responsibilities if you choke and die.
no subject
My bad, I didn't mean to make you sound cool. Super false advertising.
[The coffee tastes fine so far, as does the donut he hurled at her face, so she's totally up for the taste testing job. She moves in closer to take a look at what he's made so far, and he may notice that the hissing droplets of oil that hit her skin don't seem to bother her at all - in fact, they don't even leave little disc-shaped spots of red on her skin. Gen truly cannot be burned.]
Not gonna lie, dude, they look like dog shit. Why don't you make the batter and filling and shit and I can put them together.
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It's hard, okay? Fuck's sake. [ Mike just gestures vaguely with his hands. he doesn't take the comment personally - maybe he would've a few decades ago, when this was new and he was extremely bothered by everything he could no longer do, even simple tasks and his regular hobbies. but he's had a long time to accept that this is just how he is, and not being able to make pretty donuts is hardly something to get pissy about. ]
Got any ideas for different flavours? [ might as well get input from someone who can actually eat things. Mike hobbles over towards the opposite counter, where his messy stash of donut ingredients are scattered about, so he can get started on the next batter batch. ] Nothing weird, but like. Good-weird, maybe. I dunno.
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So if it'll be easier for me, then get me to do it. I won't demand a raise or anything. I... should probably put on clothes first, though.
[Definitely some shoes, at the very least. She's gonna get Mike shut down by health violations if she starts cooking now. She tucks the rest of her donut into her mouth and washes it down with a mouthful of coffee, then considers the other flavours in front of her.]
Churros? Boston cream? I'll think about it while I'm getting dressed. [As she walks away, she can be heard muttering quietly to herself:] Pizza and soda and now fuckin' donuts, and I'm already getting so fat... pretty soon he'll have to blast a hole in the wall and roll me outta here if he changes his mind...
[In truth, she was so skinny when they first met that she's just added a layer of softness to her frame, but - teen girls gonna teen girl.]
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"health violations," pah. if any health inspector actually did a visit on the restaurant, they'd have far more concerns about the corpse cooking in the kitchen than they would the teenaged hired help wearing ugly sleepshirts. weird how one's never showed up even once, huh? if he's going to inherit anything from his father, at least shady business tactics come in handy when you're trying to avoid being seen. ]
Terrible suggestions. Truly awful. [ at least, Mike vaguely recalls not liking Boston cream, so he's just gonna assume they're still shit. he watches Gen saunter off, shakes his head. girls. he sighs, starts up the next round of batter - most of the kitchen is automated, so mixing and incorporating is easy when machines are doing most of the work. he does call out after her as she leaves, ] Do be careful, if you Violent Beauregarde yourself out of here, I'm absolutely charging you for damages to the doorframe and the structural integrity of the building.
[ he teases. that's what you're supposed to do, right? right. ]
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[She stops to wink at him through the opening with the order counter, then continues on to her backstage hidey-hole. When she re-emerges, she's got her spinny hat and Cherries Flambé nametag on because why not? They're technically working, right? Looks like some of his unusually whimsical energy might have rubbed off.
Her "work clothes" are just different combinations of her everyday clothes because she has so little to her name - she most often wears a simple dress, sometimes with leggings underneath, because her jeans feel a shade too casual if she has to leave the kitchen for something. In this dress, combined with her apron and heavy-duty workboots, she looks like a proper employee. And maybe she's just a dish washer, but choosing this life for herself and earning her keep does give her a sense of pride.
Raking her hair back into a ponytail with her fingers, she steps back into the kitchen.] Alright, just try to shoot this idea down - funnel cakes. You can't, right? Funnel cakes are so easy, made of all the same shit, and they're instant fuckin' happy. You can thank me for saving your donut idea later.
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the automated donut-batter-makers are doing their automated donut batter making, and Mike leans against the counter until Gen returns. dress code isn't exactly something he's a major stickler for, as long as it all jives with the pizzeria's aesthetic. and Mike's not exactly a fashionista himself. but hey, she wears the hat, she gave herself a goofy nametag. everything works out. ]
... [ Mike was going to scoff, but. hmm. he taps a finger to his chin, considering. funnel cake. theme park food. circus animatronics. huh. ]
That might actually work. [ Helpy starts doing an excited celebratory dance on the kitchen floor. ] Could save the donut idea for later.
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[She's grinning, ponytail now in place, and reaching for one of the powdered jelly donuts to give it a try. All it took was knowing that Mike actually likes her company and suddenly Gen feels like she's bantering with her only real close friend back at Xavier's, Bobby - except that she made the profound mistake of falling head over heels for Bobby and while she may flirt with and even proposition Mike, that's not happening.
That's not happening again with anyone.]
Why not connect the donuts to coffeebot's big debut? Cake and soda for the kids, coffee and donuts for the parents. They're not that bad - [Except that the jelly donut turns out not to be very structurally sound, so she's soon got her face and hands and a fair amount of the floor covered in sweet strawberry goop with a hint of powdered sugar.] - agh fuck, damnit, I just went to the laundromat -
[Welp. That's her headed to the sink to clean up as best she can.] Helpy, wanna get a bot to take care of the floor? And you, no more fuckin' jelly donuts!
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see.
now there's a problem. Mike has been a jerk and a bully nearly all his life. he's never bothered to hide this fact. and the thing about jerks and bullies is, when an opportunity to be a jerk and a bully presents itself, it's just not physically in him to resist. Gen's agitated and huffy, made a mess of herself, and her back is turned. and there's a handful of sticky jelly-filled donuts within arm's reach. they're right there. Gen's over there.
Mike reaches for a donut, while Gen's ranting and not looking. he holds it out on his palm so that it's aiming directly for her. and promptly punches it with his other fist, spraying another little splurt of strawberry jelly across Gen's back.
he then immediately drops the squished donut on a very unassuming and unprepared Helpy and props his now very messy (definitely not with jelly) hands on his hips, scolding the little bear-bot who definitely was responsible for the whole thing. ] Helpy! That's not very nice of you at all.
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Without turning around, she speaks in a strained monotone that obviously wants to rise with both annoyance and amusement:]
You... really should've thought about how shitty it'll be to scrub jelly out of your gears before you did that.
[Because the moment she does turn around, the game is on. She snatches a bunch of the jelly donuts and just hurls one right at his face, knowing full well that he'll find it harder to shield himself or escape or do much of anything but take the assault. She does hesitate for a moment, just in case he decides to call the whole thing off, but she's braced and ready to keep throwing.]