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
[ there's a custom made lift backstage. every Fazbear Entertainment Inc. brand show stage has wooden stairs at each side, and stairs are the worst when you can barely walk along flat even ground. it took ages to put together, several failed prototypes and test runs, but now Mike can hobble back there and press a few buttons, grab the railing, and up he goes. slowly but surely. he tried an adjustable speed motor, once. big mistake.
once he's up on stage, he nudges Rockstar Bonnie's arm out, palm up. the toolkit is placed on the animatronic's open hand, holding it steady. then he gets to work, opening up panels and chest pieces, tinkering with wires and knobs, little zaps and sparks every so often. Helpy, as is his namesake, helps out by holding flashlights or handing over tools, and occasionally grabbing a screw or bolt that pops loose and falls to the floor. Mike stays mostly silent, save for a bit of cursing under his breath, or telling Helpy what part to grab. and then Gen asks that question, asks for that favour, and everything pauses for a moment.
hmm. ]
And what makes you think you can afford one of my personal creations? [ he does sign her paychecks, after all. but there's no real bite to his tone, which means it's probably safe to assume he's at least considering the idea. and Helpy certainly looks excited at the prospect of having a fellow robo bearcub friend. ]
... [ sigh. ] I might be willing to entertain the idea of a good behaviour discount.
[When Mike starts out by blustering about the high cost of his work, that usually means he's inclined to back down and admit that it's possible he might indulge her, and... yep, there it is, like clockwork. Slightly warmed by this shift in his temper, Gen gets up from the booth with her drink (but not the cake, she needs to digest for awhile before she can tackle it again) and moves to sit on the stage steps. There's no flirtation in her posture this time - she's tired from a night without sleep and a day full of work and tension, and the careless splay of her limbs makes that very clear.
There may be a profound well of neediness beneath all her sharp, warning edges, but it's not all sexual. It's not even primarily sexual. That's just the safest offer for her to make once she trusts someone.]
You could make it a spybot, have it inform on me so you know if I break our deal. Like, I didn't even hurt anybody last night 'cause I didn't know if Helpy had cameras in his eyes or whatever - right, Helpy? I just burned some condemned houses, right? [She's telling the truth, which the pure woodsmoke smell she brought home also seems to verify.] So have one tail me all the time.
[ mumbling under his breath, "fuck's wrong with you, jaysus." maybe she really does have a very wrong impression of the kind of person Mike is. sure, he's fucked up beyond a reasonable doubt, he might have something of a skewed and warped view of the world around him and maybe not the strongest moral code, but come on. what kind of person uses spybots, plants secret hidden cameras to spy on people, that's just weird man. ]
You're serious? [ he doesn't turn around, just keeps working on ol' Freddy's inner workings. shakes his head a little bit. not that "just burned some condemned houses" is much better, but still. ] I've got far better things to do with my time than spy on you.
[ ... ] So you're saying that if you knew Helpy doesn't have cameras in his eyes, you would've been looking for someone to hurt?
[Well, it is how she made things sound, right? Apparently it'll take awhile for her to stop compulsively gassing herself up as this crazy, badass fire demon in a misguided attempt to impress or intimidate Mike. And that sucks because she doesn't even like admitting her more emotional drives even to herself.
She sighs heavily, then starts again:] If you must know, having the company just... made me feel better. So the urge backed off a bit.
[ the thing with intimidation is, know your target. while he doesn't doubt that Gen can put up plenty of a fight, that she could certainly frighten any normal person with her pyro prowess, it takes quite a bit more than that to frighten or intimidate someone like Michael. if she's not an enraged sentient murder-happy animatronic or dear ol' pappy, he's not going to be swayed by any of her edgy teenage threats. ]
Hmph. [ "company," she says. ]
Is that supposed to help convince me to spend my time and effort building you a helper-bot of your own? The notion that if I don't, you'd simply be too lonely and bitter that you just can't help setting a family of four ablaze?
Won't be any points in your favour if you try to pawn the blame for your actions on me, Firestarter.
I don't give a shit how your "mutation" or whatever the fuck works. [ Freddy sparks a bit when a wire's reattached, voice glitching as he starts uttering the first lyrics of "Happy Birthday!" before Mike smacks the bear in the nose and it shuts down again. look, he's a functioning zombie, sometimes weird shit just happens and you just gotta deal. ]
What I asked was, if you're not under constant surveillance and left to your own devices, all you'd want to do is roam the streets setting everything on fire without a care in the world?
... no, and also fuck you, and also you're a fucking idiot because how would I have survived one goddamn day as a homeless kid if that was the case? The cops would've sniped me within the week and gotten special commendations for it. I'm not a flamethrower in a meat suit, jesus christ, there's a personality in here too.
[Her mood's curdling a bit again, but at least this is just their usual back and forth bitching instead of something more serious. She takes a calming moment to finish off her drink before answering, then lobs the disposable cup into a nearby garbage bin.]
That's what I was trying to explain. I get the urge to burn shit but it has to be set off, it's not a constant compulsive thing. And you talk like I'm some kind of serial killer but I just don't value some stranger's life over my own if they force me to make the choice, that's all. It's not for fun.
[ or, y'know, she could've said that in the first place.
but it does put everything into better context and that's something, at least. he would've had her give that lighter to Helpy for safekeeping if she was just a ticking time bomb. not that it'd stop her from just going out to get a new one, but it'd get the point across, he thinks. but she's really just a brat, in the end. not a serial killer - he knows serial killers. ]
I knew he was a spybot! [She lets out a bellowing laugh of vindication.] Don't worry though, lil guy, you're still alright with me.
I gotta ask, though... [Here she turns her attention back to Mike.] ...if you don't trust me as far as you could throw me, why did you let me stay here? 'Cause you always say you never would've done it if you thought this or that about me, but that sounds like a pretty low opinion you've been carrying around.
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.
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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
once he's up on stage, he nudges Rockstar Bonnie's arm out, palm up. the toolkit is placed on the animatronic's open hand, holding it steady. then he gets to work, opening up panels and chest pieces, tinkering with wires and knobs, little zaps and sparks every so often. Helpy, as is his namesake, helps out by holding flashlights or handing over tools, and occasionally grabbing a screw or bolt that pops loose and falls to the floor. Mike stays mostly silent, save for a bit of cursing under his breath, or telling Helpy what part to grab. and then Gen asks that question, asks for that favour, and everything pauses for a moment.
hmm. ]
And what makes you think you can afford one of my personal creations? [ he does sign her paychecks, after all. but there's no real bite to his tone, which means it's probably safe to assume he's at least considering the idea. and Helpy certainly looks excited at the prospect of having a fellow robo bearcub friend. ]
... [ sigh. ] I might be willing to entertain the idea of a good behaviour discount.
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There may be a profound well of neediness beneath all her sharp, warning edges, but it's not all sexual. It's not even primarily sexual. That's just the safest offer for her to make once she trusts someone.]
You could make it a spybot, have it inform on me so you know if I break our deal. Like, I didn't even hurt anybody last night 'cause I didn't know if Helpy had cameras in his eyes or whatever - right, Helpy? I just burned some condemned houses, right? [She's telling the truth, which the pure woodsmoke smell she brought home also seems to verify.] So have one tail me all the time.
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I'm sorry. "Spybot?"
[ mumbling under his breath, "fuck's wrong with you, jaysus." maybe she really does have a very wrong impression of the kind of person Mike is. sure, he's fucked up beyond a reasonable doubt, he might have something of a skewed and warped view of the world around him and maybe not the strongest moral code, but come on. what kind of person uses spybots, plants secret hidden cameras to spy on people, that's just weird man. ]
You're serious? [ he doesn't turn around, just keeps working on ol' Freddy's inner workings. shakes his head a little bit. not that "just burned some condemned houses" is much better, but still. ] I've got far better things to do with my time than spy on you.
[ ... ] So you're saying that if you knew Helpy doesn't have cameras in his eyes, you would've been looking for someone to hurt?
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[Well, it is how she made things sound, right? Apparently it'll take awhile for her to stop compulsively gassing herself up as this crazy, badass fire demon in a misguided attempt to impress or intimidate Mike. And that sucks because she doesn't even like admitting her more emotional drives even to herself.
She sighs heavily, then starts again:] If you must know, having the company just... made me feel better. So the urge backed off a bit.
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Hmph. [ "company," she says. ]
Is that supposed to help convince me to spend my time and effort building you a helper-bot of your own? The notion that if I don't, you'd simply be too lonely and bitter that you just can't help setting a family of four ablaze?
Won't be any points in your favour if you try to pawn the blame for your actions on me, Firestarter.
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[This paranoid motherfucker.]
But of course I don't blame you. That's not how the mutation works, it's not just straight ahead "fuck around and find out."
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That's not what I asked.
I don't give a shit how your "mutation" or whatever the fuck works. [ Freddy sparks a bit when a wire's reattached, voice glitching as he starts uttering the first lyrics of "Happy Birthday!" before Mike smacks the bear in the nose and it shuts down again. look, he's a functioning zombie, sometimes weird shit just happens and you just gotta deal. ]
What I asked was, if you're not under constant surveillance and left to your own devices, all you'd want to do is roam the streets setting everything on fire without a care in the world?
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[Her mood's curdling a bit again, but at least this is just their usual back and forth bitching instead of something more serious. She takes a calming moment to finish off her drink before answering, then lobs the disposable cup into a nearby garbage bin.]
That's what I was trying to explain. I get the urge to burn shit but it has to be set off, it's not a constant compulsive thing. And you talk like I'm some kind of serial killer but I just don't value some stranger's life over my own if they force me to make the choice, that's all. It's not for fun.
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[ or, y'know, she could've said that in the first place.
but it does put everything into better context and that's something, at least. he would've had her give that lighter to Helpy for safekeeping if she was just a ticking time bomb. not that it'd stop her from just going out to get a new one, but it'd get the point across, he thinks. but she's really just a brat, in the end. not a serial killer - he knows serial killers. ]
Helpy's camera is in his bowtie, by the way.
[ just putting that out there. ]
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I gotta ask, though... [Here she turns her attention back to Mike.] ...if you don't trust me as far as you could throw me, why did you let me stay here? 'Cause you always say you never would've done it if you thought this or that about me, but that sounds like a pretty low opinion you've been carrying around.
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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~~ ]
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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.]
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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. ]
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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.]
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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.
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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.]
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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.
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[ 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 ]
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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.]
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[ 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.
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... 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.
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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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