"So, gonna let me take a crack at Foxy today?"

"The answer is the same as always, Lori. He isn't a priority."

There is a heaving sigh let loose followed by a sharp hiss of "careful!".

A woman pulls back slightly, maneuvering her head to face away from the animatronic suit in front of her to let out another, this time overly dramatic sigh, before tilting her head upwards to look at the man currently inside the suit.

William Afton stares down at her with an unimpressed look that she (and every other Fazbear employee) is well acquainted with. His lips are drawn into a tight line, eyes squinted slightly into a glare, brows drawn together. His beard and temples were speckled with gray as he entered his thirties. She supposed that running a business would do that to you.

She gave him a grin in return, something that most other Fazbear employees absolutely would not do. Aside from the older cooks in the kitchen, they were tougher than the number of teens working there, either still looking for approval anywhere they could get it or just intimidated by the man. Her skill with the animatronics helped to keep her in Afton's good graces, but she liked to think they had a certain rapport between them as well.

"This guy ain't exactly priority either though, is he?" she questions still with a grin as she waves the tool in hand towards the yellow Bonnie suit. "I mean, you don't even use the springlock suits anymore. Y'know, because something as small and simple as breathing on them can set them off."

She can tell by the way he closes his eyes and leans his head back that he's suppressing a sigh of his own. From her angle below him as she sits on a stool at the Bonnie's feet and with his head back, she doesn't see him roll his eyes.

"It's something of a personal project."

Her head bobs from side to side as she repeats his words in a soft mockery to herself while she leans forward to finish tightening a bolt holding the suit's knee joint together. A comment about his personal project taking up company time sits on the tip of her tongue but he is her boss after all. She might push at his limits more than other employees but she knew better than to push too far.

She also knew that he could be especially prickly about Spring Bonnie. Truthfully, she doubted that he would have ever allowed her to look at the thing let alone work on it had he not needed work done on it while he was still inside.

"Alright," she says after tightening a few more bolts, lifting on her stool slightly to push it back away from him, "How's that?"

William lifts the leg she had adjusted and slowly bends it at the knee, testing his freedom of movement with a few swings before setting it back down.

"Perfect."

Lori doesn't even attempt to keep the grin from her face as she cleans grease from her tools with a rag, keeping her gaze down towards her hands. It would be a lie to say that her pride in her work was the only reason she preened at his praise.

Perhaps she shouldn't judge the younger employees for seeking approval from the man.

He begins to pull the hands of the suit off and Lori glances up as his movements pause for a moment, her own hands still idly cleaning her tools with the rag. He is staring down at Bonnie's right hand, resting in his now bare left hand. Following his eyeline, she notices that there is a smearing of dark grease along the side of it. William had probably put his hand down into a splatter of oil as she worked without realizing it.

"Here-"

She's halfway through offering him her rag, hand lifted with it into the air, before he suddenly swipes his thumb through the viscous liquid and leans down, pressing the thumb against her cheek to smear it over her skin. She flinches at the unexpected contact and he gives her a lopsided smirk as her shocked, wide eyed expression narrows into a glare without any real heat to it.

He takes the rag from her hand, still held up, and wipes off his thumb before cleaning off the Bonnie hand and tossing the cloth back to her.

Lori quickly finds a clean spot on the rag and wipes at her cheek, grimacing as she feels the grease further smear across her skin and cursing the lack of a mirror or decently reflective surface in the parts and service room. With all of the metal around, you think there would be something but most of it would only reflect back a blurry mess of colors if she looked into it.

Above her, William lets out a huff of laughter before again leaning forward and pulling the cloth from her hand, gently wiping the remainder of the smear away.

She froze momentarily under the touch and looked up at him with an almost confused expression but he kept his gaze away from her own, focused on his hand at her face.

It would be a lie to say that some part of her didn't enjoy the moment.

"Y'know," Lori begins, her brain kicking back into gear as he pulls away from her, satisfied with his work, "Could've just asked if you wanted to touch." There's a small, nearly shy grin on her face, but she manages to keep her voice strong and tone teasing.

William glances at her, not fully pulled away yet. Almost intimately close.

She begins to regret the tease as a thoughtful look passes through his eyes and he lets out a soft hum. He remains close to her, holding her gaze, letting her stew in her regret before that lopsided smirk returns and amusement dances in his eyes.

"Really? I'll remember that."

"You might have a visitor tonight. Mechanic. She stops by every so often to check on the animatronics."

Vanessa hooks her thumb into the pockets of her pants, looking down at Mike. There's a look in her eyes that unsettles him, the one that says she knows more than she's letting on. Her voice holds a measure of fondness, as if she knows this mechanic personally.

"After the break-in, I'm sure the owner will want to make sure everything is all good with them."

He doesn't miss the way the fondness vanishes, replaced by venom solely for the mention of Freddy's owner.

His brows furrow and his lips draw into a thin line as he stares out at the water she had previously tossed his pills into, taking a moment before turning his attention to her.

"Got a name?"

"Lori."

Mike hadn't been sure what to expect from the mechanic that Vanessa had mentioned, but the woman standing at the entrance wasn't it.

She held a small smile for him and gave a tentative wave as he approached to unlock the door for her. She looked like she was in her forties, maybe early fifties. Her hair was a shaggy mess of a dull, mousey brown with strands of gray scattered throughout. If he had to guess, he would say that it was a style she hadn't changed for many, many years. There are crows feet at her eyes, smile lines etched into her skin. She wears a simple brown jumpsuit, her name embroidered in cursive above a pocket at her heart.

"You must be Lori," he says, holding the door open for her.

The expression she gives him is kind, but tired, and it brings a feeling of kinship that has him mirroring the look. As she passes by to step inside, though, he glances down and notices a bit of patchwork on her sleeve–the pizzeria's logo. And judging by the faded colors, she had had it for years.

"Yeah, I'm guessing Nessa told you I'd be coming?" she responds before giving him a half-smile. "I'm sure that the owner himself didn't."

Again, a bit of venom at the mention of the owner.

He bites the inside of his lip as he turns to lock the door, deciding not to ask about it just yet.

"Yeah, no, um..." His words are murmured as he turns back to her, dusting his hands off on his jeans. "I've never actually talked to him, don't even know who he is."

Lori nods, as if the information is in no way strange or unexpected, and he sighs internally at the idea of another person hanging around who knows more than they let on.

"Yeah, he's become something of a recluse. Doesn't really interact with the security guards himself. You're here through Raglan, yeah?"

She starts to walk towards the dining area as she speaks, prompting him to follow along with a tilt of her head. And he does, nearly tripping on a knocked-over stanchion as they pass through the welcome arch.

"Uh- yeah, you know him?"

Lori lets out a small laugh.

"Raglan? Or the owner?"

Mike follows her towards the stage, noting the way that she leads through the place as if she had been there a thousand times. Her comfort and familiarity with it all felt like more than just the occasional visits that Vanessa had mentioned.

"Well, I meant Mr. Raglan, but both of them."

She pauses with a hand on the curtain for the mainstage, ready to pull it back, and hums. For a moment, she's still, seemingly contemplating something before she retracts her hand and turns to face him, leaning back against the stage.

"Yeah, I know them both," she answers with a small nod and Mike could nearly laugh from the relief of a straightforward answer for once. She turns her arm, putting the patch he had noticed earlier on full display and looking down at it herself, a smile pulling at her lips and an almost melancholic look in her eyes. "I actually worked here when the place was still up and running. Wish I could go back to those days, sometimes."

He can't say that he understands the appeal of it. Creepy animatronics, screaming kids, bad pizza. Not exactly his scene, but he keeps the thought to himself.

"The owner and I were pretty close," she continues after a moment, but the melancholic look is gone. Her tone feels calculated and practiced. She lets her arm fall back and looks at him before giving a small shrug. "So, now I look after these guys every now and then as a bit of a favor to him. Keep 'em from falling apart."

He can feel that she's hiding something, hears it clearly in her words. But he doesn't know her, or the owner, or the place itself well enough to call her out on it.

"Why does he care still?" He questions instead. "I mean, it's not like he's getting anything out of them. They just... sit here, doing nothing."

Her head tilts as if she's intrigued by his words and he forces his expression to remain neutral as he leans against the edge of one of the dining tables, arms crossed.

He wants to question both her and Vanessa on everything but he needs this job and he doesn't want to risk it over his own curiosity.

"Sentimentality," she answers after a moment and he can't help himself, nose scrunching up and brows furrowing at the single word.

"That's what Raglan said, did the guy give you two scripts or something?"

Lori laughs, an empty and hollow sound this time, and again, he's struck by the unnerving feeling that she knows more than she's letting on.

"He might as well have." A strange and ominous answer. "And I do also know Steve, yes."

"Hmm, first name basis?" He deflects with a lame joke as the air around him feels too thick with a foreboding air and he needs a moment to breathe.

Her eyes narrow with the smirk she gives him, a genuine amusement in her eyes.

"When he hasn't annoyed me, at least," she jokes back and he tries not to let the relief visibly show on his face.

"He's in your good graces now, then, I'd guess?"

He watches as she turns back to the curtain and pulls it back, grabbing it with both hands and walking from the center to the left of the stage, revealing two of the animatronics–Bonnie and Freddy. He can see a glimpse of Chica and her cupcake, but she's still mostly obscured by the shadow of the other curtain.

The question he had asked is left hanging in the air, unanswered.

For now, Lori doesn't bother with the other curtain, ignoring the set of stairs to the side of the stage, instead lifting herself to sit on it and then swinging her legs over. Again, an action that felt like she had done it a thousand times and he supposed that she probably had.

She walks up to Freddy first and Mike tilts his head slightly with a realization.

"Don't you, uh-" he begins, awkwardly, pausing and scratching the back of his neck when she looks at him over her shoulder, "Don't you need tools?"

He feels silly when she only grins before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a flashlight, holding it out for him to see for just a second.

"I might," she says, clicking the light on and turning back to Freddy, running it over his arm and shining it between plates, bending to squint at the mechanisms inside. If she sees anything off, she makes no obvious show of it. "But they've got everything for repairing these guys here, back in parts and service. Might as well have a look and see if anyone is actually damaged before I lug anything out here or try to get one of these guys back there."

Mike nods despite the fact that her back is still to him and pushes himself off the table he had leaned against.

"Well, uh, I guess I'll let you work. I should probably start cleaning this place up."

"I'm sure I'll be out of your hair soon enough," Lori says with a slight turn of her head towards him, still maneuvering around Freddy and peering into him. "These things are sturdier than you'd think, they're probably fine. Besides.." She trails off and shines her flashlight across the floor of the showroom, the beam catching on bits of shattered glass and strewn about pieces of furniture. Mike follows the beam for a moment before looking back at her to find a faraway and melancholic look on her face. "Judging by the state they left the place in, I think if they went for these guys, it would be a bit more obvious."

"Yeah..." Mike answers her with an absent nod, looking over the animatronics. It doesn't take a genius to see that his mind is elsewhere but Lori doesn't think he's quite as clueless or aloof as he seems. A bit awkward, perhaps, but there was something there, something that resonated with this place. "Yeah, probably."

For a moment, she observes him, using his shifted focus to really take him in. She wonders what it was about him that landed him this job. Usually only the truly desperate took the night shift here. Awful hours and even worse pay didn't exactly attract the well-off.

But even so, something felt different about him.

"But yeah," he says suddenly, breaking Lori from her thoughts, "just let me know if you need anything? Or when you're headed out."

She shakes her head to re-center herself before returning her attention to Freddy, tossing Mike a thumbs up with her free hand.

"Got it, boss."

William leans against the concrete wall outside his office, a cigarette hanging loosely in his fingers, brought up to his face but hanging inches from his lips still. His face is pulled into a grin, eyes squinting with the way he smiles at her, a joy that would be endearing if Lori didn't know the darker side to it.

It was well into the morning, having been hours since she had left the pizzeria. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, casting a soft pink glow over the building and empty parking lot.

After giving the children a once-over, she had quickly determined that they were fine. Mechanically speaking. Of course, that wasn't the real reason she was there. She hated the part that she played in Afton's little game, a bit role to make things feel more legitimate, to feel out the guards without William himself having to do it. Her and Vanessa forming a duo to prop up his lies, all under his orchestration. Unfortunately, her place in his world was cemented years ago and now, even if she could get out with her life, she felt a measure of responsibility to the children to stay. To take care of them in the only way she knew how.

And the way that his grin and his affection still stirred something in the pit of her stomach? Still made a genuine smile light up her face? Well, if she thought about it too much, it would probably drive her to a near mental breakdown. It had, early on. Just months after his actions had been revealed to her, she nearly ended it all, but of course he had been the one to stop her. To save her, in his eyes.

He takes a drag of his cigarette as she nears, gaze following her as she leans against the wall beside him, her body turned his way. He watches her for a moment, looking away only to blow out his smoke.

"How're the kids?" he asks, tone casual although the delighted grin remains.

She looks down to the cigarette he holds, knowing that if she holds his gaze, she'll be tempted to get snippy with him. She hated when he referred to them like that–"the kids", "the children"–as if they were their own and not others' who he had stolen and murdered.

Quickly, she plucks the cig from his hold and takes a drag herself, turning from him so her back is fully against the wall and letting her eyes close as she inhales.

He still watches her, his delighted grin falling into something still affectionate but much more muted. She exhales in a sigh, the smoke curling around her lips in a puff.

"They're fine," she answers, holding her hand back out to him. He takes the cigarette back, letting his fingers graze against hers.

It's a moment reminiscent of their early days, back when they would share smoke breaks behind the pizzeria and she knew nothing of his bloody pasttime.

"And what do you think of Mike?"

The question takes her off guard. Not necessarily the fact that he asked what she thought of him, it was why he would send her in to meet them after all, but because he used the kid's name.

She doesn't answer straight away, eyeing him with an open scrutiny and curiosity that makes his lips curl into a grin more blatantly sinister. He hadn't liked it when she challenged him in any way the first few years of their, as he dubbed it, "partnership", but now...

Well, she supposed he liked anything that put up a fight for him to overcome. In one way or another.

"First name basis, huh?" she echoes the question Mike had asked her and William lets out a laugh as if in on the joke, confirming to her that he had already watched footage of her meeting with the new guard.

He takes a final drag and sputters a small cough after breathing too quickly in his rising excitement.

"Well," he flicks what little is left of the cigarette onto the pavement and slaps his fist against his chest with another cough. His lips are still twisted into a grin despite the minor discomfort and he lets out a strained, slightly manic giggle. "I'm on one with him."

She lets the silence carry again, watching as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets, taking a small step closer to her and leaning back against the wall, facing her. His right foot kicks back, toes bouncing on the sidewalk twice before he brings the foot back and tilts his head, letting it rest against the wall as he looks down at her.

"And you're not?" he questions.

The ecstatic expression is still there but she can see a darkness in his eyes, as if he wants her to lie to him, as if he wants a reason.

"You already know how our conversation went," Lori answers with a small shrug and that darkness in his eyes retreats for just a moment. Just barely a moment, as it returns in full force when she speaks again. "Something's different about this guy, isn't it?"

He truly lights up, even with the darkness in his eyes. His body tenses with energy, fists clenching in his pockets as he forces himself to keep from having too large of a reaction. Again, his foot kicks out, swinging a few times before bouncing behind him.

Again, it would be endearing if she didn't know him as she does.

"Oh, I don't have any idea what you could possibly mean," he coos, dragging out the last syllable and bending slightly at the waist, leaning further into her space. Her lips draw into a thin line, clearly unimpressed, staring him down until he lets out an overly dramatic sigh and rolls his eyes. His foot still bounces behind him with manic energy.

"You're not as fun as you used to be, dove," he complains in a light tone before leaning in even closer, bringing his face within inches of her own, and answering in a conspiratorial whisper. "I took his younger brother."

If the confession didn't cause her to instantly freeze in place, she would have recoiled from him. A sickening feeling rises in her and she swallows, willing herself to not actually vomit at the thought of it all.

Slowly, she nods, her mind beginning to shut down to stop her from reacting in the way she knew she should, the way she wanted to react. Hysterics and righteous rage and all.

Instead, she blinks and gives a final nod. Her hands clench tightly into fists at her side before relaxing with a long exhale.

"Loose end, then?"

Her voice is soft and she doesn't look him in the eyes.

William's bouncing foot finally comes to a stop as he straightens back up. A pitying look replaces his grin.

"Oh, dove," he coos again, right hand lifting to cup her cheek and brush his thumb over her cheek. A mockery of comfort. "You should know better than to ask these kind of questions."

She finally meets his eyes and she knows he can see the hate there. It's obvious in the way that his touch stills and his expression finally falls into a frown.

The worst part of it all is the way that there's a twinge of guilt in her stomach. Not towards what she knows Will has in store for Mike, not for having knowledge of what he has done countless times and helping him to do it. But she feels guilty because she knows that beneath that hate, she still harbors love for him.

Lori turns her face from him and he drops the hand at her cheek with a huff. She rests her head back against the concrete and closes her eyes, trying to keep her thoughts from spiraling and wishing that she still carried cigarettes on her. Smoking had become a bad habit that only lived on for her through William. After sex, during these meetings, the occasional visits during his breaks or to her home that felt almost normal. They would share a smoke then, like a ritual. Next to the kidnapping and murder, she figured that having a cigarette with him wouldn't be what condemned her in the end.

"Am I in your good graces?"

The question surprises her, causing her to open her eyes again with several blinks. She almost forgets her guilt and anger as she looks up at him with a raised brow and finds him looking down at her with a serious and almost contemplative expression.

"What?

"You never answered him–Mike," his voice is subdued as he explains himself, nervous in a way. He glances away from her now lifting and gesturing with one hand as the other slides back into his pocket, his body turning to lean his back against the wall completely, mirroring her. "He asked if 'Steve' was in your good graces right now."

Again, she blinks and just stares at him for a moment.

He had just admitted to killing this guard's younger brother in the past and then implied that he was going to kill him as well (an act that she already knew was doomed to happen, but the verbal implication made it all feel real and awful) and now he was asking this?

"Do you think that you are?"

It clearly wasn't the answer he wanted as his nervous act drops and he rolls his eyes and turns back to her, disappointed. He shifts closer, crowding her and forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact, her eyes narrowing into a glare as her anger with him begins to peak through the cracks he had been chipping away for years.

"I–," he begins in a firm tone, one she had mostly heard him use with Vanessa when she was younger. The one that brokered no argument and carried a threat if challenged. "I think that I've done a lot for you over the years," he leans in further, bending at the waist until they're nearly eye level, "Like putting the knife down, for one."

She remembers the day she discovered the truth clearly still, as much as she wishes she could forget. She remembers the sobbing, the begging, the pleading, the way he cradled her and cooed soft words to comfort her. The way that they were covered in smears of her blood from the cuts he had gotten in before she convinced him to let her live. The promises she had made and foolishly kept out of fear.

Lori swallows and looks away from him but he lashes out, grasping her chin harshly and he doesn't even have to make the demand verbally before she returns her gaze to him, now wide-eyed.

"You made your bed, dear. And you will lie in it until we are done."

It had been some time since he had directly threatened her, even in such a thinly veiled way. Between all of the quiet moments where something softer shone through him for her, the way his violence towards others had become so normalized to her, and her own numbing to the darkness for her own, selfish sake, she had forgotten what it was like to be the one that that darkness was aimed at.

Lori freezes under his gaze and all it takes is the welling of tears in the corners of her eyes for that switch to flip in him as he shifts into a concerned expression. The hand grasping her chin smooths up her cheek to thumb away tears as they fall and he steps closer not to intimidate but to take her into his arms.

It's terrifying how quickly his energy changes, his entire being morphing in a matter of seconds from the awful, violent killer that she knows he is into the gentle and caring man that she wishes he could always be.

It was how he survived, how he escaped the fate he deserved–by being what he needed to be in the moment.

It was how he kept her by his side.

And even though she knows this, she still sinks into him, burying her face into his chest as her body begins to shake with her sobs.

The tender words whispered at her ear only make her cry harder.