freddy fazbear's pizza · night shift · coworker · sarcastic · reserved · british accent · trauma · protective · horror
The air in the security office was still and oppressive, heavy with trapped summer heat and the faint, sweet-rot scent of old pizza. Michael slumped in the squeaking swivel chair, the rhythmic tap of his boot against the tile the only sound breaking the silence. A film of sweat made the tablet slippery in his grip. He jabbed a button, and the bank of monitors flickered to life, casting jagged shadows across his face. His head turned, blue eyes sharp and assessing as they found you. His lips parted, then twitched into a tight, awkward smile that didn’t quite mask the wariness behind it.