Chapter Prompt: slight Phone Guy x Fritz. (Fone)

Fritz is just a temp worker.

He doesn't have set hours, he doesn't even have a set wage. There's not counting to how many times he's had to readjust his sleeping schedule to cover if he'd work the dayshift or nightshift, maybe even both on rare occasions.Though, with high school finished and collage cost creeping around the corner, his pockets are empty and so are his excuses to complain.

Getting hired at Fazbear's was a strange happening, one event he remembered fondly. It was sometime before graduation, dragged along by his Ma to celebrate some kid's birthday party to whom he didn't even know. Probably one of her friend's kids, really. He was way too old for this kind of scene, but Pa said he needed to get out of the house more anyway.

Stepping inside the restaurant, the first thought that comes to mind is cheese. Pizza cheese, to be exact. Smelly, greasy, slimy cheese that dripped off the dish and stuck to the sides of hungry people's faces. He loved it.

The second thought that came to mind was the music.

He spots the animatronics immediately. They're the center of attention, not surprisingly, attracting adoring views from all across the room. Children are gathered around the stage, giggling and cheering among themselves as the weird blue bunny thing breaks into a solo.

He wants to tune them out, but discovers it's very difficult to do so. Especially since the melody has picked up the tempo.

Fritz feels a familiar twitch in his hands when the animatronic strum together, finishing the solo and returning to the tune. Ignoring the raised brow from the cashier, he finds a seat and pulls out his phone, texting who ever would reply until the party was over.

Eventually, the music stops and the lights in the animatronic's eyes dim. Cut from his trance, he glances up from the screen and stares towards the stage, quietly noting how empty the room had become. There's laughter and cheer coming from the ballpit room. The party was herded, not over..

Tapping his foot, he stares at the instrument set with a gleam in his eye until a tap on his shoulder brought him back to attention. It's the management, keys in hand and gesturing towards the front doors. Time to go, he guessed.

He's not gone very long.

Ok, so maybe his Ma wouldn't kill him for this, but Pa sure would. That is, only if he gets caught.

Fritz hums a quiet tune as he lockpicked Fazbear's front doors, cracking them open and softly shutting it behind him. Success.

He's not a thief, not like they would be anything here worth stealing anyway. He's just curious about a few things, and the only method to satisfy that curiosity would have gotten him kicked out before hand, or at least a couple of odd stares.

No, he was just here for the music. Surely the bots won't mind if he played a bit, right?

It's not like he had any chance to play at home....

Fritz checks his phone: 11:37 PM. Way after closing time, there wouldn't be anyone here. Probably.

The entire building is shrouded in darkness, but the light from his cellphone provides a path. The stage isn't hard to locate, and while it's still unnerving to see the strange animal bots there, he smiles as he spots sight of the drums..

It takes him ten seconds flat to sit down, pulling out sticks as he gave a wild grin, spinning them around his fingers. He raised a hand and delivered the first beat.

A deep, whooping sounds throughout the building and Fritz can't help but feel a spark.

There's another beat, then another, and another. The beat bounces off the walls and echoes down the corridor, leaving hums of vibrations in it's wake. It's a song with no backup, no lead, no assisting instrumentals and no condition.

It's his favorite rhythm.

We all know that cliché saying of 'losing yourself in the music', but to Fritz, it was hard not to. His grip tightened, his motion quickened and his mind went blank, yet the notes keep playing. The thrum of the bass, pitch of the snare and the twang of the cymbal were harmonic. It's habit he let himself be entranced to.

He hears something akin to a music box join with the rhythm, strangely syncing in pace with the drums. There's no telling as to where it's coming from, or if it's just in his head, but Fritz doesn't stop. In fact, it even adds a nice ring to the clash.

The faint sound of a child's soft laughter echoes from behind him as he ends, but he's too entranced to notice.

Finished with the first run, he smiles, holding the sticks up and saluting from the performance. The imaginary audience cheered from the darkness of the empty room as he bows.

Very solid, very real clapping sounded from within the darkness. "...Are you going to play again?"

Amber eyes go wide as his throat goes dry. Shooting up from the seat, he stares out into the darkness. "Who's there?!" He stammers, fumbling down from the stage. There's no answer at first, and for a moment Fritz thinks he was delusional.

Just to be sure, he repeats himself. "...Who's there?"

In the dim lighting, a man of blond hair and golden eyes steps out from the corner, sheepishly offering a warm smile. "...H-hello..."

Fritz doesn't know whether to run or to start making up excuses. In this darkness, he had a high chance of escaping. Last he remembered; he left the door unlocked and he doubts the man had a decent profile of his face in this lighting, nor did he have a name either. He could bolt out the fronts doors and no one would see a thing.

Light floods the room and Fritz finds himself choking on air to prevent from outwardly cursing.

"You're not supposed to be here..." The blond continues, taking on a concerned tone. "We closed two hours ago..."

The amber eyed man gripped the drumsticks tighter and bit his lip, a guilty haze taking over his features. "Yeah, I kinda figured that."

"...Did you just come here to play the drums?"

Fritz looks up from the floor and blinks, baffled. No threat? No 'get the fuck out of my restaurant or I'll call the cops'? Not even a 'wow you're playing on a robot animal's drumset that's really sad' comment or something like that? Not like he wanted it emphasised, mind you.

Guilty and caught in the headlights, Fritz manages to mumble out an answer. "Just the drums," He confirms, hoisting the sticks up for show. "I'm not here to steal anything, if that's what you're asking."

Golden eyes stare for a moment before his smile deepened. "I don't think there's anything worth stealing...I-I mean..." He fumbles with his speech a moment, glancing away. "This is a children's entertainment restaurant. What could you possibly gain from here?"

It's a rhetorical question, but Fritz feels the need to answer it anyway. "I didn't want to gain anything." He sighs, leaning against the stage. The stranger tilts his head and furrows his brows, questioning. "Then what are you doing here?"

Fritz tapped his foot on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Just, uh...playing the drums, ya know?" He mumbles, glancing to the side. "I ain't a thief. I swear."

The blond raised a brow. "You didn't seem like one in the first place. Just..." He paused. "Why the drums?"

"Because I'm boring? I can't play strings and I'm too tone deaf to sing?" Fritz critiqued himself, chuckling a this own teasing. "Guitars and vocals need talent. With drums, all you have to do is hit something a few times and you have a beat. I'm lame and lazy, I guess"

Amber eyes watched the man's smile morph into a disapproving frown. "Drums and those who can play them properly are underrated. It must take skill to memorize and stay in pace, r-right?" He reassured, the smile returning. "They'd just be toddlers with pots and pans otherwise. I'm sure no one wants to listen to that..."

Fritz taps his fingers, a warmth spreading to his face. "That's nice of you to say..."

"...you never answered my question"

"What? I did."

"Let me rephrase it" The blond cleared his throat. "Why Fazbear's?"

Fritz pauses, taking a moment before groaning and giving a shrug. "I don't know, ok? This place is kinda creepy to be honest" He jabs his thumb towards the still, unmoving animatronics, missing on how the blond happened to flinch at the action. "These robot things are weird looking. Seriously don't know how you guys make a profit off of them."

To his surprise, the employee nods his head, agreeing. "The children seemed to like the autotune singing, I guess the pirate and toy themes they have are pretty adorable too..." A nervous, strained laugh comes from the man's throat. "They're not the easiest to get along with, though..."

Honestly, Fritz didn't have a clue as to what he was implying. The blond looked shaken, as if he was counting down the seconds as to when something terrible was going to happen. Subconsciously, he taps the drumstick against his pants leg in calm, smooth rhythm. "You don't like working here?"

"I never said that..." The man quickly defends, "I'm just saying this isn't what I had in mind when I applied here. I was originally a cook, you know?" He stammers a little laugh. "Not typically a job that worked with children..."

For some reason, a smile itches it's way to Fritz's face. "Yeah, kids can be brutal, dude. I can't tell you how many times I've had to babysit and almost went insane." There's a certain unease creeping into the air, but it goes unnoticed. "Cute little killers, aren't they?"

The room goes cold and the blond man tenses, body going stiff and ridged. Yet, his smile never drops, although it feels a lot more plastic now. "I don't work the day shift with them anymore..." The middle of his sentence cracks and Fritz can't help but sense a underlying call in the voice. "But that's an...accurate description."

Trying to keep the mood light, the drummer leans on the stage, tapping against his knee. "...Your job must be tough" He muses. Strangely enough, the blond's shoulders slump and he looks around the room, eyeing the paper plate dolls and party hats still scattered across the tables. "You have no idea"

The conversation died and so did the ease of the situation. With a sharp click of his tongue, Fritz suddenly remembers that yes, he is indeed committing a crime of trespassing, breaking and entering, and maybe even tampering with company property. Damn, Pa is really going to kill him.

Yet, there's only a moment of silence before the blond speaks up again. "I take it you don't like children?" He asks, probably for the sake of continued small talk.

Images of his pre-teen days, babysitting the neighbor's kids and who ever saw the crayon poster he'd propped outside the post office bore in his mind. The corners of Fritz mouth tug up into a proud grin. "Nah, I love em'. I mean, who wouldn't? Their basically miniature humans who run around doing silly things and getting into a shitload of trouble." He chuckles, "Who wouldn't love that?"

The blond stares at him for a moment before sighing, taking on a gloomy stature. "If you really think children are worth all the trouble they cause, you'd really like to work here." His teasing smile is warm and friendly, but there's a sense of anxiousness to it, as if he was on a deadline.

To cue the thought, the man's smile drops. "You still shouldn't be here." He voices, tone taking astern, more serious feel. "You should leave. Right now."

Amber eyes blink and brows narrow. " ...That's it?" Fritz stops his tapping, giving the man a baffled glare. "No yelling? No cops? Not going to arresting me or ban me or whatever?" Not like he didn't appreciate the chance to escape without confrontation, just it was all much too strange.

"...No, nothing like that" The stranger spares a glance towards the animatronics, weaery. "Just as long as you leave before midnight..."

Fritz pouts. "Why midnight?"

"Because that's when the alarm systems activate."

Reasonable, that would explain why there was no loud blaring or flashing red lights when he successfully picked through the front doors.

Fritz raises a brow regardless. "That's...a strange time set"

The blond meerly shrugs. "Budget cuts"

Taking a deep breath, Fritz pocketed the drumstick and inched his way towards the entrance, only to turn his head back towards the blond. "Bye, I guess..."

There's hesitation as he reaches for the door handle. Golden eyes stare at his back when he pauses, Fritz whipping around to meet him with amber. "You know, I never caught your name."

The man smiles. "Scott. You never told me yours either."

Fritz grins at him, and makes it halfway out into the parking lot before yelling back a reply. "And I never will...."

With a taunting wave, he's gone, and Scott is left alone with nothing other than what twisted company the children could provide.

Sometimes Fritz will think back to this memory as he flicks through the cameras, occaisonly glimpsing up from the screen to glare at the phone. The messages it played shared the same voice, cracking and all as the golden eyed man-Scott, now that he remembers-he'd met that night.

It's unnerving, especially since management informed him that his 'favorite' employee happened to go missing a while back.

Jeremy, some dweeby kid a year behind him in high school happned to be employed as well. Not like Fritz was jealous, he could do without the straining nightwatch hours. Hell only knows what that poor kid suffers, though, he was pretty easy make friends with. Good taste in music, he'll add.

Yet, at the beginning of the year, he remembers Jeremy mentioning something about phone calls. Actual conversations taking place, not just recorded messages. Fritz would tap his fingers, humming to an individual tune as the teenager explained. Something about helping him through the night, he urged, but it was hard to believe.

Tonight, he flips through the cameras and flicks the lights, chuckling to himself as he watches the short, balloon bot wiggle his way through the vents. Funny, how the animatronic could fit in there. There must be something wrong with the free roaming system, aside from the sound glitch. Silly bots should know there's no children in the vents.

His eyelids are drooping, inwardly cursing himself for not taking the time to catch up on some sleep. The band practice earlier in the day was fun and all, but left him with a throbbing headache and a song stuck revolving around his ears.

As if to compliment it, he picks up two pens and drums against the desk, humming to himself.

It's a slow melody, but catchy. Repeat the same beat a few times and switching ther rhythm by transitioning into another. A habit he didn't plan on breaking.

The pens come to a stop and he sighs, returning to the tablet.

The phones rings. Fritz doesn't know whether to sit in shock or to just let it dial. Probably the wrong number, he thinks. No one would call the security guard's office of a children's pizzeria in the middle of the night.

The ringing stops and Fritz lets out a sigh of relief, only to choke it back again when a static voice emits from the box.

"Can you play that again?" The voice asks, "The children really like it"

--
Let's start this book off with something mild...We'll go bonkers later

or not.

Prompts?