Chapter Text
Turns out, you and Vanessa's plan to avoid the Superstar Daycare for a long while failed before it even got started. You'd barely even gotten clocked in and settled for the day when Kara laser-focused on you, already halfway done prepping one of the carts you'd become oh-so-familiar with. A sense of dread overcame you when you saw it, and you were unable to keep the grimace off of your face. Briefly, you wondered just how convincingly you could feign an injury or sickness, and your reaction does not go unnoticed by your co-worker.
"I saw that look, my guy." She nudges you, almost coyly. "I knew that place would get to you, too. It was only a matter of time."
A tiny seed of guilt plants itself within you. You remember Sun's words, and how excited the kids tended to be to see you, and all the unfairness you'd imagined the crew there had put up with before. You remember how almost everyone who wasn't a preschooler called the Attendant ‘creepy’, and how flippant at best and weirdly harsh at worst their treatment was at the hands of parents and staff alike. Did you really want to contribute to that? Sure, last night was still agonizingly fresh in your memory, but in the end, you supposed it was only really one specific person's fault you felt the way you did, and that person wasn't Sun.
Nonetheless, the thought of being inside the daycare nauseated you, but you supposed you could say hi to the kids, give Sun a curt apology, and get out within 10 minutes, tops. No need to spend any longer inside than your job demanded you to.
"It's not that, I just…didn't sleep well. I might not have the energy to deal with screaming kids just yet."
It wasn't a lie, necessarily, and Kara gives you a brief look but easily accepts your words and continues on with the prep work. You jump in, eager to get this done as quickly as possible and thankful for the distraction from your thoughts. Between the two of you it doesn't take long, and before you know it you're dragging your way towards the daycare, each step making you feel like a prisoner marching to the gallows. A condemned man.
You don't pass anybody on your way over, and the doors to the pickup lobby are silent and still before you. You've already been hesitating for a good five minutes, and the sense of foreboding wafting off the doors feels thick enough to physically push you back. You stay still for a moment longer before deciding to bite the bullet and push your way inside.
Inside, the daycare is as bright and cheery as you're used to it being, which only serves to heighten the unease you feel because now you know just how fake it is. There's the familiar sounds of children playing, though not as loud and plentiful as it usually would be. A glance down from the lobby (the anchor for the rope around the statue has been put back in place, you notice, but you dare not turn around to look at the Moon side of the thing) tells you that there's fewer kids than usual around--a slow day for the daycare, it seemed. Good. You could get out of here faster if you didn't have a bunch of toys and tiny bodies to maneuver around.
You're barely down the accessibility ramp and inside the play area doors when a familiar voice assaults you, full of worry and loud enough to shake the foundation of the entire Pizzaplex.
"SUNSHIIIIIINE–!"
Sun literally drops what he was holding, which was thankfully not a toddler, and closes the gap between you in record time before sweeping you into a bone-crushing hug. You wheeze a soft 'oof' and momentarily feel your feet leave the floor before you're sat back down just as quickly. There's no time to get a word in before the animatronic's large (and strangely warm) hands trap your head on either side, gently turning your face this way and that as if he were looking for something, like bruises or other injuries. He stops when he finds none, satisfied, but the hands never leave your cheeks.
"Oh heavens--you're alright! You are alright, aren't you? Goodness gracious you sure had us worried! Very, very worried! Oh, oh, sit down, Sunshine, sit down! Would you like some water? Some Fizzy Faz? Lemon-lime and other clear drinks are the best for when you're not feeling well, you know! Helps all the squishy bits inside settle!"
You just blink up at him, dazed at the speed of his fretting. A child giggles to your side, and you sheepishly find that he actually had sat you down at some point during his spiel. You're about to protest when he cuts you off, skipping away and pushing your cart around with assurances that he'll do the passing out of food for you. Really! It'll be just fine; he'll take care of everything, just like always!
It sounds weird when he says it, almost in a self-deprecating way, you think, but he's moving way too fast for you to argue, so you just slump into the plastic kiddie chair that had already started hurting your butt. Granted, it wasn’t made for an adult like you, but still…how on Earth did children tolerate these things? Your table-mate decides that that's his cue to grab your attention, eagerly showing off his pictures that he's drawn so far today. You indulge him as much as your tired mind will allow you to.
Once finished, Sun whisks you off to the side, faltering in checking you over again when you lean away, just a little. You see his rays retract slightly, face morphing to one you'd expect to see on a dog that knows it's guilty of something you haven’t discovered yet.
"I--I'm sorry, Sunshine, I just was so, so, so worried! E-especially after last night, and…"
"How do you know about last night?" You swallow, and mortification is quick to squeeze around your heart. "H…how much about last night do you know?"
"Well, I know enough!" Sun chuckles, but it's not one of his usual, giddy ones. He sounds somewhere between shy and embarrassed--but even that didn't sound like the right word. Guilty, maybe? Tired? Either way, it's a hard sound to place, especially since shame-fueled nausea hits you like a rogue wave at the beach at about the same time. Thankfully, all the kids were preoccupied with either pizza or quiet-time, so you at least had some measure of privacy to panic in.
"I was there, after all…"
Your head snaps back up to look at him then, lips parted in surprise, and his apologetic grimace and barely-there rays do nothing to soften the blow.
"What do you mean you were there?!" A quick glance around the playroom confirms there's no children especially closeby, but you keep your voice to a whisper-yell just in case. Sun shrinks back just a tad, hands up in submission. "Why didn't you help me with your unhinged brother, then?!"
"First of all, we're not brothers!" Sun matches your volume, but his voice is much more timid than you're used to it being. "S-second--I did! As much as I could, anyway! I-it was very dark, you see! Very very dark!"
You can't believe what you're hearing. Dark? It was too dark? Really? Furious adrenaline courses in your veins, but you really didn't want to yell at Sun, so you fume for a few seconds to yourself instead. After a moment you take a deep breath and force yourself to be level, doing your best to give him a measured response.
"Sunny…" You start, but pointedly avoid looking him in the face. "You're a robot. There's nothing about it for you to be afraid of–"
"Ah, but there is! You see, I can't–"
"Just because you take care of kids doesn't mean you have to act like one!" You growled at him, careful not to raise your voice. "I almost fucking died –"
A finger lands on your lips, then, and you glance at it in rapidly-mounting irritation before looking back to Sun. The expression he wears gives you pause. He doesn't look angry at the outburst, or upset, just…patient. You're effectively hushed.
"Sunshine." He starts, his voice as gentle as his eyes, pupil-less as they were. "You don't understand. We have light level sensors," he taps the side of his head somewhere, indicating his machinery, "that prevent us from switching out, depending. I really do mean it was too dark for me to do anything but talk to them in our head!"
Our? Your eyes flick across his face desperately as realization floods you. You're not sure what you were looking for, anyway, since his ability to emote was limited.
"You're…the same person." You mutter blankly against his finger, and he's quick to remove it to shake his hands wildly and defensively.
"Not the same person–! Not the same, no, no, no! Just, er…" His rays fidget along with his fingers as he searches himself for the right way to put it. Vaguely, you catch the middle digit of one hand tapping mindlessly against his thumb again, like before. "B-body roommates! Yes! Two halves of a whole, he and I!" He blabbers nervously, seemingly in a desperate bid to redirect your frustration away from himself. You swear he would've said 'please don't be mad at me', if he had stopped coming up with increasingly convoluted analogies to explain his situation long enough.
You're a little stunned, honestly. Stunned that nobody had outright told you this much earlier beforehand, and stunned that you didn't figure it out yourself sooner.
Well…not stunned, considering your own underestimation of your intelligence. Disappointed, maybe.
Sun and Moon were in the same animatronic body. Two AIs sharing the same shell, completely independent but still aware of both themselves and each other at almost all times. It would be deeply impressive and fascinating, if you hadn't nearly lost your life for it.
Sun is still chattering on, but you weren't really listening, instead thinking back on all that had happened. He said he'd been talking to Moon, in their head, during your encounter, and the memory of them intently cocking their head to the side as if listening resurfaces in your mind. Is that what that was? Was Sun distracting them in that moment, and turning their attention to him? It made sense, you supposed, but it was still a lot to digest.
"Why'd you let him chase me again, then? At the end?"
Sun stops, getting that guilty grimace again.
"I-I'm sorry, Sunshine. He was just trying to scare you off, then." An airless huff leaves Sun's voicebox, and he sounds irritated suddenly. "I told him not to, but do you think he listens to flaky ol' Sunny? No, no, no, of course not!"
You're starting to notice how he seems to talk in threes when he's especially excited or upset. It's really cute, but you're too emotionally exhausted to comment on it. Instead, you rub both hands across your face in exasperation.
"How do you manage?" You mutter, thinking out loud.
"Well, it's…" He looks rather guilty then, a tinge of sadness in his voice and the way his body sags. "Moonie wasn't always like this, you know. They're really not themselves lately…"
Right, the malfunctioning. Or so you've been told.
"B-but enough about us!" Sun's hands plop firmly on your shoulders again, and you splutter. "What about you, Sunshine?"
"What about me?" You snicker in disbelief. "I'm standing here, still coming to work. I need to more than ever now…"
"Oh, I was so so so worried you'd never come back after that! W-we --I --really like you –like you coming here! And I thought I might not ever, ever see you again!"
"I still have to come to work, Sunny."
"I-I know!" Sun's hands at your shoulders flex with restless energy, and you wonder if he's thinking about checking you over again. "I just want to know you're okay after all that! Wh-what you said last night…that really worries me, Sunshine. I want to help you feel better, if I can! I do care about you, after all!"
"Sunny…please." You politely wave his hands away, that mortification from before returning to you full force. The last thing you wanted was someone perceiving, let alone worrying over your problems. You should be the one apologizing, really, being the selfish one that brought your problems here, after all. Guilt churns your stomach.
"I appreciate the sentiment and all, really, but…you 'care' because you're programmed to. Don't waste that on me, okay?"
Sun's expression falls acutely, and he stares at you with a hurt to him that you hate seeing on his normally cheery self. The guilt doubles down.
"That's not very fair, now, Sunshine." It's his turn to give you a measured response, but it's in a strangely gentle sort of way, like he's afraid you might crumble to dust if his tone was too firm. "I might be programmed to be a caretaker, but I am perfectly capable of acting outside of that, if I choose to. And I am."
Now you're the one shrinking back, muttering barely-audible sorries and unable to look him in the eyes.
"I'm also choosing to make it my mission to help you feel better about yourself, Sunshine, no matter what!"
"Yeah, well…" You chuckle sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck and blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. "That's a pretty tall order, Sun."
"What a coincidence!" He shoots up straight then, to his full height, rays extending for good measure. "So am I!"
"Oh my God…" You mumble in exasperation, but find yourself smiling despite yourself, and Sun looks far too proud of himself. "Smooth, Sunny. Real smooth."
–
You did your best not to linger in the daycare, despite the pleasant turn to the conversation with Sun. His fretting over you was overwhelming and the wounds from the previous night were still fresh, so despite feeling guilty for punishing Sun for it, in a roundabout way, you were still rather keen on avoiding this section of the 'plex as much as you possibly could while still doing your job.
You really didn't like being wary of Sun--he was nice, and genuine, and you were always laughing when he was around. His company was truly enjoyable, but on the other hand…now you knew that Moon was always there as well, lurking behind a thin veil of software. It wasn't Sun's fault, you knew that, but you still no longer felt completely safe. Ignorance was bliss, they said, but you'd had that privilege taken away from you.
"I am honestly shocked you came in today."
A familiar but stern voice pulls your attention up from the prep list you were busy putting together on your monitor, and you're reflexively prepared to launch into your best customer kiss-ass speech until you realize you are, once again, face to face with Vanessa.
"Oh! Uh…yeah. No time to be a basket case for me!" You snicker nervously. "I need all the hours I can pick up."
"I relate to that more than I want to." She sighs, and you notice that the bags under her eyes look darker than usual.
Another child, maybe two, had gone missing recently. Granted, one of them was unconfirmed to actually be in the Pizzaplex, but it was close enough that employees were still advised to keep a lookout. Being head of security meant that the bulk of investigating fell to her, and between sifting through information and fielding insensitive media requests, you could only imagine how little sleep she'd been getting. You never knew how any of these reports played out--whether the kids had been found, or what –and although part of you felt slightly disgusted with yourself, you were beginning to grow numb and unbothered by them as a whole. On some days, you even wondered, however briefly, if the majority of them were even real.
It was no secret that FazCo had a certain…reputation. The 'plex was far from their first business venture, and if the brief history walk you took one day through the museum-like walls of old posters and newspapers they had in Rockstar Row told you anything, there was no shortage of unscrupulous persons who liked continually picking the scabs off of the old wounds left by the tragedies at the first two restaurants. It was depressing, yes, but you knew all too well how cruel and incessant some people could be.
"So…what brings you here, anyway? Hungry?"
"Not really." Vanessa reads past something on her tablet and huffs. "But it's one of those things where I'll drop dead if I don't eat every now and then, so…yeah. This place still do by-the-slice?"
"Only for employees, I think. How many?"
"Just one is fine."
You nod and ring her up silently, not really sure what to talk about, or if you even should. She balances the small box with the kitschy logo of Freddy on it that you hand her neatly in the crook of her arm with the rest of what she was carrying.
"At least you weren't in the daycare wing today, right?"
"Well…" You wince, and her face twitches.
–
Somehow, you both end up sitting across from each other at one of the stubby tables much like you had the night before. You told her how the catering had been deferred to you, as it always was, and the both of you took a moment to bemoan the ridiculousness of it all. It wasn't a particularly wordy conversation, mostly just an exchange of 'man, what the hell'-type statements, but it's still oddly warm and friendly. Several times, Vanessa gestures or takes a breath like she wants to say more, but she always stops short. There's a guilty look in her eyes sometimes that puzzles you.
"Anyway…what about you? You're not letting the job get the best of you either, are you?"
"When is it not?" Vanessa takes another small bite of her food, only barely having reached the halfway point in eating it. Her pace was slow like she was having to force herself through it.
"There's a lot more to it than combing security footage and advising managers on whether they can kick out belligerent guests or not. The paperwork is unreal." She sighs, rubbing her brow furiously. "You'd think I was the owner of this place or something. The company is guarded, almost everything is proprietary…everything comes through me. And then there's the kids…"
She pauses and looks worried, suddenly. Her eyes flick to you, weirdly, and flit about, reading your expression carefully. You send her a confused look back, and she just as quickly shakes her head, looking normal again.
"But enough about that. I'm just…always busy! Heh." She chuckles, but the sound is so thin and forced that it makes you worry. "Always on the go! Sometimes I hardly feel like myself!"
"Van–"
"In fact, I should probably get back to it." She cuts you off and stands abruptly, thanking you for the pizza as if it wasn't your job while sliding the half she still hadn't eaten into the trash. You're barely able to squeak out an 'okay, bye' before she tosses a half-assed wave over her shoulder and scurries off.
Kara's eyeballing you, giving you an 'okay-she's-gone-now-get-back-over-here' type of look, but you ignore her and instead watch Vanessa go, thinking about how strained she had sounded. Maybe the disappearances bothered her more than she initially let on. You wouldn't press--not that you could if you wanted to--but it makes it rather hard to focus on work once you do reluctantly return.
–
Over the next few weeks, you somehow manage to make rent, and you have a sneaking suspicion as to how.
The last time you talked to Vanessa beyond quick greetings, she had asked you a little more about that night in the daycare. You thought you were being vague enough when you said the thing that had upset you was 'landlord troubles,' and she had simply nodded and moved on. Apparently not, because your next check was more than you'd expected, and there was something on the memo line about a 'performance bonus'.
Make no mistake--you were eternally grateful and a touch less stressed because of it, but…the next time you saw her you planned to give her a gentle scolding. You really had no idea what the security department had to do with payroll, anyway.
You're never able to get a straight answer about it, so eventually you move on to just trying to put a smile on her face instead. At first it started as a way for you to try paying it forward, but after you'd seen her looking stressed and teary-eyed a few more times, it became something more of a mission to make sure she'd actually be okay. At times, she seemed unnerved or even annoyed at your persistence, but others (and this is what really made you stick with it), you'd catch a split-second flash of desperation or gratitude come across her face that made you suspect that she was more appreciative of your worry than she was willing to admit.
Or maybe she had admitted it, just in less-than-straightforward ways. Once, she made a comment in passing about how you were the only one that didn't steer around her in the hallway. On another occasion she let slip how refreshing it was to have met someone that wasn't immediately cowed by her demeanor, because for all her distancing and standoffishness you had a feeling she was actually quite lonely. Vanessa was just as bad as you were about casually saying things--but at least the two of you had graduated from uneasy glances at each other to being able to see one or the other's shoulders visibly relax when eye contact was made. Progress was being made, but you were still unsure as to whether you could really call her a friend or not just yet.
–
"So, how many meetings does this make just this month?" You muse around the last few bites of the piddly sandwich that made up your lunch. It really didn't qualify as a meal, but you were unwilling to expend the energy on yourself to make anything halfway decent.
"Too many." Vanessa, similarly, was nursing a snack-sized bag of chips while giving one of her famous short replies. She looked dead tired, more so than usual, with dark circles severe enough to give her makeup a challenge in concealing them. Her chin rested in her palm, her eyes closed and body slumped into the table. If it weren't for her leg bouncing, you feared she'd fall asleep sitting up.
"I get that this is a big place, but…still. That's just too many. Do we really have that many accidents?"
"It's not really about accidents." Vanessa mumbles, peering at you with heavy eyes. "They're more about me. Like, stuff I'm supposed to be doing, or what I haven't done enough of. I never do enough…"
She sounds far away when she mentions the last part, unconsciously making you lean a little closer to her. You'd find time to feel guilty for being so nosy later, but for now you hoped that she'd let something slip in her exhaustion. You couldn't help her if you didn't know what was wrong, after all.
"He's always wanting more. Only thing that matters is his satisfaction. Doesn't matter what it does to me, or the others…"
"'He'?" You tilt your head. There's a moment of panic on Vanessa's face before she clears her throat and back-tracks.
"M-my boss. Your boss. You know, the owner. Head honcho. That guy."
She looks much more alert now, and you've had this happen enough times to know she was getting ready to shut down. This was the pattern; she'd get comfortable and slowly start to open up before realizing she was doing it and snapping shut again. You knew there was no point in pressing for more. Experience, personal mostly, told you that whatever had her so stressed in life was something she'd only divulge when she was truly ready to. You still wished she'd open up to you at least a little more, though.
"I get it." You nod and shrug, trying to act like you were completely oblivious to her floundering. "Those guys are insufferable. Anywhere you go, upper management sucks ass. They wouldn't care about us if their lives depended on it."
"...yeah." Vanessa relaxes. "Tell me about it."
"Still…at some point, enough is enough. They can't get away with everything, you know?"
You give her a sharp look, hoping it would help her get the point you were making. She returns your gaze with a strange look of her own for a moment before she forces herself to look away, never to look you in the eye again. You sigh, immediately hating how impatient it made you sound, before leaning close and giving her the most genuine smile you could muster.
“Vanessa…look, I know we only really know each other at work, but still…you don’t need to be afraid to tell me things, okay?” She makes a sour face, the one that told you you were pushing your luck with your prodding, but just this once you decided to chance it and keep going. “I know talking about stuff isn’t easy, but I’m not here to judge, you know? I’m just worried. I don’t need to be a rocket scientist to tell that something’s really, really bothering you. I’m here to listen, if you need me to.”
The veil of the tough, no-nonsense security guard falls over her and she leans back into her seat, crossing her arms. You give her a sad but understanding look to match the scrutinizing one she’d leveled at you, and the two of you go back and forth in this nonverbal way for a few minutes. You meant no harm, really, and you did your absolute best to convey this while her eyes stared into your soul, occasionally flicking this way or that over you like she was looking for something specific. She was pissed, you could tell, but still she remained seated with you, her foot bobbing from where it was perched on her knee. She looked like she was either lost in thought or fighting the urge to storm off, and you were presently unsure which scenario would be worse. The nerves were beginning to get to you, and you’re about to apologize when Vanessa abruptly stands, killing any words you had in your throat.
“I see what you’re trying to do, you know.” You look up at her, and are puzzled to see a look that was far less icy than you were expecting to find in her eyes. “Look…I appreciate it, really. You’re the only one here that’s trying. But you shouldn’t want to get close to me like that.”
You blink at her, confused.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean… if you knew everything, and if you were smart, you’d run as far away from me and this hellhole as you could. Trust me. Ignorance is bliss.”
“It’s not if it’s hurting you!” You move to stand as well, pleading with her. “Okay, so, maybe I can’t really do much of anything about it, but I can at least listen! Sometimes that really helps, you kn–”
“Some things are best left unsaid.” Before you can even take a breath to continue arguing, she’s turning away from you, heading back towards the network of corridors hidden away from public view that would lead her back to her office. She tosses a plain ‘see you’ over her shoulder, and you sag in defeat.
What did any of that even mean? If you ‘knew everything’? What was ‘everything’, exactly? Her reaction seemed odd, and not just because it was, in your opinion, a little strong given the situation. She had worded it like she was the one protecting you from something rather than her own comfort, yet you couldn’t imagine anything that would be so horrible that she’d purposely avoid getting close to you, let alone anyone else. A creeping feeling started to climb up the back of your skull, and it made you worry that maybe this was another one of those things that was far worse than you’d assumed, like with Moon. You’d assumed that had been something benign and easily explained, and look where it had led to. Still, Vanessa didn’t give you any weird feelings or sour vibes that would lead you to believe she was a dangerous person, or anything like that. You had a habit of trusting your gut, and so far it didn’t make you feel like you needed to get away from her. It made your head spin, thinking about all the possible things she could tell you that would warrant such a level of personal secrecy. Were their robotics sourced from the black market? Was FazCo secretly owned by the mob? Did they have some sort of secret meat grinder somewhere in the basement that they sent problem employees to instead of handing out write-ups? That last one was especially ridiculous, but seriously–what was all of the fuss over? Why did everything in this place have to be so damn ominous and complicated?
Good thing your shift was pretty much over, so you wouldn’t have to mull over all of this nonsense while simultaneously trying to handle searing hot food. You groan and rub at your eyes in frustration before palming around for your phone.
You don’t find it.
Confused, you pat around all of your pockets a second and even third time, never feeling the telltale lump of it tucked away against your body. Concern mounts and you turn to digging in your coat pockets, finding only your (unplugged) headphones and some lint along the way. You look back to the table you’d just been at, then under it, then run to the counter of your stand and even behind the closed shutters, but come up empty every time. Worried, you trace your steps starting from when you clocked in that day, pointedly remembering all the times you had held it in your hands. You remember checking the time on it before taking the catering cart that morning, then once again when you’d finished passing the pizza out to the kids in the daycare. Then you sat it on the edge of the security desk and got to talking with Sun as usual, and…
…oh. The daycare. Dread fills you, especially when you glance at the atrium’s overhead clock and confirm that the daycare closed a little over an hour and a half ago. Immediately, you’re weighing the pros and cons of just leaving it there and picking it up in the morning. On one hand, you could do your best to combat the lack of an alarm to wake you, but on the other…almost your entire life was either stored on or handled through that phone. It really wouldn’t be wise to leave without it.
An idea strikes you, and you eagerly look around for any of the glamrock band members. You’d only recently formally made their acquaintance, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to politely ask if one of them could retrieve it for you, right? At almost the exact same moment the overhead announcements chimed for the last call of the nightly meet-and-greets in Rockstar Row, meaning they'd be far too busy to help and shattering your confidence that you could get your phone back without being murdered. You deflate back into your chair and put it off as long as you can before necessity spurs you to trudge your way to the daycare. Maybe a staffbot could help you.
–
The pickup doors loomed over you as they far too often now seemed to do. You've never dreaded something so simple as much as you are now in your whole life.
Cursing your forgetfulness, you reach for the door, only to pause and retreat. This motion is repeated a few times before you sag and groan softly in frustration, pressing your forehead into the wood with a soft 'thunk'. You close your eyes and replay the last encounter you had in the after-hours daycare in your mind, in all its shameful glory. It's painful to relive, but as you're going through it, you remember something Moon had said that sticks out to you.
"It's rude to disturb somebody without permission."
Permission, huh? That sets the gears in your head turning.
Tentatively, you reach up and knock your knuckles against the door to the daycare, and wait. Nothing happens after a minute, about what you expected, but surely that blue menace is in there somewhere. Maybe they just hadn't heard you, you figure, so you raise your hand again, and again receive nothing in the form of an answer. A sigh of irritation leaves you despite yourself, and you try once, twice more with the same result. You begin to resign yourself to your fate of having no phone for the evening, starting to turn to leave, when you hear a noise.
It starts out as a very light scratching, like someone running their nails across the surface of the wood, and morphs into a sturdy, resolute knock. Bingo.
Your stomach jumps, both in uncertainty and hope that this plan would work, and you turn towards the door and knock again. You're answered nearly immediately this time, and you continue to go back and forth with you hope Moon on the opposite side, eventually devolving into silly patterns before you hear a low chuckle through the wood. Right. Words would probably get you further now.
"Um…Moon?" You hate how tiny your voice sounds. "Is that you in there?"
"Were you hoping for someone else, troublesome thing?" A familiar voice drawls on the other side of the barrier, and you can't help but shiver at the memories it brings. "Sorry to disappoint."
"No, no! Um. I kinda figured it was you already, so…yeah."
"You have poor self-preservation skills." Moon muses with a snicker, making you huff. "Perhaps you just find me that magnetic?"
"You wish, asshole."
"Language, prick."
"Joke's on you, I'm not in the dayca --what?"
Moon cackles, and you're left gawping at the door in shock. Normally you'd be unleashing a volley of unsavory names back in their direction, but the suddenness and the surprise of them breaking one of their own rules--or one of Sunny's, at least--leaves you partially frozen. Eventually you snicker, chewing on your lip in frustration and nodding in disbelief.
"Okay, smartass. Touché." You cross your arms behind the door, lighthearted because you know you probably deserved that, just a little bit. The two of you both settle, and there's a pause before you work up the courage to get down to business. It takes a steadying breath, but you chance to lean against the doors, eyeing the small darkened crack where the two of them met. Good thing they open outwards anyway, or you'd be inviting disaster.
"So, uh, Moon…I may or may not have, uh, left something in the daycare earlier and not noticed until now." You wince, hoping you're able to convey yourself as even halfway apologetic. "And–! And I remembered what you said last time about permission, so I just…can I come in and grab it without you hunting me? Please?"
You're greeted with silence, for the most part, and you're beginning to worry that you're either being ignored or are talking to nobody. You go to knock again, but are cut off when Moon finally answers you.
"...not a wise choice."
You stare at where you think he's probably standing, desperately trying to swallow back your mounting irritation. As much as you wanted to, popping off at him now would probably have things end up much the same as they did last time. Still, you sigh through your nose in the universal 'you're trying my patience' sort of way.
"Please, Moon? I really need my phone--it's my alarm for work and everything!" You hate how whiny you sound, but continue on anyway. "I'm sorry about last time, really…I really regret that you had to see that."
"So does Sunny." You flinch and grimace. "Our dear sunflower is quite fond of you, you know…and you have to go and give him a scare. Tsk, tsk. Naughty."
The last word is drawled slowly, rolling off his non-existent tongue in a vaguely threatening manner. It doesn't carry quite the same amount of malice as the last time you'd heard it, but it doesn't put you any less on edge. Moreso, however, a sort of guilt washes over you, and you stare down at the polished floor. Granted, you hadn't known at the time that your friend Sun was also witness to your wonderful little implosion, but it didn't matter, you supposed. That raw part of you that you so virulently hated had been witnessed, and there was no escaping that reality now.
A crawling tapping noise on the door brings you back from your thoughts, and you're suddenly aware of Moon continuing whatever he'd been saying before.
"I'm only teasing. You cannot help it, of course."
"Why are you being polite to me all of the sudden?" You rest your head against the wood, very faintly making out the soft clicking of machinery beyond as, unbeknownst to you, the animatronic mirrors the movement. "Is putting a door between us all it takes for you to not want to maim me?"
"No." Moon is quick to answer, a growl to their voice. "Rest assured, Rudeness, I could snatch you almost anytime I wanted."
The threat ends with one of those creaky, unsettling chuckles you've heard before, making you shiver. Unease aside, though, it didn't really answer your question. Did his systems get updated so he recognized you as staff now? Or did Vanessa go to bat for you and rip him a new metallic asshole?
"I'll…keep that in mind." You swallow, fingers fidgeting with one of the buttons on your work polo. "But really…you don't sound like you did last time. What's changed?"
Moon makes a noise of annoyance that you can hear, and it worries you that maybe you've pushed the limit of your prodding. There's a scratch on his side of the door, and you lean away lest he were readying to make good on his threat and yank you across the threshold.
"Mood swings." Moon says flatly, almost distantly. You weren't convinced, seeing as how they were still a volatile personality currently, but it made just enough sense that you'd take it for now. Is that what Vanessa had meant by management 'not caring'? They'd shrugged away the problem and moved on, because it apparently wasn't a constant thing? The laziness of that possibility astounded you. And what of Moon? You suddenly droop, the thought occurring to you that they probably didn't enjoy this situation either. "Nosy."
The subject quickly changes, and the two of you go back and forth like this in short bursts for at least the next twenty minutes, maybe more. Over the course of this you caught yourself beginning to grow fond of his voice, and mentally slapped yourself in embarrassment. Now that it was calm, his voice lost the growling coarseness and knife's edge hidden within it, and instead evened out to a soft rumble. It was still gravelly, but now it was far more soothing than not, paired with the occasional lilt or easygoing snicker that you found quite enjoyable. You were beginning to understand a little why he was designated the sleepytime guardian, because listening to him go on was beginning to make your eyelids heavy. You weren't trying to be rude, and he certainly wasn't boring…it was just that damn good. Finally, you remember yourself, and why you came here in the first place…plus, a glance at one of the nearby clocks tells you you're not too far away from being shuttered in for the night.
"You still haven't answered my question, you know. Why are you–"
"I'm choosing to be. I realize I did not leave the best first impression."
"Neither did I. I, uh…appreciate you not holding it against me."
"Likewise, I appreciate your respect." Moon's voice lowers, then, sounding far more soft and genuine than he ever had so far. "I am dangerous to be around, yet you still spoke to me and asked my permission to enter, as if I were a person…"
There's a chuckle then, like they were musing about something, but the bitter sadness of it strikes you.
"That is funny. And reckless. Sunny and I are in agreement that you should not do it again."
You're about to protest, quite loudly, but before any words escape your mouth the overhead intercom broadcasts the last call to leave the 'plex to stragglers and slow-moving employees like you alike. You stand helplessly, mouth agape, unable to think of how you were meant to respond to the last thing you'd heard. Eventually, urgency wins out in your racing mind, and you bite your lip.
"Um--I, uh--Moon, I really need to get my–"
A 'shwssh' noise at the floor and something bumping against your shoe cuts you off, and you look down just in time to see your phone finish sliding out from under the small crack in the daycare doors and the floor--and it's not screen-side down, thank God. With a sheepish noise of gratitude you bend to grab and pocket it, the weight of it a comforting relief.
"Oh my God, thank you." You sigh in appreciation, tapping your acknowledgement of such on the door that you hoped Moon was still lurking behind. "Sorry it's so sudden, but I, uh…I need to leave…l-like now, so…"
"Farewell, nosy little thing." They chuckle, and their voice once again takes on the somewhat threatening drawl you were familiar with, as if all too punctually the animatronic's moment of clarity passed. "Niiiiighty niiiight~"
It sounds like they scuttle off somewhere after that, and you decide to do the same before anything happened to you. You make it to the front entrance and slip out just as the shutters were beginning to lower, puffing out a relieved sigh of air. That certainly could've gone worse, you think, as you sink into the driver's seat of your car and start heading home. It's a good thing there was so little traffic this late, because there's too many things going through your head for you to focus on the road like you should.
Why did Moon sound so normal tonight? You held a coherent, nonviolent conversation with them, even joked around a little, as if you hadn't nearly been dismembered or killed by their hands before. It was a stark contrast, one that leaves you scratching your head. So, this behavioral malfunction wasn't necessarily a 24/7 thing to contend with? They seemed to have confirmed as much, but with a profound sense of sadness that stumped you even more. Moon seemed aware and regretful of these changes in demeanor, and his own admittance that he 'wasn't safe' made your chest tighten sympathetically. Not once until tonight had you, or anyone else it seemed, paused to consider Moon's own feelings on the matter. The thought of how depersonalizing and alienating that must be makes you sick. It deepened the sense of mystery, sure, but at what point was anyone in that building, including yourself, going to draw the line and start considering this from the (non)human aspect, instead of gossiping and hypothesizing about it like some mystery sci-fi novel you were all reading? The more you sit in the apartment's parking lot and stew on these thoughts, the more conflicted you begin to feel. You could absolutely stay away from Moon and avoid the numerous hazards to your health he posed, and indeed that seemed like the smart option…but on the other hand, you were beginning to feel more and more sorry for the Naptime Attendant than you probably should. You were a line cook in the food court, not a technician, so it really wasn't your problem, but you had a track record of being unable to let sleeping dogs lie. The Daycare Attendant as a whole, Moon included, was being neglected, and with the resignation that you're almost certainly biting off far more than you could ever chew, you decided you were going to try to do something about it…even if that something was just being their friend.
Lastly, there was the matter of Sun apparently agreeing that you be kept separated from Moon, which quite frankly sounded uncharacteristically vindictive of him and how you knew him to be. You decide to say something about it tomorrow, provided you'd be heading that way, as you sit on the edge of your bed, psyching yourself up for your pre-sleep shower. A yawn escapes you, your body begging you to choose rest over one last activity, but you felt ickier than you did tired.
You go to check your phone one last time for anything important you may have missed before plugging it in, and nearly drop the thing with a loud exclamation of 'FUCK!' when you finally see your new lock screen.
It was a selfie of Moon, mouth curled into a shit-eating grin, facing the camera head on and flipping you the bird.