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Like most animatronics, DJ Music Man is not particularly phased when he suddenly begins to exist. One second there is nothing, and the next, there is him. Simple.
He knows who he is--DJ Music Man. He knows what he does--performs improvised, synthesized music to a dance hall full of adoring fans. He knows where he is--the Freddy Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex, owned and operated by Fazbear Entertainment. More specifically, he is in the West Arcade, also known as the Fazcade.
His body rests atop the stage, his six arms folded against his sides. He lifts his chin off the stage, then slowly raises his body up.
“Woah!” a voice near his left front hand breathes.
His great head tilts slowly towards the sound as his optics focus on who spoke.
You.
A scan of your face pulls up your employee profile. You are a tech, as denoted by your blue jumpsuit, and assigned to the West Arcade--a responsibility which now includes DJ himself. You have worked at Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex for three months, eight days, seven hours, and nineteen minutes.
Your wide eyes stare up at him, and he registers the look of alarm on your face, as well as your elevated heart rate and breathing. It is above normal parameters for a human at rest. Had you been exerting yourself before he came online?
He turns slightly towards you, his handfalls causing the stage to shudder beneath your feet.
You let out another small gasp, your mouth opening and closing as you try to speak. The tablet you’re clutching in your trembling hands falls to the floor with a clatter. You don’t even glance down at it as your wide-eyed gaze remains fixed on DJ.
DJ lowers his gaze to the tablet, tilting his head as he stares down at it. He reaches a hand forward to pick it up, and you scramble back with a small squeak of fear, your heart rate and breathing spiking again.
The tablet is too small and flat for him to grab easily, so he places his index finger over it, sliding it across the stage, then carefully pushing it partway over the edge of the stage so he can pinch it between his thumb and forefinger.
You watch the action in stunned silence, only to back away again as he attempts to hand it to you.
DJ tilts his head in confusion again. It is your assigned tablet for the day. You need it to do your work. Why are you not taking it? He can’t ask the question aloud, but the LEDs screens in his eyes display an image of a question mark to indicate his confusion.
He moves his hand closer to you, but pauses when your pulse and breathing spike yet again. Yet, despite that, you finally take one timid step towards his hand, taking the tablet and hastily tucking it under your arm.
“Th-Th-Thanks…” you mumble.
DJ dips his head in a nod before once again facing forward and lowering his body onto the stage. He is scheduled to perform in approximately six and a half hours. His debut.
He is excited! It is a pleasant feeling. His first show, what he was built for, what his programming tells him he enjoys--and something he’s quite skilled at.
But first, you need to run a few checks on him. You move to stand in front of him, and he notices the tablet shaking in your hands as you read the screen. Your pulse and breathing have evened out somewhat, but they are still unusually high.
“A-A-Alright, DJ M-Music Man…” you say, your tone wavering nervously. “Are all your systems fully booted?”
He dips his head in a nod, the speaker on his back playing an affirmative ding as his eyes flash blinking blue checkmarks.
“You’re able to interface with your decks?” you ask, nodding towards the two large pieces of equipment at the front of the stage.
Another nod, another affirmative ding, another flash of the checkmarks.
“Demonstration, p-please,” you say shakily, taking a few large steps back before you finish speaking.
He moves to his decks, connecting to them and powering them on. He has several sound bites loaded into his own circuitry, but the decks give him access to a far wider range of sound effects, synthesizers, and sliders than what his native sound system has. Part of his control over the decks is done via a wireless connection, but his manipulation of the physical buttons, switches, and turntables is also part of it--those features are not just for show.
You jump slightly as loud dance music begins blaring through the speakers. You flinch, covering your ears. Not because the music is in any way objectionable, but because you’re just far closer to the speakers than the audience is meant to be.
“A-Alright, enough, ENOUGH!” you cry over the music.
DJ quickly stops, and the sound of the abrupt ending is not dissimilar to a record scratch. That’s entirely coincidental--DJ is not aware of that particular cliche.
You breathe out a shaky sigh. “Okay. Um. Looks like you’re all set up then…” you say, lowering your hands.
Your pulse and breathing are still high. DJ is starting to get worried, but he has no way of asking you what is wrong, if anything. He doesn’t think you’ll understand his concern if he just simply flashes the question mark eyes again.
Before he can think too much on it, you step down from the stage, leaving the dance hall in a way that would be considered abrupt and outright rude if DJ were a human. But he is not, and he has no illusions to the contrary. He understands your departure was because you finished the tasks required for his initial setup and would return to do his pre-show set up in a few hours.
DJ waits patiently atop the stage for the next few hours, content to sit behind the stage curtains in the darkened dance hall. His excitement is building, and he’s already composing songs in his head. Technically he’s supposed to be improvising them live, but…if he prepares a few during downtime, surely nobody will know the difference as long as he doesn’t repeat them?
He begins to hear people outside the curtain--the crowd gathering for his show, chattering amongst themselves in anticipation. He can hear and parse several of the conversations at once, and most are not about him at all. People asking about each other’s day, their plans after the show, or just whatever ongoing drama is happening in their lives. But many are about him.
The biggest animatronic in the ‘Plex! improvising new songs on the fly! Never the same performance twice! Six arms!
He gets to his hands, standing in anticipation. This is going to be excellent!
You enter the stage from the back entrance, so as not to walk through the gathered audience on the other side of the curtain. DJ glances over his shoulder, watching you as you skirt around the edge of the stage.
“Alright, everything still in order?” you ask him, staring down at your tablet. At least your hands aren’t shaking this time, but your pulse and breathing are still a bit higher than normal values.
But all he can do is nod, play another affirmative ding, and flash the checkmarks.
You look down at your tablet, biting your lip in thought.
DJ’s aware of the pre-show procedure. You’re supposed to open the maintenance hatch on the front of his chest and record the values shown in the pre-show readout.
But you don’t. Instead you just punch in some numbers on your tablet and tuck it under your arm, leaving again.
Well. It’s not his place to question you, he supposes…he knows he’s ready for showtime, so you must too, even without checking his pre-show readout.
You quickly make your exit, and soon the curtains open. DJ pauses only briefly to wave at the crowd before beginning his set, playing one of the songs he’d come up with earlier in the day. His middle hands operate the decks while one of his main hands clutch his headphone and the other points to the crowd, waving to hype them up.
The LED screens in his eyes add a layer of expressiveness to his show, as he displays stars during exciting moments, or swirls during wind downs, or even the faces of the Glamrocks when he interweaves their various musical themes into his songs. It does make it hard to tell where he’s looking, though, so the crowd has no idea he’s actually carefully scanning their faces for their reactions.
Elevated pulses and breathing are fairly common, and most of them seem to be from dancing and excitement. But he notices a few people seeming to just stare up at him, unmoving.
“It’s kinda…freaky, isn’t it?” one guy whispers to the person next to him.
“Yeah, why’d they give it a human face? Did they just…not learn anything from the whole Circus Baby thing?”
“Right? Giant clown or giant spider…pick your poison,” someone else says with disdain.
Oh. DJ hadn’t been expecting this. His appearance is…strange? That’s news to him.
Is that why you reacted how you did? Is his design so poorly thought out that even his own tech is put off by him?
The music stutters as DJ considers this.
He scans the audience. Most of them aren’t actually looking at him, but the ones who are don’t look happy. Well, some of them do. There are some looks of awe and admiration being directed his way, but somehow it’s the looks of contempt, derision, and outright fear that his optics zero in on.
The song stops entirely as DJ continues to scan the audience, his middle hands laying still on his decks while his main hands lower to rest on the stage. Even the LED screens stop displaying anything, leaving his eyes blank as he stares out at the crowd.
People are upset by him? He is…frightening? Ugly? Creepy?
He quickly shuffles back from his decks, hiding in the shadows at the back of the stage. The curtain closes in front of him as he lays atop his stage, burying his face in his hands.
This isn’t how his shows are supposed to go. It’s wrong. He’s wrong.
Is he…broken?
*
Ten minutes later, you’re jogging behind your boss, Damon, as he storms to the dance hall. “We cannot have mistakes on debut nights!” he says for the umpteenth time.
“I know,” you repeat.
“This is all the press will talk about for weeks. Maybe even months! First. Impressions. Are. EVERYTHING!” he says, slapping the back of his hand against his palm with each word. He turns to you. “You need to figure out what happened and get him back online. Tomorrow’s show needs to be perfect.”
“I get it!” you say, wincing at the snappishness in your own tone.
Damon arches a brow pointedly.
“I-I mean, I-I know that. It will be, I promise!” you say quickly.
He turns away with a huff, leading you into the now closed and emptied dance hall. He pushes a button on his tablet to open the stage curtains, and you see the DJ huddled near the back of his stage.
Damon storms up to the stage. “DJ. Systems check. Now.”
DJ doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t need to. The systems check runs itself at Damon’s command, and all DJ needs to do is play an affirmative ding and show his checkmarks when they all come back clean. The sound and the eye checkmarks happen almost involuntarily when the check is complete.
Damon glances to you. “Get up here!” he snaps, literally snapping his fingers and pointing to the stage beside himself as if you were a trained dog.
You wince, both at the treatment and the prospect of getting up onto the stage with the giant robot. Especially if it’s malfunctioning…
But for the moment, Damon yelling at you again is a more upsetting thought than the giant clown spider, so onto the stage you go.
“Open the maintenance hatch,” Damon says.
You glance nervously towards DJ, who still doesn’t seem to be reacting to either of you outside of that one ding. “H-H-His head is blocking it…” you protest meekly.
Damon rolls his eyes. “Then tell him to lift his head!”
You draw in a shaky breath, taking one timid step towards the massive animatronic. “D-DJ M-Music Man?” you ask.
His head turns towards you slightly, and for the first time you notice his expression is oddly glum. He’s not quite as expressive as the Glamrocks, but his brows are definitely upturned in a slightly melancholy look.
It…makes it a little more difficult to be afraid of him…but certainly not impossible.
“C-Can you…lift your head so I can get to the maintenance hatch?” you ask.
He lifts his head, even moving his arms out of the way. You feel your hands shaking slightly as you step into the shadow of his huge head. You fumble awkwardly, trying to find the panel. It’s quite hidden--the seam would be almost invisible in a brightly lit room, and in the shadow of the back of the stage, it’s impossible to make out.
Damon watches you wryly. “You did do this as part of the pre-show check, didn’t you?”
DJ feels your hand shaking as you press on random parts of his front, trying to find the panel.
“Y-Yes, of course!” you lie quickly.
Damon’s eyes drift up to DJ, whose melancholy expression has shifted to one of concern as he feels you fumble for the hatch. “DJ Music Man. Was the full pre-show check run before your most recent show?”
Something inside DJ tells him to play his negative buzz. You didn’t do the full check. He doesn’t know why, but you didn’t.
But he also knows you’ll get in trouble if Damon realizes that. And DJ can’t quite figure out why, but he doesn’t want that for you.
So he plays the affirmative ding, feeling you freeze in surprise as he does.
Damon regards DJ thoughtfully a moment, then lets out an aggravated sigh. “I have my own damage control to do with all this,” he says, gesturing vaguely to DJ. “You need to figure out what happened and fix it. Stay as late as you need to.”
You wince. “Y-Yeah, okay…”
With that, Damon turns on one heel and leaves.
You sigh heavily, though yours is more of a drawn out release of fatigue than Damon’s indignant huff.
Once Damon’s gone, you return to trying to find the maintenance hatch. A shadow moves beside you, and you let out a scream of alarm when you see one of DJ’s middle hands slowly moving towards you.
You scramble back, crying out “Don’t!! Please!!” desperately, throwing your arms over your head defensively.
But DJ had been prepared for that reaction. You’re afraid of him, after all. But he has no way to ask you to move or warn you about what he’s doing--no way to help you without scaring you.
He pushes on the maintenance hatch door with one finger, unlatching it and letting the small panel lift open.
You blink, lowering your hands. “O-Oh…” you say after a moment.
DJ watches you quietly, all of his arms now resting on the stage.
“Y-You were…um…trying to help?” you ask timidly, still not approaching him.
He hadn’t been expecting you to try to speak to him, so his brows raise slightly in surprise. He lowers his head in a nod.
You regard him nervously a moment before asking, “Wh-Why did you tell Damon I did the full pre-show check?”
Predictably, he stares blankly at you, unable to answer. He scans the library of images he can display on his LED screens, but even that doesn’t yield anything particularly helpful to your question.
You realize this a moment after he does--his ability to answer such open-ended questions is limited.
“You um…You realize I…didn’t do the full pre-show check, right? I was supposed to open up that hatch and check the readout.”
DJ nods.
“S-So you…lied? To Damon?”
DJ hesitates, actually glancing away from you slightly as if guilty. But after a moment, he nods again.
“Why?” you ask, too perplexed at the admission to remember to stick to yes or no questions.
DJ considers, wanting to do something other than stare at you blankly. So he points offstage, the direction Damon had gone.
You glance towards where he’s pointing. “...Damon?” you guess.
His eyes display an angry emoji, the typical circular face with an angry glare and downturned brows, its normally yellow coloring shifted to an outraged red.
“Damon was…angry?” you guess.
DJ nods, doing his best to smile kindly at you.
You blink several times, processing this. “So you…lied to keep me out of trouble…?”
He nods again, more eagerly this time, pleased you got it so quick.
“O-Oh…” you murmur, stunned. You’ve never heard of an animatronic doing that…though you suppose even if any of the Glamrocks or the Daycare Attendant had done something like that, then by the very nature of it you wouldn’t know. But they also seem very rules oriented…except for maybe Monty, but you don’t think his proclivity for rule-breaking translates into sticking his neck out for a lowly tech like yourself.
DJ watches you curiously. You don’t seem as happy about it as he had hoped.
“U-Um…n-not that…I don’t appreciate it, but…it’s…not a good idea to lie about things like that…” you say gently.
He blinks in confusion, canting his head as he waits for you to elaborate.
“I-I mean…I um…I-I only skipped it because you’ve just been activated. S-So I assumed the…the readout would just say you’re at peak efficiency,” you say, inwardly cringing at your own hypocrisy. You’re explaining to him why he shouldn’t lie, but you’re not being entirely honest either. Your assumptions about his readout were your justification, but not your primary reason.
Still, you continue, “B-But…if a tech isn’t doing their full job…the higher ups should know,” you say. Much as you hate the thought of Damon tearing into you or the other techs, you don’t want the animatronics to malfunction or break down because a tech is shirking their duties and the animatronics are covering for them.
You took this job because you like animatronics…You’ve always liked them. Granted, you’d never seen one as big as DJ before, but you being scared of his size doesn’t mean you want to see him break down. Not even a little.
DJ processes this a moment, then dips his head in a nod.
“So…don’t lie about your maintenance, okay?”
He nods again.
You chew your lip thoughtfully, staring up at him. “And…I promise I won’t skip tasks again. So…y-you’ll have nothing to even lie about…okay?”
The corners of DJ’s mouth lift into a small smile at that, and he nods a third time.
Just as you think you’re starting to feel more at ease around the giant animatronic, your gaze drifts down to the still open maintenance hatch on his chest.
It’s not hard to feel at ease standing back a few yards, but it will be when you’re once again in his shadow.
But…you’ve already told DJ not to lie to cover for you, and you can’t exactly afford to lose this job…and DJ seems kind, even if he’s incredibly large and imposing.
You’re trying to nerve yourself to take a step towards him when he holds up a hand, pointing at you.
“Me?” you ask, pointing at yourself in turn.
He nods, then his eyes switch to another emoji. Its mouth is open in a frozen scream of fear, its large white eyes wide and the area around them tinted blue to emphasize the horror-stricken expression.
…You’re tempted to pretend he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you already feel bad for the one slight fib you told only moments ago.
“...Scared,” you say quietly.
He nods, lowering his head slightly, watching you curiously.
You rub the back of your head, averting your gaze. “I-I…um…a-a-a bit?” you stammer out.
DJ had already realized you are scared of him, of course…but having you confirm it feels worse than he’d imagined it would.
The look of hurt on his face makes you wish you’d lied…even as you realize that that would be a fairly short-term solution.
“I-I’ve just…never worked with an animatronic as big as you,” you say, fidgeting with the tablet in your hands. “I…I didn’t…realize it would upset you. I-I’m sorry, I…I didn’t…want that…”
DJ checks his pre-loaded knowledge of human behavior and confirms that humans do not have much control over their fear responses. They cannot simply decide not to be afraid. It’s…helpful, to be aware of that.
Maybe…he can help you. He slowly reaches out one of his main hands towards you, keeping it low to the ground, practically sliding the back of his hand across the stage.
You resist the urge to step back. “Wh-What are you doing?”
He curls two of his fingers in, leaving only his index finger extended. He rests his hand on the stage, the tip of his finger now only a couple feet away from you. At your confused look, he flexes his finger twice, beckoning you forward. When you lift your gaze to his face, he’s smiling hopefully.
Is he…trying to coax you towards the hatch? You resist the urge to dismiss the idea. Maybe it’s worth trying to go along with.
You step towards his finger, slowly reaching out a hand and resting it on the padded surface of his glove.
DJ grins at this, and you hear the sound of audience applause echoing from his speaker as spinning stars display in his eyes. Despite your nervousness, the gesture causes you to let out a small laugh. His grin widens and he slowly begins moving his hand towards himself.
You keep your hand on his finger as he slowly walks you to the maintenance hatch. It feels a bit silly, but it does keep your mind off of just how massive and imposing he is. Mostly. It’s a good start…You can at least start to imagine a future where you can approach him without being afraid.
Once you’re in front of the open hatch, DJ plays the applause sound again. He beams down at you brightly, even though you can’t see his expression from under his chin.
“Th-Thank you…” you say, trying to focus more on the readout in front of you than the massive animatronic head above you.
DJ’s show had been so short the readout gives the same result as you’d imagined it would have given before the show. No degradation in his joints, no loss of integrity in his chassis or endoskeleton, no dust in the fans, all wires and connectors operating at peak efficiency.
You record the report on your tablet, then close the hatch and walk backwards a few paces to look up at DJ. “W-Well…the…good news is, the readout came back fine…”
You take a few more steps back, more to avoid craning your neck back so much to look at him, and less out of nervousness at being too close to him. Not that that’s completely gone yet.
“So…what happened?” you ask him. “Why’d…Why’d you stop your show?”
DJ winces guiltily. He’d been so focused on helping you he’d almost forgotten about his show. He hesitates a moment, then points offstage.
“The dance floor?” you guess.
He shakes his head, pointing again.
Your second guess takes a bit longer. “The audience?”
Affirmative ding.
You glance back at him, but before you can ask why the audience was a problem, you see his eyes are once again displaying the scared emoji.
“The audience was scared?” you ask, frowning.
He nods.
You glance out at the dance floor contemplatively. “I…I don’t think the audience was scared of you, DJ. They would have just left if they were.”
DJ frowns slightly. He’s not getting his message across…not entirely. It had been more than just their fear that had rattled him. His eyes shift to the angry emoji, then to a green faced emoji making a look of disgust, then back to fear, continuing to switch between the three symbols until you speak again.
You frown. “Angry, disgusted, scared?” you say. “So…you’re…worried the audience just didn’t like you? For multiple reasons?” you reason out.
He nods, the cycling emojis being replaced with a check mark before his eyes once again go blank.
You hum softly to yourself in thought, scratching your chin. This seems like something a therapist or counselor should be handling more than a tech, but you already know Fazbear Entertainment doesn’t extend such services to the animatronics, much as they sometimes seem to be in need of them.
Even if you were willing to lie to DJ and assure him that everyone in the audience was enjoying the show, you know he wouldn’t be fooled. You know his optics can pick out their expressions even in the dark, you know his AI can make sense of those expressions, and you know his audio receptors can pick out conversations on the dance floor even over his own music. DJ Music Man is simply far more aware of his audiences’ reactions than any human DJ could ever be.
It was supposed to be a way for him to engage with their reactions in real time, not a source of stress for him.
Before you speak, you see DJ once again pointing to himself, his brow turned up in worry. More distressingly, the screens in his eyes now display a series of white cracks, creating the illusion that the plexiglass covers are about to shatter. Of course, you’re familiar with the effect--it’s something DJ can do when he does something particularly loud and bombastic, usually near the end of the set, to convey that the intensity of his own music had blown his own mind.
It’s supposed to be funny, but right now the effect borders on morbid.
You cant your head, frowning sympathetically at what you think he’s suggesting. “You’re…saying you’re…broken?” you ask softly.
He dips his head in a nod, his eyes returning to their blank state, even as his brows are still turned glumly upwards.
Your shoulders slump, and you wish you had the nerve to get close enough to pat his chin reassuringly. But you don’t. Not yet, anyway.
“Oh DJ, you’re not broken! Not at all…” you say gently. “Not everyone is going to like every show at the ‘Plex. That’s perfectly normal. And…I mean, I’m pretty sure every animatronic at this place has scared someone at some point. Even Freddy.”
DJ cants his head at that. Of course he hasn’t met Freddy yet, but he knows he’s the face of the Pizzaplex, and indeed Fazbear Entertainment, beloved by kids and adults alike! How could anyone be scared of him?
DJ doesn’t have to ask anything. His skeptical look tells you enough.
“Well…I mean even he’s much bigger than a human. And some people are just…intimidated by animatronics in general. Or by anything that’s new and unfamiliar. But it’s not because those things are bad or broken. Some people…just need time to adjust…” you explain.
DJ wonders if that’s the case for you, but you continue before he can figure out how to convey that question.
“Even if some people tonight were scared of you…or just…weren’t enjoying the show…you shouldn’t take it personally. You are who you are. Not everyone will like you or your work, and that’s okay. It…it hurts sometimes. But it’s normal. I mean, not everyone likes me either…but I know I shouldn’t take it personally,” you say. You don’t add that to be self-deprecating--you’re trying to convey to him that you do know some of what he’s going through, and that you’re capable of following your own advice.
DJ cants his head at that, then smiles slightly, pointing to himself.
“You?” You’re not sure what he’s getting at for a moment, then you realize he’s responding to your last statement. “You…like me?” you guess. You’re both relieved and flustered when he nods eagerly.
You laugh nervously. “I…I like you too, DJ,” you say awkwardly. You suppress a grimace at how forced it sounds, even though you do mean it. He’s kind and helpful, and he would be an amazing animatronic to work with if he weren’t so big…but even that, you think you can adjust to in time.
You feel a twinge of guilt at how surprised he looks.
“Being intimidated by someone doesn’t mean you dislike them, you know,” you say. You wonder if he does know that. Some of his social protocols are less advanced than the Glamrocks, since he’s not a walkabout, meet-and-greet animatronic.
But from the contemplative look on his face, you guess he didn’t know.
“Listen, DJ…” you say gently, taking a couple steps towards him and hesitantly reaching out, putting a hand atop his glove. Your gaze is lowered so you don’t notice his pleased grin at the fact that you approached him on your own. For no real reason, at that!
“Sometimes new attractions take a bit of time to find their audience. People don’t know what to expect, so…reactions can be mixed. But I think you’ll find your audience eventually. Or…they’ll find you, moreso,” you say with a weak laugh. “The people who don’t like your show won’t come back, and the people who do like it will bring friends they know will also like it.” That’s a simplified version of the process, but you think there’s enough truth to it to bring DJ the reassurance he needs.
DJ, of course, doesn’t reply, but his soft grin makes you think you said the right thing.
“So…do you think you’ll be able to do tomorrow’s show? All the way through, no stuttering, no giving up?”
DJ nods eagerly, stars in his eyes as he plays an affirmative ding.
“Good,” you say gently. Though you’re not sure Damon will take DJ’s promise as seriously as you do. He’ll want something more than just a good readout and an animatronic’s promise.
“How about a practice run? Just a few songs. So I have something to bring back to Damon.”
DJ smiles brightly for a moment, but it quickly fades. One of his middle hands points to you, while his main set of hands covers his ears. Or well, his earpieces, moreso.
It takes you a moment to realize what he means. You had probably come across as annoyed when he’d done his quick demonstration before. “Oh! I was just too close to the speaker before, that’s all,” you say. You climb down from the stage, moving towards the middle of the dance floor.
“Okay. You can start now,” you say.
DJ nods, returning to his decks. He starts up a song, though it’s not quite as bombastic as what he’d first tried to play for you, or what he’d started playing in his show.
“Come on, don’t hold back!” you call up to him.
He nods again, this time putting more energy into both his song and his performance. His middle hands operate the deck while his main set waves rhythmically to hype up the crowd. His whole body bobs up and down to the beat of his song, his head nodding along as he gets back into his groove, and his eyes flash stars and music notes along with the music.
“I’m going to record a few minutes, alright? Just to show Damon?” you call up to him.
One of his hands gives a thumbs up, so you lift your tablet and begin recording. You take a five-minute video, erring on the side of making it too long rather than too short, and send it off to Damon.
Once DJ sees you lower your tablet, he brings the song to a close. He knows your shift is supposed to be over. Damon said you would stay until DJ was “fixed”, which now he is.
You glance up at him, canting your head. “Oh! Um, you could…keep playing if you want? I wouldn't mind…staying for a few more songs…I-I mean I’ll…have other work to do during your shows most of the time…”
DJ smiles warmly at you. You’re choosing to stay with him, when you could be leaving for the day. He resumes his music, happily performing for however long you’re willing to listen.
Maybe tomorrow, his show won’t be a complete hit with every single person in the audience…but tonight, everyone in the dance hall likes him and his music.
You were right. His audience did find him.