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if you weren't relying on this job to put food on your table and a roof on your head, you’d burn the freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex to the ground for a piece of pocket lint and a pat on the head.
maybe it’s a bit dramatic to say that— you're paid well, you like your mostly robot coworkers, and most of the time (emphasis on most and not always) the work is manageable enough.
the customers are another story.
sun notices the minute you walk in the daycare. you look like you're a minor inconvenience away from murder— which naturally, makes him feel inclined to prod a little.
“well, someone’s awfully sulky today!”
while you’d typically crack a smile at the upbeat jester animatronic, his enthusiasm in the face of your misery is grating. there’s no energy left in your body to banter with him— you were using most of it to drag your feet over to the shoe caddy, toolbox in hand to fix up its shelf, now hanging askew due to a busted bracket.
“can it, sunny, i don't wanna hear it.” you mutter, more venomous than you intend it to be. he doesn’t even blink at your grumpiness. instead, he happily holds up the shelf while you inspect it and grab a new bracket to secure it.
at least he’s trying to make himself useful. you think to yourself.
his faceplate tilts slightly, staring at you with that ever present grin. his staring isn’t really helping, but you don’t fault him for it. you’ve gotten used to his antics by now. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” sun questions.
you shake your head.
“got yelled at by a customer— now, if you could please just drop the topic—” you sigh exasperatedly, not even bothering to finish the sentence as you sit down cross legged in front of the shoe caddy, slumping slightly in defeat.
much too persistent for his own good, sun decides that inquiring even further about the incident that seems to have you beat down is a good idea. “what’d you do?”
you consider feigning offense as he insinuates it’s somehow your fault. but you don’t. you just shrug it off.
“my job.”
“ah, they do hate it when you do that.” he tuts.
“it wasn’t even that big of a deal,” you mutter, getting the bracket in place and marking it, “this one kid just so happened to walk up to the arcade machine i was putting an out of order sign on. i felt bad, so like, obviously, i hand the kid a few tokens, apologize politely, explain— and you’d think it’s all good right?”
you pause mid-ramble as you fix up the shelf. in all your misery, you forgot that you don’t even know exactly what caused the shelf to collapse like this. you consider asking.
sun leans in just a bit too close, interrupting your train of thought as you stare at the shelf. when you glance at him, he gives you a little nod.
go on, he seems to say wordlessly. he’s waiting silently for you to continue your story. it’s never not unnerving when he’s quiet.
“...anyways, uh... the kid’s dad came by and got mad or something. didn’t understand why i couldn’t just let him play one game since it looked perfectly functional— keep in mind, this is the arcade machine that literally kept eating up tokens only to not function, and shocked kids when it did— so i kept trying to explain why i couldn’t exactly do that. but for some reason, it was such a big fucking deal—”
“language.” he chides.
“...fricking deal. of course, i had to be berated for it. i offered to grab them more faz-tokens as compensation and i thought the problem was solved... and then i checked and saw he still left a bad review. definitely gonna hear about that from management.” sun hands you a tool as you continue to speak.
“but now i’m upset, i’m definitely in trouble, and my face hurts from the whole customer service smile i was holding that entire conversation. like seriously, i don’t know how i’m expected to do that 24/7.” you stop at your last remark and stare at sun and his unchanging expression. “...my bad.”
the awkward silence only lasts for a moment, thankfully. you’ve spoken your piece— sun decides to speak his.
“you did your best.” he says simply, as you finally fix the shelf into place. he pats you on the head and doesn't even hide his amusement when you sulk.
“i know that tone, sunny, you're making fun of me—”
“poor thing.” he continues, grinning brightly as he makes a show of patronizing you. sun’s hand continues to pat the top of your head gently, like he would when consoling a child. or when greeting a dog. has he,,, ever seen a dog before? probably not.
you groan and manage to shove his arm away.
“i do mean it though,” he continues, his tone still lighthearted— but notably more earnest as he notes your expression. sun helps you put your tools away neatly back into the toolbox, even though it really is just a one-man job.
“you tried your best,” sun closes the toolbox with a flourish and a click, “...and for that—!”
with a dramatic flick of his wrist, bells jingling as he does, sun produces a gold star sticker from… somewhere. he holds it up for you to see.
and then gently presses it onto the tip of your nose.
“to my favoritest human employee here! and my bestest of friends!” it’s hard to bite back a smile at those words. even if his little show of empathy and affection is much too theatrical for your current mood.
“whatever.” you shrug a little, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching into a little grin. standing up and grabbing the toolbox, you give him an awkward thumbs up.
“thanks. and uh… sorry. for being mean. i guess.”
sun shakes his head dismissively, bouncy and bright as ever. “oh, don't mention it!”
something about his seeming lack of offense towards your prickliness makes you feel even more guilty. still, he gives you a wave as you head out, “bye-bye”-ing happily as you walk away, sticker stuck to your nose and smile on your face like an idiot.
you decide you’ll find a way to make it up to him later. you figure he deserves that much for putting up with everything.
meanwhile, sun is taking mental notes on more stuff to break of whenever you’ve been away for too long. just in case, of course. maybe you’d have more interesting customer encounters to rant about. and hey, you could use the company, couldn’t you?