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It's one of the shifts again. One where Andre gets an entire employee kitchen to themself at the end of it. But this time there is a twist to why they aren't jumping with joy at some alone time.
A beast at the door frame knows no mercy. There's no alone time.
And it's not like they can go home right now. even if past the clock already, even if they are really tired, a raging storm outside cut of the power in the building before they had the chance to leave. The main entrance is closed behind the metal bars and they are sane enough to not even consider going down the emergency flight of stairs in this kind of weather. Still, they would appreciate at least an illusion of choice.
Oh and the beast is there too. Taunting them. Right.
A mission to snatch somebody's stash of hot chocolate with a side of cookies to lull them to sleep seems to be in danger, with someone outwardly sabotaging it in a broad daylight (it was night, you get it). Who thought that the power outage in the whole building will give an opportunity for it to immediately seek and then chase an only person that will tolerate its behaviour at least a little bit? They could never predict that. No no.
Said machine is gracefully (almost) tiptoeing back and forth in the doorway, gripping both sides of the doorframe, cutting off their only chance of escape. One bare foot almost fully stepping in the kitchen, lightly grazing the cold floor, before quickly withdrawing back, teasing the edges of personal boundaries and programmed rules. Chirping mechanically with delight. Andre knows it's not stepping in any further purely out of false courtesy. Both of them are fully aware it doesn't care in the slightest about the rules, they were mangled and forgotten a long time ago, all for the sake of mischief.
They clench tightly a broom in one hand, disappointed shooing a robot away with it as if it was a naughty cat didn't work, and with the other they secure a thin blanket around their frame. They played that game before. They wasn't lucky yet to be anything else other than the food to play with. Last time they were brave enough to walk around in a tank top , shoulders bare and open, they paid greatly by being snatched up up and away as easy as if they were a little mouse ( no, they didn't not scream like a little girl. who told you that. In their defence, it's claws were sharp).
Andre slowly crouched down to pick up the mug, animatronic in front slowly sliding down with them, purposely matching human's pace. It's faceplate slowly rotates to the side as well. Maybe it couldn't emote, it's face static besides the doll-like eyelids, but from that angle the robot certainly looked smug, an already broad pearly smile seemed to stretch just a bit wider. It surely was fun messing with them.
Gripping the mug, and still refusing to break eye contact, Andre starts to get up on wobbly feet, exhaustion and nerves being apparent to an outsider. Jester mimics their movement, expression unreadable.
Without any warning, it lunges its heavy body forward, catching itself in the last moment on a poor doorway, limbs stretching, making the poor employee jump and almost throw the mug for a second time (it's their favourite! how rude).
Moments like this make them wonder what's so funny about it. Why them? Why not torture somebody else who hates it? Surely others will bring more weird faces for it to cackle on for later.
They blindly shove the mug on a counter top, now holding the trusty broom with both hands, pointing it towards the nuisance in front of them. Maybe it didn't posses a needed effect, but like that they felt at least a little bit in control.
"Yea yea, hilarious. Now, can you behave like a normal person for ten minutes? Or is it an unachievable task for you?" It simply rotates it's face fully before batting its long eyelashes at them, eyes emitting a soft blue glow. Truly an angel. "Right, what did I expect?" sign. "At least don't coddle me like the last time. I will scream as loud as i physically can and I know you hate it," they put a kettle on a burner, hand jerking, and internally thanking it wasn't electric. "Just keep that in mind."
Andre puts away the broom, perching it on a counter, no longer interested in looking at their opponent. Their head hurts too much today for keeping up with its shenanigans any longer than that. Late shifts are definitely taking a toll on their health. What was the last time they washed their hair? Two weeks ago?
If they heard shuffling behind their back, they didn't bother to check, even if it left them feel exposed. Instead, they began rummaging through cupboards looking for a sweet threat to better their sour mood. A free one always tastes better.
Andre never had a cat before, or any pet, really. But they imagine it would be pretty similar, instead of a small adorable kitty they have a sentient machine around three times their weight and head full of malicious intent. If it will try to curl itself on their lap, they'll probably suffocate. …Maybe it's the same with house cats, they aren't sure.
Said gigantic cat is squirming between their legs right now, laying on the floor awkwardly, legs spread in a position which a human won't find comfortable. They don't have a heart to step over it. Oh, and free legs too. It holds them down securely, its bare endo placing divots into their hard boots, being unable to feel any sensory input no more. A broken by the static giggle is playing out of still busted voice box, with dying tilt at the end. There's a distinct knocking sound along the tiles, tempo coming close to a slow melody. At least one of them was having a good time. It was weird, was it? . Andre's exhausted mind came to a thought no one can proofread before they say it out loud.
"Were you always acting like this? Would we talk if you were normal?" If I was normal?
They distantly hope their voice didn't have their natural bite in it. The knocking stopped. As silence stretched on, they reach across the counter,now that one leg is free, to turn off the burner right before the kettle will inform to the whole floor that the water was boiled, loud and proud. Honestly, they didn't expect an answer from the animatronic. If it wasn't trying to agitate them, most of the time the robot would just sway blankly at the world, seemingly lost in it's head. In sleeping mode maybe? Not like it could tell them, not like it will.
Andre pours the boiling water into the mug, already filled with the chocolate mixture. They spare a glance at a glowing clock on a counter top beside them, that little device being one of the only things illuminating the dark room. It's past 1 am already.
They glance back at animatronic — Moon. At least they believe its name was Moon, long ago. It stares back, unblinking, calculating. Did it expect something?
A few notes rung inside its chest, ending with a high one. A question? Oh. Right.
They crinkle now an empty packet again, some left over mixture falls on a table, and return their gaze back at Moon, looking at his reaction.
"Sounds familiar to you? Do you want it?" It rotates it's upper body so it was facing them right now, still between their legs, anticipating. "You can have it. Here." They crouch a bit, wanting to lay a packet besides his head, only to be rudely interrupted by a loud banging of pots from behind. Startled, and their fit don't touch the floor no more, and the next moment the scratched ceramic tiles now are too close for their liking.
They are vaguely aware that the damn mug is flying somewhere out of reach again, spilling the cheap chocolate drink all over the place. Someone is deliriously cackling right into their ear. Something cracked too.
They both sway and mechanisms are whirring with additional weight on top of them. After another jump, as if their body was launched by springs, they loosely cross their legs around a metal waist and holding to robot's silky shirt as tightly as they can in a blanket cocoon. They scream right into it's face.
"I asked you to behave for a little while! Was it so hard not to ruin my night any further? Moon!" An answer came in a form of continuous swaying back and forth with no promise of letting them go. Their legs dangled uselessly, unable to reach the floor from this height. The kitchen is a mess. They are a mess. And whatever is going on with Moon isn't pretty either.
A drawn out groan left their lips, eyes stinging. They glance back at the animatronic, with a silent question in their eyes. Are you satisfied? It blankly stares back, contemplating.
Beep. What?
It glances to side, before a calculated hand slowly extends outside of Andre's vision, landing on the small of their back. Adjusting its weight and supporting theirs, Moon carefully sets its hips on the floor, body slightly rocking them both. Now it's human's turn to stare blankly back.
Their brain is too slow to catch up with what is happening, their only reaction was to blink owlishly. They don't even know why they haven't moved. What was they waiting for? All of that complaining only for them to straddle Moon's waist in the end?
A gritting of sharp metal on a ceramic snapped them back to the present. Their precious beverage was cooling on the tiles, continuously dripping from the counter top. Noticing a movement, they turn they head further, eyeing their companion's hand scratching the floor tiles with methodical precision. It's hard to see in a near darkness what he was carving, dirtying his silky ribbons in a brown puddle.
Once it was finished, Andre lifts their head back up, eyes narrowing to see whatever was done by the jester. In a bluish light they saw a simple phrase: "GO TO SLEEP". Despite machine's effort, the writing came out aggressive, and a little ominous for anyone who is deemed to find it in the morning. Last bits of a fight left their body.
Giving up, they laid their head back down, cheek grazing wild ruffles. They chuckled weakly into its silky tunic at the image their mind conjured.
"It's like you are a boogie man," they nuzzled their face further into a soft fabric, deliriously mumbling. "Are going to taunt me in my dreams too?" They are vaguely aware of the soft light pouring over them. Maybe they are too comfortable, but they won't ever admit that. And maybe there are some things Moon won't ever admit too, even if he needs to.
They played that game before. And they will play over and over again. Both too stubborn to change their ways. But right were they are right now, it's working.
Finally, Andre closes their eyes, relieve comes and burning stops. Mind is too hazy to worry about the consequences waiting for them when the morning comes. A steady hand is too reassuring and sugary like cookies they wanted to find.
Last thing they've heard, before drifting off, was a badly off tune lullaby somewhere close to a heart.