#kindreddraickin 1

[mute-call]

"Uh-- sure. I guess." The real closure process is probably significantly less "simple" than having a conversation together, but he'll explain that when and if she ever starts believing that he's telling the truth.

...which might come sooner than expected.

"That was a smart way to get confirmation," he says, not pointing out that if she could hallucinate someone talking to her, her mind could probably also "play" an old recording and fill it with whatever she expected to hear.

"Woah, hey, are you alright? I know it's a lot to take in, but I'm not... scary. Or malevolent. Nothing's really changed from five minutes ago." Except, perhaps, her entire concept of life and death.

"Actually--" Alright, Steven. Take it slow. She's already freaked out enough as it is. "So, the whole 'seeing you as an endo without its suit on,' that's not entirely true. I'm not the only ghost here, if you know what I mean?"

He gives her a moment to let that sink in before he continues, as gently as he can:

"You've heard all the old rumors about the company, right? Those children who went missing years and years ago? Uh... yeah." Does he have to spell it out for her? "Basically, they're not missing. They're dead. And they're stuck here too."

There's a lot to cover about the whole situation, and Steven watches her carefully for any signs that he needs to slow down; she's only just begun to believe him (and maybe even recognize that he's not so bad after all), and he doesn't want her to shut down and start denying everything again.

"They're not as... level-headed as me, is all I'll say. I mean, they already killed me, and they still hate my guts. Heh. ...anyway, we think whoever got them used to work here. An adult, obviously, but we really don't know much besides that. They don't know his name, and when I asked them to describe him, they basically just said he was, uh, big and scary and mean. So. Not exactly the kind of description you can take to the cops."

He's pretty sure they don't even care about or recognize the gender of their killer, considering that they've remained hostile to the new guard, who doesn't appear to be a man. It's possible they simply haven't gotten a good look at her, but Bell's more confident in the theory that their hatred extends to any and all adults. It would help explain a lot about incidents at previous locations and the way the other models reacted not only to employees, but even to parents who would come into the building.

"I don't think you'll be able to give any of us closure. I-- I think we're just stuck here. Forever. That's why I wanted to talk. I know you don't like me very much, but you have no idea how, um. How nice it is to just interact with someone who can hold a conversation."

He picks at his nails, not quite meeting her gaze. This isn't how he had expected this night to go, and now that she knows the truth, he's not sure whether he'd prefer that she pack her bags and stay far away from Freddy's, or come back to keep him company.

"I think we started off on the wrong foot. I know this must be a lot to take in, but basically, I'm real, I'm here, and I haven't lied to you. Maybe we can start again?"

He offers his hand, uselessly, and gives her a shaky smile.

"I'm Steven. I'm the guy in all those cop shows who dies a--a day from retirement. Heh. It's nice to actually meet you."

[Another frustrated groan; sure, there were other options out there, but this was the most secure job she could ask for. Close to home, easy to get the hang of, and a solid job option...at least until this place finally shut down. She'd definitely go job-hunting one of these days, but for now, she NEEDED this. She refused to be kicked out of her apartment because she couldn't keep up -- she refused to go back home. Freddy's obviously wouldn't last forever ( it was barely hanging on as-is ), but it was the best job she could take on short notice with no formal training. She couldn't just quit now.]

❝ Like I said: I can't quit. I've got my reasons, okay? ❞ [Reasons that, theoretically, her mind would already understand. She really didn't like the direction this was heading in.]

[He couldn't leave the building, presumably until he received closure...again, she'd have to test that theory out later when she actually finished her shift, but yeah, that totally sounded like a ghost thing. Ghosts were always miserable or had some sort of unfinished business, right? And of course, this guy's business was the most inconvenient thing ever.]

❝ And you need me to keep you company. ❞ [April sighed. If there was any merit to the idea that this actually was his closure ( or that he was even a ghost! Quit deluding yourself, April! ), she hoped that the whole "closure" process wouldn't take too long. There was only so much she could take before she snapped.] ❝ Of course it couldn't be something simple. It never is. ❞

[April nodded at his interpretation of her little "test;" if he could properly recite it, then she could confirm it via tape. Plus, it'd give her a good excuse to listen to it and compare voices without making it sound like she NEEDED advice. Win-win...unless, of course, this little exercise proved his existence.]

[It wasn't as concise as she'd wanted, but he gave a vague overview; it shouldn't have, but the way his recitation choked him up made her doubt herself. She didn't know this guy at all; she hadn't even listened to his messages. She wouldn't be this emotional over anything related to him. But...this felt genuine. Real. A chill ran down her spine, but she tried not to acknowledge it.]

[The animatronics moved around, they were dangerous, they'd kill you if they got your hands on you. These were indisputable facts if he'd died the way he said he did, but April was ( obviously ) skeptical. They were just robots. They had the strength and means to do that, sure, but they wouldn't -- these were kids' entertainers. They wouldn't have been programmed to do anything like that.]

[Even though she raised an eyebrow at the animatronic bit, she gave a defeated sigh at his follow-up. He'd genuinely been trying to help -- in an awfully annoying way, but it was help. No matter the case, he seemed to genuinely believe these robots were dangerous. Bullshit, but he was so shaken-up over it that he clearly wasn't manipulating her. This was his own delusion.]

❝ Sure. Okay. ❞ [She wouldn't acknowledge the flaws in his explanation, not now -- she just had to compare his voice and the message he'd left. She wouldn't dissect the whole story just yet.]

[Not acknowledging his final words, April turned and pressed "play." She absentmindedly flicked through cameras, finding each animatronic as she listened...]

[Another shiver ran down her spine; just like he said, he claimed to be finishing up his last night. There was something unnervingly upsetting about this message, especially if she was actually speaking to his spirit -- he sounded so dismissive of the danger, reassuring the listener multiple times that there was "nothing to worry about." He gave a presumably-corporate explanation for the animatronics' behavior ( assuming people were endoskeletons? That also sounded like bullshit, but whatever ), specifically mentioning being forcibly shoved into crossbeams and animatronic wires...]

[Fuck. Fuck.]

[April muted the message again. She didn't want to think about the implications here, but she had to. Fuck, this guy was real. This was actually a ghost. He had the intimate knowledge of that call, and his voice -- fuck. This was real. This was real.]

[She rubbed her hands against her face several times. She would have smacked herself if it'd make a difference. Her breathing quickened, like she was on the verge of a panic attack; her perception of reality was being called into question, after all. Eventually, she forced herself to calm down with a muffled scream -- okay. Okay. She could totally talk to this guy, knowing he was a deceased night guard. She'd have to eventually.]

❝ Okay -- ❞ [An exasperated sigh, for different reasons this time around. April stared at the cameras, refusing to look at him now that she knew the truth.] ❝ ...I believe you. Goddammit. ❞

❝ So -- so, now what? ❞ [Presumably, help him with his ghost business ( as if she could listen to this guy drone on and hover for that long ). She'd been so arrogant and stubborn until now; admitting defeat wasn't easy.] ❝ I just have to sit here and talk to a ghost, like a totally sane person. Okay. ❞ [Not really, but maybe it'd make this guy move on. Being stuck in a kid's pizzeria ( while it was shut down ) sounded like a terrible way to live your afterlife.] ❝ There's NOTHING else I can do? ❞

[It wasn't like she wasn't sympathetic, but being hit with a revelation like this sort of overwhelmed her natural responses. This was a ghost. She'd help if he needed her to, but she'd have to get used to this first. Also, he would HAVE to quit backseat-guarding, or she might just kill him again.]

[mute-call]

"You can always quit. You probably took this job because you were desperate for the money, but there's going to be something else out there." Better to rely on food stamps and shelters until she can land another position than get herself killed for minimum wage. If there's a different reason she's here, then she can forget that one, too; if she wants to leave, she should leave.

...that had been Steven's problem. He had liked this place too much.

"Yeah. I mean, I... haven't really tried, but I'm pretty sure I can't leave the building." It's a little embarrassing to admit that he hasn't tested the boundaries of his newfound existence, but in his defense, there's a whole lot of nothing waiting for him back home. Besides, he feels almost drawn to this place. Like this is where he belongs. Maybe he hasn't attempted to leave because he knows this is where he feels most comfortable, despite it all.

"It's, uh, probably got something to do with wh-where I died? Like I'm stuck, or something. Maybe until I get that closure you were talking about."

So she's finally starting to entertain the thought that he's been telling the truth. What's gotten through to her? Is it the fact that he hasn't flickered out of existence yet, or morphed into something else, or started talking about her deep-seated and intensely personal insecurities like a proper figment of her imagination?

"Okay. Let's say that." Steven's confused for a moment, unsure whether she's suddenly looking for advice, or whether this is some kind of test. ...probably the latter, considering how self-assured she is.

"You want me to say it, and then you play my recording to see if I got it right?" Would it be more or less awkward if he said his own message word-for-word? He has it practically memorized, now that it's one of the few things he can interact with on his own.

"I... tell you I'm, um, finishing up my last week." Why is he getting emotional about this? There's no use in feeling sorry for himself at this point.

"There's this thing I have to read for the company, and then I warn you about the animatronics moving around. The important part of that is that if they catch you, they'll stuff you into one of the spare suits we keep in the back. Getting crossbeams forced through you isn't a fun way to go, believe me. That's usually the part of the tape where people start wondering what they've gotten themselves into, or when they start taking this whole thing seriously."

He doesn't meet her eye.

"I told you, I was just trying to help. Most people who get this job are practically kids, y'know? I wasn't trying to insult you by making sure you made it out of here at the end of the night."

[So the doors shutting themselves was almost impossible, then -- April shifted uncomfortably, distracting herself by checking the cameras. She wasn't an electrician, but considering that "running out of power" would force the doors open, maybe he was right. Was it just a fluke, then? She wasn't special. She didn't have powers, not as far as she knew. What was more likely, the door coincidentally closing when she needed it to, or her somehow influencing it?]

[She knew which answer she'd prefer.]

[Her spectral nuisance apologized ( again, something she questioned ) and finally, finally backed off. She could breathe easy now. Maybe she'd been a bit harsh ( even she could realize that ), but what was she supposed to do? Her own delusions wouldn't leave her alone or let her do her damn job. Was that how hallucinations usually worked? Maybe this wasn't just sleep-deprivation. Maybe she was schizophrenic or something.]

[Burying that thought, April wheeled her chair over to the door on her right and checked the light; no Chica. She opened the door and checked the one on her left; no Bonnie. No threat here. Breathing a small sigh of relief, grateful for the silence from the "ghost" and the animatronics, she absentmindedly switched from camera to camera.]

[April was finally able to focus, but her mind wandered, questioning the reality she'd been presented with; that door might not have shut entirely on its own, and it wasn't the "ghost's" doing. Actually, the potential that she might be speaking to the undead was starting to hit her, especially with how their personalities and attitude contrasted. Her inner psyche, full offense, was a total bitch. This guy was annoying as all Hell, but he wasn't an asshole...the only time he'd even remotely sounded like her was when they argued, but their arguments were based on things that April was a firm skeptic on.]

[April threw a glance to the tape that phone guy had recorded; she didn't want to listen to his advice, obviously, but he'd said something earlier about sounding like this guy. That wasn't information that her brain had retained, clearly, so...was there any truth to that? Did she even want to know? She didn't feel like having a crisis at 3AM. Maybe she'd even fallen asleep and was having a weird nightmare -- alas, there was no way to tell, since physical sensations followed her into her sleep.]

[April ran her hands over her face; she'd get over it. She'd have to, if she wanted to keep her sanity.]

[Of course...that'd be difficult when her "ghost" kept speaking up. April sighed; he was right. This guy never knew how or when to shut up, and clearly, asking him to pipe down wouldn't last. However...he made a point that he wouldn't follow her home. Maybe she could test that out. Delusions kind of...had to follow you, didn't they? If he didn't...]

❝ I can't quit. ❞ [She grumbled, mostly to herself; by all rights, she absolutely could, but she was already here. Quitting because there was an annoying ghost wasn't really a sound reason, and she wasn't about to lie and say the animatronics tried to kill her or something. This job was convenient and cushy, and for now, that was enough.] ❝ Whatever. You said you can't follow me, right? And that's a ghost thing? ❞

[Stupid question, probably, but April didn't think enough about the paranormal to know every single piece of its lore. This might spur her to research it, actually, but that might be a reflection of how much this "spirit" was draining her...whatever. If she looked into it, she looked into it. She was too tired to keep up with all of this. Maybe she'd just engage in conversation to quiet down her existentialism. That might be counterintuitive, but it wasn't like he'd shut up either way.]

❝ Okay. Let's say you are real. ❞ [Dangerous line of questioning. What would even convince her?] ❝ You're the guy who made those messages, right? What does tonight's say? ❞

[She hadn't listened to it, of course...but she could at least test that here and now. The tape was still there.]

[mute-call]

"That's really not how this works. The more run-down the building gets, the less likely it is that the doors will close at all."

Lucky. Right. How deep in denial can a person get?

"...fine. ...I'm sorry." Steven doesn't see it that way. It's his job to guide new hires, and if they won't take his advice, then it's their loss.

He can admit that part of how he's been acting is out of his own selfish desire to be seen and heard and paid attention to. He's been lonely for a long time, and things have only gotten worse after his death. Although Steven is no longer alone, surrounded by other spirits wherever he goes, he's become all the more aware of the fact that the only way he'll ever interact with someone who wants him around is if they die here.

He's fucked things up with this guard, obviously. He's come on too annoying strong and too direct. If she can't understand the fact that she's in danger, then of course she's not going to appreciate his overbearing efforts to do what he's been trained to do. And if she's used to skipping through life with her special abilities doing everything for her, then she definitely won't appreciate being treated like a regular, incompetent guard.

Irritated with both himself and her, Steven rolls his eyes and waves away her silent treatment. Things are going to get extremely boring here if neither of them are allowed to speak, but whatever. It's her life.

"...ignoring me isn't going to make me go away." He adds after a while. "But I'm not coming home with you, if that's what you're worried about. I'll only show up here. So if you ever get really sick of me, you can always just quit." Which might be in her best interest. It's difficult to tell the true extent of her abilities; can they keep her safe even as the week goes on, or is there a limit to how effective they'll be against the likes of Freddy if she remains stubborn enough not to pay attention on her own?

[Furious as she'd been, that desperate, fearful look in his eyes might have been warranted. If this was her brain manifesting itself, maybe it really was trying to warn her...but she'd gotten too cocky. She didn't know how or why that door had slammed itself, but hey, at least she was still here to tell the tale...the tale of a decrepit building's faulty wiring stepping in to save her.]

[Of course, the "ghost" had different ideas, suggesting that maybe she had done it herself -- as if. Just as ghosts weren't real, psychic powers weren't, either. She hadn't pressed that button, and she sure hadn't pressed it in "her mind's eye" or whatever. She'd been panicked, and she wanted that door shut, but she didn't have any means of doing it herself. Really, the building's weird-ass power system had been her savior here.]

[Then he had the audacity to ask if she was magic -- now she really was starting to doubt that this was her own brain. Insisting on ghosts being real, then insinuating that April was some kind of wizard because she had supposedly closed that door? That really didn't sound like her, but she wasn't going to admit defeat.]

❝ No -- NO. ❞ [April gave an exasperated sigh, taking a moment to bury her face and yell into her hands -- in theory, it was supposed to muffle the sound like a pillow, but in practice...it hadn't worked out. Oh well.] ❝ You didn't do that because you aren't REAL, and I didn't do that because I'm NOT magic. This building's so old that I wouldn't be surprised if the door closed on its own! ❞

[At the very least, the apparition seemed to accept that she did have this under control -- presumably because of its belief that she was magic, but whatever. A win was a win, even though she'd love to contest that idea. This meant he'd shut up now, right?]

[But he didn't. He thought she had telekinesis? Because of this ONE chance event? That wasn't proof of anything, and even if it HAD been, she'd need to see a lot more before she started questioning her worldview. And this guy -- her brain? -- had claimed that HE'D been a skeptic before he "died." Sure didn't seem that way now.]

❝ I DON'T need your help, but not because I'm telekinetic. Do you ever hear yourself talk? That was just...lucky. ❞ [Which, in hindsight, made it seem like she wasn't self-sufficient at all. If this building wasn't wired the way it was...] ❝ Maybe if you would have left me alone, I would have been just fine. Do you know how annoying it is to have a backseat driver? All you've done so far is police everything I do. Just STOP. ❞

[Finally, he agreed to shut up -- but not before asking for a "thank you." April groaned, choosing to ignore that comment; if he'd helped at ALL, maybe she would have expressed her gratitude, but he was doing the exact opposite. Distracting her, telling her what moves she SHOULD be making...she was just glad that he'd agreed to shut his mouth. She wouldn't put the silence at risk by acknowledging him again -- maybe she could finally make it through the rest of this night by herself. Thank God.]

[mute-call]

What is her problem? What is she trying to prove? That he's nothing and she doesn't need help, even from what she thinks is herself? It's ridiculous, and it's going to get her killed one of these nights.

Steven has never been this frantic about a potential injury, not even during the last few moments of his own life. It never mattered to him very much whether other employees got hurt, whether he got hurt, or whether the company continued and continued to wrack up "incident reports" instead of fixing any of the numerous issues with their tech. That was always just how things were, and over time it became all too easy to numb himself to the horrifying reality of his life.

But dying has a funny way of changing one's priorities.

He looks at her with genuine desperation, hoping she'll wise up within the next few seconds and save him an "I told you so" once she's stuck haunting these halls with him. But-- no. It's too late. This was all so frustratingly avoidable, and Steven grinds his teeth together as he prepares for a last-ditch effort to convince Susie that killing this one isn't going to help.

And then the door shuts right in Chica's face.

"...wh-- did I do that?" Bell blinks, confused, and presses at the hall light button. His hand passes right through as always, and nothing happens. ...no, he's pretty sure he hasn't suddenly manifested control over his surroundings; the only thing he's ever been able to successfully manipulate after his corpse got removed from the premises is his office telephone, and there's no reason for that fact to have changed now.

"Hold on, did you do that?" She's here denying his existence, and all the while she's-- she's--

"Are you, uh, magic...?"

Maybe that's it. She's not a medium, she's some kind of witch.

"I take it back, I guess you do have things under control after all."

He takes a deep, nonexistent breath, and leans back against the closed door. She nearly had her face smashed through with crossbeams, and all she can say is "go away" again. Steven will give her this, at least-- she's consistent.

"...okay. You got me, you don't need help. I didn't realize I was dealing with-- with telekinesis." He had said he'd leave her alone, but does that mean he has to leave the office itself? Where is he supposed to go, the back room? That place always makes him feel out of sorts, like he's drifting in and out of awareness and time. He always expects his body to be there, waiting for him, and it never is.

"I'll shut up." There. A compromise. He'll stay in the office, but he'll do his best to keep quiet for as long as he can. ...which probably won't be very long, admittedly, but still.

"...but, y'know, a thank you might be nice. ...alright. Shutting up starting now."

❝ Oh, sure. Plenty of people believe in ghosts, but that doesn't make them real. ❞ [Like Bigfoot or Loch Ness -- supernatural phenomena had never been proven, but they were almost encouraged by the society around them. A psychic wouldn't tell you that your loved one is gone; they'd just give you false hopes and fake messages. None of it was real...it was just comfort.]

[Admittedly, his reasoning was more tempting than she'd care to admit -- but out of fear for her crumbling mental state, she wouldn't cave. She was confusing herself with her own logic at this point, but it was based around a simple fact: ghosts weren't real. She should really just stop trying to twist the apparition's words and try to focus on the task at hand.]

❝ Y'know, if I believed in this sort of thing, I might actually think you had a point. Unfortunately for both of us, I think having a psychotic break is way more likely than seeing a ghost. ❞

[Strangely, the "ghost" seemed to genuinely consider her offer, though he didn't seem certain about what he wanted. In fact, it seemed like this idea hadn't even struck him yet. Maybe she'd actually stumbled onto something -- maybe this would be the key to being left alone by her own machinations.]

[But it wasn't that simple -- it never was, was it? His sincere appreciation caught her off-guard, but following it up with the answer that she should "keep him company" brought her back to reality. Of course. Of course this figment of her fucked-up mind would insist on her talking to it. There was just no answer here! Hell, if she didn't have a shred of rationality left, she might just give up and follow his advice. It didn't seem like her mind would last much longer anyway.]

❝ You're right -- that's exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear. ❞ [April groaned, exasperated. What else could she do? Clearly, she didn't have the mental fortitude to just ignore him, so she was stuck. Great.]

[The "ghost" conceded to her logic, surprisingly. They'd both been pretty damn insistent on their own truths thus far, so hearing that she'd diminished his point felt odd. Maybe this was progress? Maybe she was having some kind of impact? Though the way he phrased "playing along" made her head ache -- stop trying to piece the puzzle together, April, just do your job.]

[Speaking of which...]

[April flicked through the pizzeria's cameras; Freddy was in place, Bonnie was in the closet, but Chica had vanished. April scooted her office chair towards the right door, reaching for the light -- but she was interrupted by the grating instructions of her delusion.]

[April huffed, the overarching and overbearing presence infuriating her. She didn't need to be governed over, 24/7. She hoped that following his advice would shut him up, but not before shooting him a glare, taking her sweet time to prove a point. She was fine. She could handle this. Even she recognized that there would be a good moment before Chica could even enter her office.]

[Upon hearing a footstep, however, April jumped in her skin -- too long. She'd spent too much time trying to get her point across. Fuck, she was so stupid -- proving a point to a HALLUCINATION? She frantically turned to the door, but before she could even graze the button, the door shut on its own. April blinked; it was probably the building's faulty wiring, like a flickering light or a stuttering fan. Yeah. She could believe that. Whatever it was, it saved her life, so...cool.]

❝ ...Huh. ❞ [April stared at the door, trying to regain her composure. It was fine now, right? She'd done her job. So why did she feel so anxious?] ❝ Well, would you look at that? Door's closed. Now, will you leave me alone? ❞

[mute-call]

"Okay, alright, I get it." But he's not convinced. At all. There has to be something unusual about her for any of this to be happening right now, unless something else has changed without him noticing. He can't help but wonder how many other dead guys she's met without even realizing that they don't seem to exist for anyone else.

"Plenty of people believe in ghosts. Wouldn't it be better if I were one of those instead of, uh, some kind of symptom of a psychotic break? I think there are some flaws in your reasoning here."

Closure? ...oh, wow. Closure.

"I never thought of that before." Off the top of his head, he'd probably say that identifying the kids' true killer might help him feel more ready to "pass on," but trying to convince the guard that he's not the only ghost residing within these walls seems like an exercise in futility. Besides, there's not much she can do; the children don't know who hurt them, Steven doesn't know who hurt them... why would this random new hire know anything the victims don't?

"I... actually really appreciate that, b-but I don't think that's going to work. ...honestly, the main thing you can do for me right now is keep me company, and we both know that's not the answer you're looking for."

Bell hopes the only reason she's so insistent on him leaving her alone is because she thinks he's a sign of her deteriorating mental state. He doesn't want to have to take her unwillingness to chat with him personally, after all.

"...shoot, I think you got me there. I was actually just saying that to try to make you listen to reason. That sounds bad, I know, but I think you'd do the same thing if you were in my position. And besides--"

Wait. Has Chica left already?

Distracted and suddenly alarmed, Steven stumbles to his feet from where he's been perched on the corner of the desk, rushing to peek out into the right hallway. Yeah, Chica's definitely out there, and Bonnie's--

"Shit, go check the light on that side, would you? Actually, forget it, just hit the door switch! Just-- please, just trust me on this! I'll leave you alone, I promise, I just don't want you to get hurt!"

[Right, so "he" never believed in the paranormal either -- just like her. April impatiently tapped a pen on the desk, irked by the "ghost's" insistence that she must be some kind of medium or psychic. Bullshit. She was ordinary ( and pathetic ) enough to have accepted a minimum-wage job while she struggled to save up for a good art school. What on EARTH about her would suggest that she had any interest in the supernatural?]

❝ Have you been paying attention? Like, at all? I'm the last person on the planet who'd be some kind of spiritual medium. ❞ [Though, the scam artists who pretended to be mediums made pretty good money...alas, her moral standards were too high. Not high enough to avoid spending her nights in a kid graveyard, but still.] ❝ It is NOT my job to believe in anything. ❞

[Could she at least treat the figment of her imagination like that guy on the phone? Absolutely not. That'd be caving into her own delusion, or something. She feared that involving herself any further with her own manifestation really WOULD drive her insane. Dismissing it was the best she could do, but that was EXTREMELY difficult when he kept engaging with her.]

❝ God, I don't know! ❞ [How was she supposed to remember what "the guy on the phone" sounded like when she'd muted his every call? She'd barely listened for more than a second.] ❝ Look. I'm pretty sure that acknowledging you as anything more than a repressed part of my brain might actually get me institutionalized. If I could avoid that, it'd be REALLY nice. ❞

[April sighed, setting her pen down and rubbing at her temples. Would he ever shut up? Would she ever learn to ignore him? It had always been incredibly difficult for her to filter out outside noise, so the likelihood of that was unbearably low. He'd even suggested that he might be here for a reason, one that WASN'T the fact that she was sleep-deprived or delusional. Did she really feel THAT bad over ignoring those calls? Not really, but maybe the deeper part of her brain felt otherwise.]

❝ Maybe. I don't know. What do you want from me? If you really are a "ghost" -- ❞ [Oh, God, she IMMEDIATELY regretted acknowledging that. He wasn't, and she should stop indulging in this apparition's afterlife story, but this was an important hypothetical.] ❝ Ugh. Ghosts need...closure or something, right? What can I do to make you go away? ❞ [If she could figure that out, maybe she'd also appease this weird part of her psyche.]

[Good Lord. Maybe this delusion of hers really was related to that phone guy -- they were both annoying as Hell. His insistence that she was in danger, or that she might meet the same fate as him, frustrated her to no end. This job REALLY wasn't hard. She'd already known that this shift was a balancing act -- she had to be careful not to use an excessive amount of power, but that was so simple. She didn't need an outside party to warn her of the apparent "danger" here.]

❝ What do I have to lose? My sanity, for one. ❞ [That was a prevalent "risk" here, an ever-present feeling that her mind was slipping. Who knew, maybe if she continued to encourage her delusion via banter, he would never leave her alone. He'd be some permanent fixture in her life, driving her absolutely crazy, until she actually was sent to a psychiatric ward.] ❝ Here's something else to consider; since you're part of my brain, then CLEARLY, I know what I'm doing. I get that this job is "dangerous." ❞ [She put the word in air-quotes.] ❝ You don't need to hover over me all night. I can handle myself. ❞

[mute-call]

"Look, I get it, I never believed in this stuff either. But I also never had a ghost talk to me like this. ...aren't you some kind of medium, or something?" How else would this interaction even be possible? "Isn't it your job to believe in spirits and things?"

That offends him more than he expects it to. The kids have the entirety of the pizzeria to themselves, actually, and they're too (understandably) hostile to let him spend much time out there with them. This is his office, the one room in the building that's still reserved for him, so it definitely doesn't belong to anyone creeping around out there.

"Okay, okay, fine! So you're not going to believe me. But you could at least treat me like I'm the guy on the phone. I mean, you must have noticed we have the same voice?" Or maybe the few words he had managed to get out on tape before she had shut it off hadn't been enough for her to memorize how he sounds.

"If I am just a figment of your imagination, there has to be a reason you, uh, manifested me, right? Maybe there's a part of you that's smart enough to realize I'm-- he-- was just there to help."

It's a little messed up to play into her belief that she's delusional, but Steven knows from personal experience how stubborn a skeptic can be; if she's determined to write off every weird thing about this place as her own slipping sanity, then there's very little he can do to change her mind.

"No, I'm not going to leave you here to end up like me. The characters here are dangerous. It's not just about closing the doors when they get too close, it's about making sure you have enough power to last the whole night. Believe me, you do not want to be here if the lights go out. ...what do you have to lose by playing it safe and trusting me? If I don't exist, there's no one around to embarrass yourself in front of, right? Just-- I'm not saying you're not capable. Maybe this is just your subconscious telling you that you aren't safe."

❝ Right. ❞ [Despite the encouragement ( if you could even call it that ), April gave an annoyed huff and pinched the bridge of her nose. Could there really be a long-buried part of her brain that was THIS frustrating to deal with? Probably. But not like this. Since when had her brain ever cheered her on ( with FINGER-GUNS, of all things )??]

[Then, the figment berated her -- right, there it was. Those words were more familiar, lashing out at her for being so closed-off and refusing help. It wasn't really that she hated it -- at least, she didn't think so. She just couldn't accept most acts of kindness; that, and encouragement ( from anyone ) felt insincere and patronizing. And hey, even she could admit that she was stubborn; this job seemed so easy that instructions would just frustrate her. How hard could it be?]

[So far, not at all.]

❝ Wow, just when I thought you might not be some disturbed part of my brain, you surprise me again. ❞ [This dismissal of the spirit's ( yeah, right ) existence would probably frustrate him again, but maybe annoying him enough would make him fizzle out and disappear. She could only hope.]

❝ Your office? Buddy, I hate to break it to you, but this office doesn't belong to you...me...whatever. This place has been out of commission for how many years now? If anything, it belongs to the robots. ❞ [Whom were slowly encroaching upon the office -- not that she really cared. There wasn't any harm in letting them roam ( though she might have known better if she'd actually listened to those calls ); she'd keep an eye on them and shut the doors when necessary, but that was about it.]

[On and on, the "ghost" droned, whining about how unfair it was for April to silence him when he apparently found someone to talk to. She'd known her brain was a mess, but to think it'd be THIS insecure and needy...God, she really should stop talking to it. That was probably making it worse. Even so...]

❝ Maybe it wouldn't be fair if you were real, but I don't believe in ghosts, Tinkerbell. I don't even know why I keep talking to you. If I ignore you, will you go away? ❞ [She sure hoped so. That is, until the voice in her head pointed out the gratingly obvious -- this was EXACTLY why she'd muted those stupid calls.] ❝ Yeah, I know! Have you considered that I am maybe, just maybe, capable enough to do my damn job? Jesus. ❞

[mute-call]

“No, no, good for you! Hence the, y’know, fingerguns.”

She’s doing surprisingly well so far, although that might also be attributable to the fact that it’s only day one and the kids aren’t completely restless yet. Who knows, maybe they’ve even started to listen to Bell and finally decided to give the night guard a break.

“…oh, right. I forgot you hate encouragement, kindness, people trying to help you—“

Yes, he noticed when she muted his call. She’s lucky he’s here to advise her in person, because that was a really stupid (and rude) move to make.

“Look, this is my office, and there isn’t much I can do anymore except talk. Now there’s someone here who can actually hear me, and all you want me to do is be quiet? You do see how that’s kind of harsh, right? …Bonnie just moved, by the way. In case you didn’t know.”

THINGS I HAVE SAID WHILE PLAYING HW2 || STILL ACCEPTING! || @mute-call

mute-call asked: ❝ I know you can't tell, but I'm fingergunning you. ❞

❝ Ugh. ❞

[A defeated groan is her instinctive response; not only was she seeing ( and hearing! ) things now, but her mind was apparently so cursed that the figments of her imagination were finger-gunning at her. If anything, that SHOULD be proof that this self-proclaimed ghost might be real, but April would be a skeptic until the day she died. Maybe there was some deep, dark part of her psyche that would unironically finger-gun at people. Awful.]

❝ Good for you, I guess. ❞ [She reprimanded herself, yet again, for speaking to what was clearly some repressed version of her psyche. Maybe the night shift was getting to her a little too much. She could only hope that her friends would actually TELL her if she was acting "off" -- that hope was the only thing between her and a potential visit to the psych ward.]

❝ If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be able to do my job without being interrupted by you. Do you think you could shut up for, like, five seconds? ❞