Another night indeed, and that means another night of her zipping between two tablets and evading threats, pushing down panic or worry in favour of doing her task– survive and save a few souls ( very faint promises and a request to do so fuel the fire, flames rising ), sneakers kick off at the floor as she slid her chair to and fro between the tablets embedded in place ( she makes a mental note to perhaps talk to someone about, oh, she doesn’t know, removing them so she could carry them? It would be more effective ), the axe remains loosely attached to her chair as she spins between the devices ( she’s surprised that she isn’t dizzy– then again, she was someone who loved thrills and scares, running off of the adrenaline given and going wild was… her thing ), she was primarily just running on the urge to live to fight another day, after all.
For now, though, after a quick check of the maintenance panel ( she sort of hated the thing, the ventilation going haywire is dreadful and the last thing she needed was to suffocate in the office, her safeplace ), nothing seemed to be going off currently, which was good– but she didn’t know how long she had until something does ( it could be worse, they could all go off at the same time and it’ll take longer to fix them– and leave her more vulnerable to the phantoms– or the one thing that could kill her in the building ), the girl has moved her chair once more, a simple spin to the chair towards the cameras, she had flipped the tablet up to look at the current camera she had seen him on last– and jumped a mile she she only catches a glimpse of him running as the visual shuts off.
She cursed under her breath, already looking and reaching for the panel as she switches on and sets to resetting the system, she had turned a bit paler than usual, and she’s somewhat aware of the eyes behind the window, her own dark blue eyes occasionally flicking up and watching him as she sat there, waiting for the moment she could turn off the panel and maybe try to direct his attention elsewhere– small hands had wrapped around the device in a quiet attempt to remain calm– despite the rising anxiety prickling at the back of her neck and the dread at the pit of her stomach, despite her earlier internal comment of thrills and adrenaline being her thing– she knew this place was frowned upon, but she wouldn’t have gotten a job here if it was just a horror attraction based on dead children– she was here for something more– to confirm if said kids were indeed here, and to try and help them ( undo the damage, save their souls, burn the place to cinders.. she thinks ).
Nova sees him move just as the camera system reboots, a hand shutting the panel down as she bit her lip ( she bites down on it hard– an impulse, but it doesn’t hurt ), she wasn’t liking how close he was to getting inside– how close she was to death ( she thinks so, anyways ), she freezes up slightly, a hand kind of near her axe in case he makes a move for her, she frowned, thoughts running miles a minute in her head ( her life may be low-key flashing before her eyes right now ), she kept quiet, as though she was waiting, a foot slowly moves to place itself against the floor so she can push herself for the camera tablet– for the audio lure. She slowly grows a bit bolder, leaning forward slightly as her expression shifts– eyebrows furrowing and mouth pressing into a thin line– but then the static hits her, and she jumped, eyes widening before it goes– only snapping wider when she hears him speak– she really wasn’t expecting that in the slightest.
She has paused, though her expression doesn’t shift, there was curiosity, her eyes shift towards the camera tablet once– and only once– before flicking back to him, she makes no attempt to move for it ( despite still considering if she should do something ), it was… odd, to hear him talk for once, most nights she’d only hear ear-bleeding static and groans, which… weren’t fun at all, she leans back, slightly wary of him ( not to mention the accent– one she could sort of recognise– makes her slightly conscious of her own ).
The teen blinks when he speaks once more, internally cursing her empathy for a moment for wanting to go through with this– if she dies, she dies, yolo, as the cool kids say, A hand goes to lean on the maintenance panel as she sat there, a little worried for a moment, ❝ Um– uh, okay.. ❞ She managed a tad weakly, still a bit in shock, ❝ Who’re– who.. are you? ❞ She questioned, he had to have a name, after all– at least, he sounded human enough ( which reminds her– there was a corpse in that thing, wasn’t there?? Christ.. ), she still remained wary, a hand still placed near her axe if she needed it, though she has the feeling she might not.
☆ 🍿 ☆ Springtrap... admittedly, hadn’t expected her to actually listen. She seems curious, but still wary, not making any moves for the ‘audio’ button over there, rather her axe. He steps a little more into view, but doesn’t exactly come into the office all the way -- keeping his distance, trying his best to show that he’s not a threat. He didn’t think he’d get this far, so he freezes up, unsure where to go with this. A difference the fright guard might notice is he now has a hoodie of all things pulled over hastily over the suit, barely fitting him and covering most of the corpse within.
Who is he? His head tilts to the side. He... doesn’t really know. He seems to mull over this for a moment, which is probably worrying. Who forgets their own name? To be honest, he’s concerned as well. Has it really been so long he’s forgotten the name he chose? It has to be in there somewhere. On the bright side, at least he also doesn’t remember the name in which is dead. Good.
“I... uhm... you... must know me as ‘Springtrap’, and while that is a badass name, it’s... not really who I am. My name is...” He starts, twitching oddly as he fidgets his hands, looking at the ground. He searches his memories for both of their answers, pacing somewhat in place. Something... something starting with an M, he thinks. He briefly thinks about the name Matthew, but that doesn’t --
“Michael!” He blurts out suddenly, throwing his arms up in the air, looking like he just had an epiphany, eyes wide. He falters self-consciously, slouching a little and grabbing his other ‘wrist’ with a tattered yellow-green hand.
“Sorry. It’s Mike.” He goes silent for a beat. It seems like he doesn’t quite know how to interact with other people, at least, not anymore. Which is true; he had been locked away for quite a while.
“I... hope I haven’t scared you too much. I promise that I don’t intend to harm you.” Michael sounds genuinely guilty. His ears pin back against his head. Briefly his silver eyes shift to gaze at her axe, then remove themselves from it.
...Right. Usually you’d ask for the other person’s name right about now, he recalls, standing straighter.
“What’s -- who are you?” That works, he guesses. “...wait, what in the blue blazes are you doing here, anyway?” He sounds genuinely concerned.
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