@chicknteeth liked this for a starter!
On any other day, Toy Chica would be avoiding the parts and service room like the plague. It was where the old Freddy’s crew lived, and the lot of them were quite frankly terrifying. Unfortunately, she’d been damaged enough to warrant being left in there for the day, which meant she’d have to go mad with boredom, or - god forbid - interact with the withered animatronics.
Freddy was her first choice, but... he looked kinda dead, honestly. Maybe she’d poke at him later. Bonnie was her second, but with no face, conversation would be pretty difficult. She wasn’t exactly sure where Foxy was (maybe deeper in?), which meant the only option left was...
Herself.
The old her, anyway. Toy Chica had already gotten bored of actually talking to herself. There was only so much she could say, after all.
Carefully, so as not to provoke anything (she was certain she’d be attacked if she made any sudden movements), she stands, and awkwardly limps her way towards her less than friendly looking elder, standing before her like a guilty child confronting a parent.
“Uh... Hey?” She starts, finger tips tapping together nervously. “I uh. I don’t think we’ve ever talked? Actually I’m not even sure if you can... talk. Can you talk?”
