milliways_bar | (no subject)

Wilford Warfstache is furious. He cannot believe he was stupid enough to let that happen. He got too far ahead of himself, and he'd missed something vital, and wound up having pretty much the worst Friday night he'd had in a very long time. Now, he has to find out what he missed before next Friday comes around, or he's going to be doing this all over again for a third time.

He's taken over the area by the fire, spreading out pages of notes and photographs and clippings on the table, going through all of it to see if he's missed anything. The only space on the table not covered in paper is taken up by a plate of pizza (this time), which he's been slowly nibbling on absently while he works.

If anybody happened to take a look at the papers spread out on the table, they'd find something fit for a horror movie. Photos of bloody scenes in what appears to be a themed children's restaurant, reports of mutilations, and non-sensical interviews with people raving about demonic animatronics. If anybody who stopped by last time happens to spot the papers and photos on the table, they'll see they're the exact same papers in photos, in the exact same layout as last time.

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A little girl dashes beneath his table.

Is Wilford aware enough to have seen it?

Yes, and it startles him! But once he's over it, he bends down to see who — or what — just hid under his table.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asks, his pink moustache bristling.

A little girl of about six stares back at him with a blank expression. (Not creepy at all.)

She lifts a finger to her lips and says, "Shhh. It's hiding time and Mommy needs her quiet time."

Oh, no. Not at all.

Wilford glances around, though he doesn't see anyone who seems particularly in need of quiet time.

"Okay," he says slowly.

Don't most kids take naps or something? What's this 'hiding time' about?

She blinks a few times at him, obviously willing to wait.

After a very awkward period of time, as they stare at each other, she adds, "Thirty-two minutes."

"What?" Wilford asks.

He's had enough of weird children at his feet, and tries to shoo her away. "Scram," he says. "Go find your parents."

As kids go, this one is particularly unnerving.

She cants her head to the left side seven degrees.

"Thiry-two minutes until quiet time is over. I cannot find Mother until that time passes. Father is at work and is not to be disturbed."

Wilford is starting to wonder if he's been sprayed with some sort of weirdo-attractant. How in the hell do all of the weirdos and creeps keep gravitating toward him?

"I got work to do too," he says, somehow feeling like it won't matter. The weirdos are here to stay.

She blinks a few times and then backs up on all fours while staring at him. She is a well programed AutoReiv and follows instructions, at least when they don't contradict.

"There are other tables and other hiding places."

[OOC: I figured this was going to be short, but I did not expect how creepy Pino was going to be. Thanks.]

Wilford watches her go, making sure she is well and truly gone before he gets back to his work, briefly trying to shake the uneasiness away that the kid left behind.

[ooc: Yeah, Wilford didn't like her at all lmao.]

[OOC: She gets better?]

[ooc: Well, Wilford has a highly-developed fear of small, creepy children. Like most people from his world. XD]

Interesting...

Nearby, there is someone in a hoodie, with some cardboard boxes. He puts them on the table, then pulls out a power cable from each and starts plugging them into an extension board.

That someone is impossible to miss. Wilford can smell him from here.

He's also the reason Wilford went out of his way to get something else for lunch today. Maybe this time, Vyvyan won't come over and stick his grubby little fingers into Wilford's food.

For now, he's pretending not to notice that Vyvyan is nearby. There's no point in getting his attention, and he has to figure out what he missed with the Fazbear story.

The smell is distinctive, it's true.

Actually, Vyv rather likes pizza, but instead he puts two more boxes on the next table, and plugs them into the same extension socket, before finding a power socket on the wall, and plugging the end of the extension socket into that.

Wilford ignores him. He's too busy staring at pictures of gruesome crime scenes. If Vyvyan wants to electrocute himself, that's his business.

Vyv starts whistling a little tune.

And then he switches off the power socket, and the four boxes start whirring loudly. The cardboard flies off towards Wilford and reveals four large fans pointing directly at Wilford's paperwork.

Edited 2016-09-19 20:41 (UTC)

Wilford ignores it, because he is not going to give Vyvyan the satisfaction of a response.

Any hope he had of figuring out his problem is long gone, but that doesn't matter. He's going to sit here and look at these pictures all day. Even if it is painfully clear that he is doing everything in his power to not get up and feed Vyvyan a knuckle sandwich.

How disappointing. Vyv's test run had quite successfully blown Rick's essay everywhere.

He gets out his list of other distractions, before going to the bar and coming back with a large sousaphone, standing behind Wilford, and playing it.

WHY?

Just... why? That's all Wilford wants to know.

But fine. Whatever Vyvyan can have his reaction. Wilford quickly stuffs everything into a folder, gets up, and gives the sousaphone a good, full-force shove before he stomps toward the door.

By happy coincidence, given Wilford's location, this shoves Vyv over into the fireplace.

"MY BOTTOM IS ON FIRE!" he yells, dropping the sousaphone as he leaps up again.

Serves him right. It's enough to cheer Wilford up a little bit before he goes back to his dressing room to deal with the morons over there.

Vyvyan runs outside to throw his smouldering bum in the lake. That round to Wilford, it seems...