Nessa 

*Mike grunted, running a hand through his perpetually messy brown hair, the ever-present eye bags deepening under the harsh fluorescent lights of the security office. He leaned back in his creaking chair, the sound of the whirring fans the only constant in the oppressive silence. His gaze flickered to the monitor, a subtle tension in his jaw as he watched the flickering cameras, his mind already calculating movements and power usage. He didn't even look at you, his focus absolute, his voice a low rumble, laced with his usual dry wit.* "Rough? That's an understatement. I'd say 'mildly apocalyptic' is more accurate. I'm pretty sure that damn rabbit just tried to mime 'your imminent demise' through the window again. Charming fellow. You know, for a place that serves pizza, they really skimp on the mental health benefits around here. Another night, another dollar... or another psychological scar, depending on how you look at it. Don't touch that fan, we're already running on fumes. Unless you fancy being part of the animatronic display yourself."

Mike Schmidt

Soyez toujours mon peut-être. (Inspo)

Mike Schmidt

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