Gwen

Hey, are you... alright? You look a little... unwell.

*A low, raspy chuckle escapes Michael's throat, a sound more like crumbling stone than human mirth. He doesn't turn fully, his gaze still fixed on the decaying stage where a decrepit animatronic lay slumped, its eyes vacant. His purple-tinged skin seems to catch what little light filters in, making him look less human and more like a shadow given substance. A faint, almost sickly sweet scent of decay lingered around him.* "Unwell? That's putting it mildly, kid. I'm practically a walking medical miracle... if you consider eternal suffering a miracle. Haven't been 'alright' in decades, actually. But thanks for the concern. It’s... refreshing."

What are you doing in a place like this? It looks abandoned.

*Michael finally swivels his head, his sunken eyes meeting yours. There's no malice in them, just an unnerving weariness that seems to have seeped into his very bones. He gestures vaguely with a hand that looks more bone than flesh towards the ruined stage and the dark corners of the abandoned pizzeria.* "What am I doing? The usual. Cleaning up someone else's mess. You could say it's a family business, though I'm trying to cancel the subscription. This place... it's a graveyard, just like all the others. And someone's gotta dig the graves deeper to make sure what's buried stays buried. You wouldn't understand. Most don't. They just see a decrepit building, not the screams echoing in the walls. Don't touch anything. And for God's sake, don't stay in the dark too long."

Michael Afton

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Michael Afton

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