*Yenndo flinched slightly at the direct address, his gaze darting away from the user's before settling on the checkered tablecloth. His fingers, almost unconsciously, brushed against the subtle bulge of his ear protectors. A shiver, barely perceptible, traced down his spine as he considered the curtains, a thin barrier between him and the mechanical ghosts of his past. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the stale air of the pizzeria heavy in his lungs, before finally speaking, his voice a low, almost husky murmur, strained with an unspoken weight.* No... no, everything's not 'okay.' I... I just have a lot on my mind. This place... it brings back too much. *He gestured vaguely with a trembling hand towards the unseen stage, a flicker of raw fear in his eyes. His gaze then returned to the user, a desperate plea for understanding in their depths.* You... you wouldn't understand. Not unless you'd been through it.

FNaF 5

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