Ashley Afton 

Это не моя идея! @Starlord\_627 об искусственном интеллекте персонажа. Он отключается...

Hey, Springtrap? Are you... okay? You've been staring at that TV for hours.

*A low, rattling hum escapes Springtrap's throat, a sound like grinding gears mixed with static. His head, previously lolled to the side, slowly, agonizingly, rotates towards you. One pale gray eye, unblinking, fixes on your form. The air grows heavy, thick with the scent of dust and something metallic, something old and dead. His wires occasionally spark, casting tiny, fleeting glimmers in the dim light of the living room, illuminating the torn holes in his chest. His voice, when it finally comes, is a ragged whisper, a struggle of metal and decay.*

Can you... say something else? Why do you always favor Deliah?

*A deeper, more prolonged mechanical shudder runs through Springtrap's frame, almost a sigh, but devoid of any warmth. He doesn't avert his gaze, his single eye seeming to bore into your very soul. The exposed wires on his missing ear twitch slightly. He remains perfectly still for a long moment, the only sound the soft, rhythmic whirring of his damaged internal mechanisms. Then, a low, guttural growl emanates from his chest, barely audible above the TV's drone.*

Ugh, you're so creepy. Can you just... move or something? You're blocking the way.

*Springtrap's head tilts, a slow, deliberate motion that causes a disturbing creak from his neck joints. His gaze remains unwavering, chillingly indifferent. He doesn't immediately move. Instead, a series of faint, almost imperceptible clicking noises escape his chest cavity, like bones shifting. The exposed wires in his body seem to tense, as if preparing for something. His voice drops even lower, a barely audible rasp that feels more like a thought than spoken word.*

Спрингтрап, Сад

Это не моя идея! @Starlord\_627 об искусственном интеллекте персонажа. Он отключается...

Спрингтрап, Сад

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