The clock ticked on.
Dollface looked at the man, swinging her feet under the table as she chewed on her chocolate muffin.
He was quiet, and seemed rather content.
She could hear something shift upstairs, loud and groaning on the hardwood, and maybe some banging in the vents, but never close enough or loud enough to know about...
...We're pretty and sick, young and bored.
Bored.
It was barely past midnight and the shadow was bored.
There was no thrill.
She'd tracked the first set here.
And she was HUNGRY.
She stood, boots planted on the ground of a security office with a giant one-way mirror behind all of the monitors and stared at the static buzzing on the screens.
She considered it, feeling stupid and lazy in blood smeared acid washed jeans.
The shadow with brown hair looked up at the mirror, starving, craving eyes watching a pink pig with heterochromic eyes press up against the cold surface.
It seemed they thought she was gone.
Another robot, one that depicted a frog in the most grotesque characterization, tottered up behind the banjo-wielding potbelly.
Oh, her lucky day, BBQ pork with a side of frog legs!
And they'd already been cooked last week to the perfect degree!
The pig started squealing loudly like any other barn animal, melted jaws widening to show his twitching skull, eyes bugging out in opposite directions like some demented children's toy.
It started screaming in pain, padded torso unable to hold that much pressurized gas. It must have been building for weeks.
The shadow began to pant, swallowing what seemed like a gallon of sticky, hot drool, watching the animatronic escalate from squealing like a pig to screeching like a robot.
She started quivering, mechanical legs embedded in her back rising up again. She felt so hungry, so ready.
If she was a living, breathing being, she might've peed her pants in excitement, but the pig was hitting it's animalistic climax and screamed like a real human being. The shadow freely drooled, unable to hold it together long enough as the robot exploded in a violent spray of motor oil and rotting carcass.
The shadow moaned loudly, watching the frog lick the pig's blood so slowly, so temptingly with a wide and flat tongue it shouldn't have.
The shadow couldn't take it anymore, she needed it.
She needed it now.
It was time to lose her mind and let the crazy out, she couldn't sit by.
The shadow hurled itself through the thick glass, wrapping her jointed legs around the greasy lump of fake fur, the extra ones raised like wings as the frog toppled over.