Foxy lay cuddled in the nook of Mike's arm, shifting her weight as she rested her head on his shoulder. It had taken her a moment to find a comfortable position in the beginning. Not only did she stand a whole head taller than Mike normally, she had also not so much as hugged anybody before he came into the picture. Thankfully, with just the right placement of her hips she found that their bodies fit quite nicely together. She overheard Mike talking on the phone again—he had at some point realized his parents should also know about their whereabouts—but she didn't care to comprehend the words for the moment. It didn't matter in the slightest. All she cared about for the time being was that she finally got to be held by the man she most desired.

Was this love? That tantalizing addiction she had read about in all her books? Sought after to an almost overwhelming degree by humanity, yet still treated as some fleeting, rare feeling that only happens a couple times at most. Foxy didn't know for sure. She had never been close enough to anybody to really understand it before.

Sure, she loved boxing. It was practically the sole reason she was brought into this world, after all. Boxing had been her lifeblood for many, many years. Feeling that adrenaline course through her veins like wildfire with each strike to her opponent. The static in the air from the crowd's cheering making her fur stick up on end. Narrowly avoiding knockout punches with an ease that was second nature—there was nothing like it in the world. It had all been taken from her over thirty years ago now.

Thirty years. This connection with Mike was the first time she had really felt alive since then. The closest she had ever come to having friends were the other animatronics back in the old days, and that was a sad comparison at best. At some point between then and now she started wondering if she even wanted any friends. Psh, who needs 'em, you know? She had gone all her life thus far without them, could they really be that good? All she needed were her books.

While Foxy's initial relationship with Mike was that of a trainer and student, things had steadily progressed from there. Admittedly, she could see how some of it could have been chalked up to some desperation for connection after years of isolation. She was aware of that, and had been for a while now. It was a natural reaction, after all. However as each training session afforded them more time together, Foxy found that she genuinely enjoyed being in his company. More and more he would stay late after workouts to watch old boxing matches or simply chat.

Somehow, he made her feel like a person. Not just some mechanical fox created to beat the snot out of other anthropomorphic freaks-of-nature. Neither did he treat her as just some freak with a hook for a hand, but an individual with wishes and dreams. Mike related to her loneliness, overcoming his anxieties to help Foxy embrace her own many insecurities.

Foxy had even brought him into her territory; something she would have scoffed at the mere mention of in the past.

Never before had she so badly wanted to see someone else succeed. Once they got out of this car and were able to start training again, Foxy made herself and Mike a promise that she would do everything in her power to help him win that next fight. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. One way or another, Mike was gonna knock the smirk off that flirtatious, good for nothing whor-

"-hello? Earth to Foxy?"

Said vixen blinked at the mention of her name, brought back to reality where she noticed Mike staring at her.

"Hm?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just...a little lost in thought," Foxy replied. She paused for a second, reorienting herself in the current situation. "What'd your parents say, slugger?"

"They said they'd be here in twenty minutes."

Foxy stared at him. "You're shitting me, right?" She blew a stray hair out of her face, then continued before Mike could answer. "Right. There's no damn way they can make it here that fast."

A lopsided grin flashed across Mike's face before he shrugged and tossed his phone back onto the front seat, where it landed in a pile of his clothes. He looked back at her, playfulness in his gray eyes. "You wanna bet?"

"Slugger, I know you're bullshitting. Come on, how could they possibly get here before the towing company? They can't! Don't those people have like"—she motioned with her hand and hook for effect—"BIG vehicles to get through weather like this?"

Even at such intimate proximity, Foxy couldn't tell if she was reading Mike's face correctly. The heated blanket shifted, and Foxy's fur brushed against Mike's bare skin as she turned slightly to better face him. Not even an inch of space existed between their two forms. The motion must have made Mike more aware of this situation though, as his face suddenly flushed and he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Believe it or not, my parents have an even bigger truck for similar reasons," said Mike. His smile looked forced. "Plus I imagine there's more of an urgency to pick up your child and his friend, rather than just some customers."

Foxy opened her maw to speak, then stopped. A particular word in Mike's last response had just dawned on her. Friend. Was that all they were? It seemed like such a strange question to ask when they were both naked and covered in each other's sweat, but she still couldn't help her curiosity.

"Michael."

"Foxy, I'm serious—"

"What are we?"

Mike's words caught in his mouth, and Foxy could feel his heart rate skyrocket. "W-what do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes and insisted, "I mean—what are we, Michael? Ya' know...after that."

"We basically spilled our hearts out to each other already," said Mike. He scratched the back of his neck. "I meant everything I said about you. About us, I mean. You've made this all worth it."

Foxy's cheeks burned at that. "And I meant what I said, too, slugger."

"Right."

"I just...don't want this to be a one time thing."

That lopsided grin returned for a moment as Mike said, "That's good, considering I'm not much a fan of one-night stands."

"Oh, and what—I am?"

Foxy felt Mike let out a huff. "We've already gone on a date or two as well, now that I think about it."

"Two?" asked Foxy, cocking her head in confusion. "Bowling and..."

"And when you ate dinner with my family?"

"That doesn't count, come on!"

"Why not?"

Foxy jabbed a finger at him accusingly. "You weren't even the one that wanted to invite me in the first place!"

"Okay fine, I'll give you that," Mike conceded, earning himself a surprised squeak from Foxy as he wrapped his arms around her. He gave her a gentle squeeze. "But you did meet my parents though. That's something, right?"

With a snort, Foxy nuzzled into him. "Whatever..."

They let a silence fill the car then as they sat, content with each other's presence. The heated blanket enveloping the two had lost its luster as time went on, its once glorious warmth having grown dull as Foxy got used to it. Still, she couldn't help clutching it closer when a draft of cool air penetrated their little bubble. Judging by the temperature in the car she could only assume that the conditions outside weren't improving. Not that she could tell by looking through the windows though, as a sheet of white had almost completely encased the vehicle's exterior.

A howling wind shook the car then, scouring its surface for even a sliver of an opening or gap in the metal. Minutes must have passed before Foxy spoke again. "So, we're dating then?" she ventured.

"As long as it doesn't get in the way of training," replied Mike in a forced monotone, his head reclined back to rest against the window.

It was Foxy's turn to surprise Mike as she cocked her head and planted a kiss on his cheek. Even in the dark, she could see his face turn a light pink color. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Despite just how comfortable she was in their current position, Foxy felt a familiar sense of insecurity start creeping up in her. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what had brought it out, if anything—or if it had simply popped up as an unfortunate force of habit. To her credit, Foxy ignored it the best she could for the next few moments. At some point however she realized she was staring down at her hook yet again. Couldn't get too content now, could she?

"Does it bother you that I'm an animatronic?" Foxy blurted out, not taking her eyes off the curved, metal appendage. "Don't get me wrong, you've made me feel a lot better about myself over the last month. I just know you had some...well, reservations about touching me when we first met."

"Foxy," Mike began, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I can't say sorry enough about that. I tried to not ever be obvious with that."

"I know."

"I'll admit that earlier on there were moments when I felt a bit, er, awkward around you."

Mike delicately wrapped his fingers around her hook, pulling it toward his chest where he held it close. His other hand brushed against the fur on her side.

"It was only because I had never actually met somebody like you before," he murmured. "I wasn't used to close contact with anyone, really. Let alone a kick-ass mechanical fox."

That last part got a small smile to curl Foxy's lips, though it faded as quickly as it appeared. "Still, there's some stigma around humans and animatronics being together. Things were improving even back when I was still fighting, but I know there are still issues. Does that...bother you, at all?"

"What other people think? Fuck no. Never has."

"But is there anything about me that's still strange to you? Ya' know...anatomy-wise?"

"Not really," said Mike, giving her a once-over. "I mean, you're covered in fur of course, but it actually feels pretty nice to touch."

Foxy rolled her eyes at that but couldn't help giggle. "Yeah?"

"Besides, you seem to have all the same"—he paused, struggling with the word for a moment—"the same parts, I guess. There's nothing about you that's off-putting to me, you're just unique and I like that."

"Even if I'm not human?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

A content hum left Foxy's throat. "Just hope your family's okay with this."

"They already like you!"

"There's a difference between liking me as a unique friend, and accepting me as your girlfriend, slugger. Can you blame me for being a little anxious?"

"My parents know you make me happy, Foxy," said Mike, sleepily resting on the window again. "That should be enough for them."

Foxy let out a shaky laugh and admitted, "I hope so."

Before Foxy could relax again however, her ears twitched; an elevated sense of hearing allowed her to pick out the distant roar of an engine.

Apparently noticing her distress, Mike pulled himself back up and raised a brow at her. "Something wrong?"

"I hear a car comin'."

"Does it sound...big?" Mike asked awkwardly, not sure how else to phrase the question. "Could be the towing company already."

"Dunno, can't really tell," she replied. Instinctively, she tilted her head to try and hear better, though it likely didn't make a difference.

By the time the sound drew near enough for both of them to distinguish it, fractions of light had begun peeking through thin lines on the windshield where snow hadn't yet completely covered its surface. As both the sound and light grew more intense, Foxy leaned back to let Mike more freely peer through the window. She watched as he narrowed his eyes, struggling to get a good view of the incoming vehicle. Mike grimaced.

"Sounds like it could be a tow truck, but..." Mike trailed off, not moving his gaze.

"But...?"

"There's usually flashing lights on top, sort of like an ambulance or something."

"Pft, what, so you're thinking it's your parents instead?"

Foxy had said it jokingly. Based on the look written on Mike's face however, she could tell that he was actually implying just that. She snorted in disbelief. For a moment, they both sat and listened as the truck steadily pulled to a stop beside them with a soft crunching of snow beneath tires. Right as she opened her maw to rebuke him though, the low bellowing of a car honking its horn blared not once—not twice—but multiple times in rapid succession.

Aside from obvious annoyance at a sudden, jarring noise, Foxy thought nothing more of the honking. Mike on the other hand seemed to pick something up from it, causing him to perk up. He tried saying something. Foxy unpinned her ears from the sides of her head, still grinding her teeth as she barked, "What'd ya' say?!"

"It is my parents, Foxy!" repeated Mike.

"Bullshit!"

"I'm serious! I recognize that honking, it's a little tune my family uses."

As if summoned by mere word alone, the truck repeated the same pattern—albeit slower the second time around. "Can you tell 'em to knock it off, at least?" Foxy groaned, rubbing her temples.

A rush of cold air hit Foxy when Mike moved toward the front seat, accidentally tugging the blanket along with him. "Let's get out of here," he said, grabbing his underwear and jeans in one handful. He paused, glancing around more for a beat, then turned to Foxy again. Realizing his mistake with the blanket, Mike settled it back around the shivering vixen with an apologetic smile. "My bad. Could you give me a light, please? I can't find my socks up front."

"As l-long as ya' don't do that again, sure," Foxy replied with chattering teeth.

The blanket secured around her shoulders, Foxy pulled herself up to as close to a kneeling position as she could in the cramped car. She blinked. Through some mechanism she had never thought twice about, the yellows of Foxy's eyes lit up—quite literally, in fact—lighting up the car's interior with a warm, yellow glow. Without the cover of shadow, Mike's socks were revealed to have been laying on the steering wheel all along.

"Good grief..." Mike grumbled and snatched the socks from where they had been haphazardly tossed. Clothes now fully recovered, he leaned back in the seat and started getting dressed.

Foxy pouted as Mike pulled underwear up over his legs, sad to see such a nice view disappear. She noticed his breaths of effort were made clearly visible in the air by just how cold it was without the blanket's warmth, reminding her that she should be throwing her own clothes on right now. Getting out of this frozen hellhole was the biggest priority. She would have plenty of time to ogle him later.

Turning her attention to the passenger seat, Foxy reached for her belongings but froze in her tracks at the sight of them. Engulfed in golden light, her jeans and jacket on top of the pile were clearly still sopping wet just by the look of the darkened material—Foxy didn't even bother physically grabbing them to check.

"Shit, SHIT."

"Wh-what?" Mike asked, his voice shaking as he struggled pulling his jeans over shaking legs.

Foxy squeezed her eyes shut, the panic building in her chest causing her breathing to hitch. "My damned clothes are still soaked, slugger," she stammered. The idea of enduring wet, frigid clothes would have brought Foxy to her knees if she had been standing. "I don't think...I-I can't wear these—"

"Wear mine then."

Gawking, Foxy stopped in her speech to stare at Mike; he looked just as shocked as she was to hear those words leave his mouth. He blinked. Even with her eye-lights toggled back off, Foxy could clearly see him gulp in the dark. Then Mike took a steadying breath and added, "I can just wrap the blanket around myself. It'll be fine."

"Why shouldn't I wear the blanket instead?" Foxy asked. It wasn't Mike's fault that she had gotten her clothes wet after all.

"We're about to be sitting in the car with my parents, Foxy." He had already started sliding his jeans back off. Holding them out to her, Mike said, "I don't think you'll want to be functionally naked right next to them."

To Foxy, it seemed as if Mike was saying this more to convince himself if anything. Even if she found it hard to disagree with his reasoning, she still had some concerns. Mainly her own body. "I'm almost a foot taller than you, Michael. I don't think these will even fit me..."

"Yes, but unfortunately"—Mike emphasized the held out clothes again—"these are just gonna have to do for now."

"But then you're gonna be the naked one!"

"Look...I know it'll be embarrassing, but we just have to deal with it tonight," Mike reasoned. A smile flashed on his face briefly. "At least we have underwear."

A moment passed in silence before Foxy hesitantly took the offered clothing. Grumbling, she retrieved her dry bra and panties from the front seat and covered herself back up.

Even with Mike's longer than average legs, his jeans still ended up looking more like capris on Foxy. Several inches of her russet fur showed between the cuffs and her shoes. Her hips had also been a challenge too, but thankfully they fit snugly after some shimmying on her part. Despite the tight fit, Foxy had to admit that the material—some mixture of denim and whatever else—felt quite nice on her legs. Much better than her own decades-old pair. A strange feeling of embarrassment appeared in her upon that realization, though Foxy forced herself to ignore that as she pulled on Mike's shirt.

"Everything feel okay?" he asked, looking her up and down.

"It's a pain in the ass to not have a tail-hole, but everything else can be ignored until I get back to the stadium to change."

"Can't lie, I always imagined you wearing one of my shirts," joked Mike. "Didn't think it'd be this soon though."

"Shut up," Foxy shot back.

The frigid air immediately returned to the forefront of Foxy's mind once the blanket wasn't wrapped around her. She yanked Mike's coat from the front seat and threw her arms through the sleeves and zipped it up. The plush material lining the coat's interior felt comfortable on her fur, and its excellent insulation helped warm her right back up. If she wasn't careful, Foxy could wind up getting too used to these luxuries for her own good.

"Alright, let's not keep them waiting," Mike grunted, grabbing the door handle. He cast a questioning glance at her for confirmation.

With a brisk nod, Foxy braced herself. The groaning of the wind that had been audible even inside the car grew to a deafening roar as Mike heaved the door open. Outside forces pushed back against it, and Foxy could tell Mike struggled forcing it open in spite of that. The cold itself was surprisingly tolerable now that she had her torso adequately protected, though she still ground her teeth as her face took the brunt of it. Mike stepped out into the storm, the gales shifting the blanket about and threatening to carry it away from him. He used his body to prop the door, holding out his hand to her. A true gentleman, she thought bitterly. Against her better judgment, Foxy took the offered hand and allowed herself to be whisked away into the flurry.

The following seconds passed in a blur. Rushing snow obscured a lot of her vision. Nearly pushed over by billowing winds, the only reason Foxy pressed onward was a constant tugging on her hand that pulled her blindly away from the relative safety of the car. Awkward steps in snow deep enough to reach her calves took her in an unsure path. She already missed the car. The truck's harsh lights were the only reason she could even tell it existed at all in the frenzy. Even then, Foxy just barely distinguished it from the swirling white around her.

Cold...loud... Where the hell am I? Foxy's thoughts spun incoherently around in her head like soup.

Before she knew it, Foxy found herself seated in the back of the truck. A sudden contrast of that bitter cold and the warmth inside the vehicle stung Foxy's skin beneath her fur, but she didn't mind much. Within her chest, her heart slowly steadied itself and calmed down from a jazz drum-like rhythm. Some rock song played quietly on the radio, though at such a low volume the lyrics and whining guitar blended together into an incomprehensible drone.

It was only when she finally came to her senses that Foxy noticed Mike sitting to her left, his form uncomfortably twisted so he could look out the back window. His jaw clenched and relaxed repeatedly. If he had felt her staring at him at all, he didn't show it.

"I'll give you this—that car lasted longer than I thought it would."

Startled, Foxy spun toward the voice and saw Kimberly peering at them from the rear-view mirror. The woman's focus had initially been on her son, but upon meeting Foxy's gaze she turned fully in her seat to face them both with a warm smile.

"Hey dear, have a fun night?" she offered.

Foxy nodded. "Yeah, it...I had a lot of fun in spite of the car situation, actually." She glanced in Mike's direction. "First time bowling and all."

Kim's eyes traveled down, and she quirked a brow upon seemingly recognizing Mike's clothes on Foxy. Luckily for Foxy, she for whatever reason didn't press the issue. "Well, hopefully you didn't whoop him too hard. Bowling was a rare pride and joy for him back in the day, ya' know."

"Yup, he and I had a good talk about that."

"Did you now? Those were some good times we had, all those years ago," said Victor from the driver's seat. Not breaking eye-contact with the road, he continued, "I'm assuming Jeremy was still working the desk?"

It seemed as if that last question was aimed toward Mike, but when he didn't respond after a couple seconds Foxy spoke up with a nod. "He told us to let you know he says 'hey'."

"Figured. Old man'll probably be there to the day he dies, knowing him." He chuckled lowly, humming. "Believe it or not, I'm not sure Kim and I would be together without him."

That reminded Foxy of something. She had never gotten an answer about that conversation between Mike and Jeremy right before they left the bowling alley. "Why's that?" Foxy asked before quickly adding a stuttered, "i-if ya' don't mind me askin', I mean."

"It was the music," Kim answered, breaking out into laughter of her own.

"...music?"

"Jeremy had this thing for playing sappy love songs when any would-be couples were bowling."

Suspiciously looking at Mike with a raised brow, Foxy asked, "Is that so?"

"Back when we were just friends, Vick and I had gone there one night after school to blow off some steam. At one point we noticed these really romantic songs had started playing—"

"One thing led to another..." Victor mumbled.

"—we ended up leaving that night as a couple, and thirty years later here we are still together."

Foxy didn't say anything to that, instead just peering over at Mike who had still not said a word since they got in the car. She wanted to ask him if he had known about that all along, but something about the distant look on his face threw her off. This was probably the longest she had talked to anybody aside from Mike—without him being in the conversation to assist, either—and being honest with herself, Foxy was a little winded from the experience already. At the very least she felt confident that they weren't judging her or anything, but still. She couldn't help the anxiety hovering around in her gut. What's wrong with him?

"Still bummed about that car, Michael?" asked Victor eventually, apparently aware of the man's silence as well.

Following the inquiry, Foxy wondered if Mike had heard the question at all. The man hadn't even budged. After a moment though, he begrudgingly turned around in the seat and sighed. "Yeah."

"It was on its last leg for months, Michael. Hell—years, even. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did at all."

"So am I."

"Why'd you even keep it as long as you did? You know it was a piece of junk."

Mike shook his head, not facing to look at either of them. "That piece of junk was the first big thing I bought. Using my own money."

A slight edge came to Mike's voice at that, one that Foxy had never heard from the man. She couldn't tell if it stemmed from anger, or something else entirely. Foxy watched him roll his shoulders under the blanket, and though he looked as if he wanted to say something else, Mike simply slumped over to lean his head against the window.

Victor's voice was softer as he asked, "You got paid for your last couple matches, didn't you?"

"Mmhm."

"You can probably afford a better car with money like that, I'd assume," said Kim consolingly. "That's gotta be worth something, right?"

Once again choosing to not reply vocally, Mike huffed and sat back up with his mouth set in a thin line. His mood looked at least marginally less sour Foxy thought to herself, noting his brows had relaxed by a couple degrees. Seemingly feeling her gaze on him at some point, Mike lulled his head toward Foxy. They held eye contact without any exchanging of words, his face maintaining a solemn expression at first. Then, with only a single muscle in his face moving, Mike arched a brow at her.

Foxy could only offer him a gentle smile. She wanted so badly to grab his hand. To hold it tightly in hers and let him know everything was okay. That everything was going to get better. Without his parents knowing about their relationship however, she thought it would look a little strange for them to share such a tender moment. Just barely—to the point that her one good hand actually twitched—Foxy refrained from reaching out.

Snow outside the window looked like television static set upon a black backdrop. Aside from the occasional glimpses of light in the distance, Foxy couldn't spot anything out the window that would help her pinpoint their rough location. Surely the snow was slowing down their travel to some extent, even if the truck sliced through it with ease. Aside from the occasional rumble, the ride was so smooth it felt as if they were cutting through the air itself, rather than barreling down a road at 60 miles per hour.

Foxy wondered how far they had left to go until they reached the coliseum. Toward the front of the truck, AC controls and many buttons of unknown function jutted out of a panel within the center console, which transitioned smoothly into a starkly-lit LED screen near the dash. Eyes quickly adjusting to the jarringly bright display, Foxy squinted at the screen. It read the title of the current song in bold orange text atop a gray background, along with the band below it written in smaller white text. Ignoring both, she read the clock shown in the top-right corner—11:28 P.M.

The reality of how much time had flown by struck Foxy, causing the dull anxiety in her chest to crescendo. It wasn't like she had a curfew or anything like that, it just felt like ages had passed since she had last been safe and alone in her own domain. Even if it had only been a few hours in reality. A creature of habit like herself felt strange breaking a decades old tradition, and with each passing moment it took more of a toll on her. She opened her maw to speak, choked on anxiety for a split-second, then cleared her throat and tried again.

"H-how far away do you think we are from the arena?" Foxy cursed herself for the stutter that came out.

"Hm?" Victor blinked, breaking out of a focus-induced stupor. "The FBF? Oh, probably like a good twenty—maybe thirty—minutes away I'd say, if I were to wager a guess."

Foxy didn't like the unsure answer, but didn't know how to express that without sounding rude. "Okay..."

"Let's check real quick to be sure. Kimberly?"

"I've got you, dear," the woman replied knowingly, reaching over and pressing a finger to an icon at the top of the screen.

The music information disappeared, replaced by what appeared to be a map of the surrounding area. A text box popped up near the bottom along with an onscreen keyboard. As Kim typed in the name of the arena, Foxy stared in barely contained awe at the technology on display. Features like these made Mike's car look even older in comparison, which was hard to believe when remembering that the car was already ancient enough all by itself. There hadn't even been a CD slot in its console.

The truck slowed to take a turn, and the map magically rotated to orient itself with the vehicle. Questions pertaining to such tech filled Foxy's head, but before she could ask any of them a red warning box popped up on-screen with a matching sound.

BEEP-BEEP!

Victor let out a low whistle. "Oooh...on second thought, we might have to change our plan tonight," he pondered, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. "Roads are closed due to multiple crashes and a downed power-line."

Having just finished reading that same information for herself, Foxy felt her chest clench. "Change plans how, exactly?" she asked.

"All of these detours added together time-wise would likely take us another hour," said Kim, emphasizing the last word in particular. "And that's in addition to the time it would already take getting there without them."

Out of the blue, Mike reentered the conversation with a grunt. "It might be easier to just have Foxy stay over tonight," he said to his parents. Yawning, he then looked back at Foxy. "We have an extra room and everything."

"That would work perfectly!" chimed Kim, her eyes visible in the rear-view mirror.

Foxy felt surrounded. It wasn't as if it would be her first time venturing out of her comfort zone tonight. She had to give herself credit there, at least. That said, Foxy didn't know just how much more excitement her biomechanical heart could take. Uncertainty clouded her mind even as she attempted to reason with herself. Despite her having enjoyed her previous visit to the Schmidt household, Foxy felt a pitiful part of herself being tugged toward where it knew she truly belonged—the very halls of the FBF were calling out to her. Those daunting, claustrophobic corridors...

A hand grabbing her own brought Foxy back to the present. Mike tenderly squeezed her fingers in his, reaching out from beneath the blanket. "Trust me."

Focusing solely on the embrace, Foxy tried to ignore Kim's eyes practically drilling a hole into the side of her head from their silent gaze. Regardless of whether she actually chose to say anything or not, Mike's mother clearly suspected something between the two of them. That much wasn't lost on Foxy. That said, she decided that they could deal with actually spilling those beans at a later point.

"Okay," Foxy said, letting out a breath she hadn't intentionally held. "Okay. As long as y'all are totally okay with me being there, I'll go."

Her decision hung in the air then as no objections were voiced. Unspecific rock music filled the car again, and occasional taps from Kim messing around on her phone could just barely be heard over the steady thrum of the truck's engine. Leather and fabric crumpled in the seat next to her. Mike rolled his broad shoulders until the blanket dropped to his lap, unveiling his sweat-slicked skin and letting cool air wash over him.

The shifting of fabric caught Victor's attention just enough that he peeked away from the road for a split-second, and he finally noticed the clothes situation in the backseat. Eyes alternating between the road and Mike in the mirror, Victor awkwardly cleared his throat and asked, "Michael, where are your clothes?"

"Foxy's wearing them," Mike replied with a yawn, either pretending to not care or just too tired to pay it any mind.

"Erm...and where are hers, exactly?"

Watching the whole ordeal with wide eyes, Foxy sunk lower in her seat and suddenly wished she was invisible, cheeks burning all the while. She barely noticed the pain from her tail grinding uncomfortably between her hips and the waist of the jeans.

"They got wet when we first got stranded," explained Mike. He clicked his tongue nonchalantly. "Didn't want her to freeze, so I gave her mine and I'm wearing this blanket instead."

A pause. Then Victor pinched his brow. "...boy, are you at least wearing underwear on my leather seats?"

"For fuc-yes, dad. I'm covered."

Aside from Kim quietly snickering to herself, that appeared to be the end of that conversation. Thank god, Foxy thought to herself as she sighed in relief. She had been dreading that topic in the back of her mind for the entire trip. For the rest of the short ride back to the Schmidt household, she tipped her head back onto the seat's headrest and let her yellow eyes gaze absently out the window.

Through the flurries of snowflakes, the rough, geometric outlines of suburban homes could just barely be made out in the night. Streetlights cast ghostly blankets of illumination toward the buildings but just barely fell short, resulting in darkness and the constant precipitation obscuring any fine details. Only one or two houses in Kingswick Circle still had their porch lights on at such a late hour.

They passed a few more of the buildings before a familiar-looking outline came into view ahead. Miniature lanterns staked in the ground down the length of the driveway and along the walkway leading up to the porch illuminated the path. Paneled off-white walls reflected the light from two fixtures located on either side of the front door, its dark red paint peaking through the storm like blood through snow.

With a final churning of snow beneath its massive tires, the truck turned and pulled into the driveway. Victor pushed a button on a previously unseen device hanging from the sun-visor, and the garage door roared to life as servos whined, working gears to pull it open.

The door closed behind them with the distinct sound of rubber stamping down onto concrete. With the frigid forces of nature sealed away behind sections of steel and aluminum, the air within the insulated garage felt comfortably warm as Foxy swung open the truck door. She landed silently from a nearly two foot drop. While the other occupants followed suit behind her, Foxy took a moment to finally observe the vehicle in a stable environment.

A behemoth in size, the truck's body was painted a dark gray shade, complemented by orange highlights around certain curves and edges. Remnants of slush melted in drops off of tires that fell just short of Foxy's hips in height. Some strange variant of a Jeep according to an emblem on its flank. The frame vaguely reminded her of much older models she had seen in the past, albeit with a truck bed welded on in back.

What caught Foxy off-guard the most about the vehicle however was witnessing Victor plug it into the wall, followed by a distant buzzing in the air.

Since when were cars powered by electricity?

She didn't know a lot about cars admittedly. There wasn't much of a need to when you never strayed from a single location. Still, one of the few aspects she had retained from their mentions in her books was their gas guzzling nature.

Foxy shook her head, trying to not think too deeply about how much technology had advanced as she followed Mike inside.

It's been a minute, hasn't it? Since the last time we met here, we've all been thrown into a global pandemic, traded one demented old bastard in office for a slightly better one, and—less importantly—I've transferred to a completely different major in school. Yet even through all this, I still thought about this story just about everyday. I don't plan on trying to excuse my long absence, just know that I plan on taking this story to the finish line.

I'm well aware that there are plenty of issues with this story, looking back on earlier chapters with some more experience under my belt. Pacing is the big one, and part of me is tempted to go back and change things at some point. Who knows if I'll end up actually doing it. Either way, I'm going to focus on getting this story back on track.

As I did before, I will read all reviews/PMs and respond to as many as I can. That said, it's not hard to tell that FNAF isn't nearly as popular as it was before. To the few of you who favorited and followed this story in the past year somehow—you picked a great time to stumble upon this. And to the one or two of you who are still here all these years later—welcome back! Enjoy this longer chapter while I continue writing the next one, which I've already started on by the time you read this.

With love,

~Zach.