The Nursery

(December, 2031)

It began the after-hours shift of that same night. Moon woke and consulted their mental map for the section recently implemented into their databanks. It marveled that even two months into exploring the niches and corners of this grand monument to entertainment that there were passages it had never seen, and places in the depths of the complex it never knew existed. But there was no reason to hang back, pondering this gap in its own knowledge. It knew now, and there was new work to do. New faces to tend, teach, and watch over.

A winding series of airlock-style storage halls and corner rooms lay, mostly disused, roughly four meters below the center of the crowd seating by the main stage. Moon had no data on what exactly the place looked like—only that it currently contained its assignment. Approaching a branching hall with a lolloping gait, its head cocked aside to study the dark passage and the security door that had been ignored until tonight. Ducking towards it, the door's sensors registered the Daycare Attendant and flew open with a pneumatic k-chang.

Silence. Silence so deep, even the dust fluttering down from a cellar spider's freshly-spun cobweb sounded like a delicate sprinkling of sand on the wind. The caretaker robot lowered into a defensive hunch, padding forward with gaze shooting about, seeking any semblance of a figure.

"Helloooo..?~" Its cooing voice echoed a jarring amount in the high but narrow spaces and the side halls lined with jumbled racks, stacked with plastic storage totes. It withheld its further beckoning greetings, recalculating how much volume was appropriate to unleash in here. At a crawling pace, it began to notice comforting details appearing here and there: Someone had dropped off a pallet of the foam-back squares tiling the floors of Superstar Daycare's playgrounds, though had neglected to install them into the space except at one corner office space. Two fingers brushed the colorful squares feather-soft, creating trails in the film of mustiness and neglect, and it remembered. "Uhu… I have been here." It turned its head almost to a perfect 90 degrees, eyeline landing exactly upon a crumpled, extra-wide Chica plush atop a mountain of dusty coloring books. Just where it had been.

Heartening to the location in spite of the abandoned chill sifting through it, the Daycare Attendant reached for the toy, intent to pat it as the fond recall of Mr. Jobe's calm instructions floated up. Appropriately enough—it was woken from the stupor of its own first moments by a heavy thud, and a hollow skithering from the storage racks in the adjoining hallway. Moon shuffled sideways at a cautious pace, sensors trained on hiding places, and jumped a few inches in shock as one of the crates itself shifted with violent force.

Someone is trapped in the box, and as if yanked into action by a psychic tether, Moon scrambled to lay palms on the crate in question. It was a more recent addition to the dank shelves, made of a robust plastic. In a few seconds' examination it found the carabiners holding the lid securely on and wrenched them loose.

"Oh—oh—poor darling..!" It muttered with a hint of whine undercutting the soothing roll of its voice, and pulled the heavy lid aside as quietly as it could. Who could tell how many hours the unknown being had spent in such a cruel confinement? Was this a child? Was a staff member responsible for this? "Easy, friend~ Easy~ You're free now, come on out of that nasty little shoebox, let me have a look at your…"

Face.

As if from a jack-in-the-box, the deep gray, wiry figure unfolded up and its limbs flung out in front of its steel jaws and blazing red eye sensors. A Glamrock Modular Endoskeletal Robotic Base—more conveniently known as a Glam-Endo to the techs—nearly as tall as Moon but with a chest and shoulder housing twice as broad to hold the immense rounded battery disc, as lightly made as Sun though of cheaper materials and of a hodge-podge of very loosely assembled modular parts. Without casing, this one was rendered nearly as expressionless as the Daycare Attendant, though with a mouth that gaped open, then shut, then open in apparent alarm.

Moon's fingers trailed up over their own facepiece, tactile sensors noting the deep scrape in the paint on its nose. It took a bit of convincing to move the gears in its mind to recognize what happened; there was no blaming the endo, really. The poor thing was in panic, trapped in that box while activated. Why had someone activated it in such a state? Wouldn't it be easier to leave it out, waiting on them?

"Good evening, my new friend..!" Moon settled back on its haunches and lifted its palms again in a placating manner, "I'm so sorry our first meeting had to start like this… Come along now, step out of there~ There's a much nicer spot over this way…" Moon led the way by twisting back onto its hands and side-"stepping" back to the padded area. With a dull clink of servos coming unstiffened and a whine of motors, the endo followed at a shaky pace. It seemed to jolt in surprise as it stepped upon the first square of foam, peering down and staring deep into the soft blue hue.

That's right… Moon considered as it came back into a more natural squatting position in the center, a finger tapping the curved lower crescent of its chin, This fellow hasn't got the experience the others have. It's why I'm here! This could perhaps be slower than expected—possibly too slow for management's liking—considering what was not included in new Glam-Endos upon activation. No speech capacity (though surely understanding language somewhat already), no social conditioning, no, well… no directive. No knowledge or skills. Not even the dignity of a "starter personality". Moon let that linger on its processors too long, and with a start realized the endo was staring it down in the long pause.

"You wouldn't have a name yet, would you sweetheart?" It mused, and the blank robot graced it with a… responsive blink, "Hmm~ Perhaps a nickname for now? Hmm… I know, I could call you 'Friendo'. Would you like that?"

The endo stared, clearly listening, but returning nothing. With a large palm flattening over its large face, it realized this was not necessarily rejection. It wasn't anything! No social conditioning. Without speech, the poor thing had no understanding of how to respond. Affirmative or not.

"You're probably having a laugh at me in your head..!" Moon chuckled, "All the better~ Foolish of me to not get to teaching you a few things first. Please, sit and make yourself comfortable—We can start with gestures!"

Providing confirmation the endos could understand spoken direction even in this early ignorance, the framework creature squeaked at the joints and sank into a childlike sitting posture, knees together and dangerous-looking screwtip-fingered hands atop them. Something about this triggered the Daycare Attendant's warm and fuzzies in its mainframe, despite all the cold metal abound.

"Excellent~" Moon gave a very fluid, exaggerated nod, "Now, you see how I move my head here? This is a nod!~ Nodding is how to say 'yes' without any words… though you can also express many kinds of approval with it.

"Now, does that make sense?" Moon cocked its head, watching the glaring red beams of its eyes with patient intent. Slowly, the endo blinked, and then let its neck motors dip in a shy-seeming nod. The caretaker clasped its hands together; as fast as a toddler, if not faster, "Oho!~ Very very very good! Keep practicing that when spoken to—you'll only get better. Now… a few more gestures…"

Several hours had been spent in the early morning with Friendo, forcing the Daycare Attendant to only make a single security loop to check up on the more finished friends, and resulting in the Moon settling with a heavy, tired sigh and a muffled clumph! onto its cushion and plushie nest for the second time that night. It was 5:59 a.m. Its eyes flicked to the rolled-up extension cord lying close by. Pity it had not thought to skim off some of the Fizzy Faz syrup base! Leo might be here around 7 a.m., so it reached to grab its means of charging and hooked itself up to the wall socket. An hour was not much, but it was usually enough to be spry and peppy for either of its tasks.

"Buddy?"

Before it knew it, the Daycare Attendant's internal chronometer chimed, improbably in time to hear the scraggly-haired tech patting against one of its blush-painted cheeks. Its back arched tightly enough to almost expose a segment of its internal portion through the plating before flopping upright.

"Goo—d morning, Leo!" Sun said, its head giving a hard jerk as it came to and was instantly forced to transform into daytime mode, sunrays popping out all at once. "I was hoping you'd be here this morning!"

"Good to see ya, buddy," and the man crouched with grimy mustache twitching into a smile. He'd not showered. Not a surprise when evening and morning shifts ended up back-to-back, with scarcely a healthy human's sleeping time between them. "So? How did it go with our new addition?"

"Ah!—" Sun crossed its legs, gaze swiveling over severely towards the man. Leo found it fascinating that the robot's fixed face could still be molded by force of will into a few distinct moods—just with a clownish flash of other, twitchy pieces of body language. "The endo—yes! I must say, they are a very quick study—and generally very polite and good-natured! I've started them on their social skills to help them communicate and understand staff better, though—" Sun loomed, and leaned to within several inches of Leo's face, "Why were they in a sealed box?"

"Uh?" Leo's face did not send Sun's facial recognition system any signals of false sincerity, "Well, no point in getting them out until you're there. Why-wh—what's up?"

"Leo," Sun gave the tech a few more inches of space, fingers steepling, "Friendo was already on inside that box!"

"Oh." Leo's ragged, unintended mustache twitched, "Err… 'Friendo'..?"

"Temporary affectionate nickname!"

"Er… right," The man's rough, calloused hand rubbed at the base of his neck, brows twisting into sweaty disturbance, "But to be clear, I don't get why anyone'd do that. It'd have to be open and assembled to be active so puttin' the poor thing back in the box makes no sense." He frowned deeper; he'd not remembered who was tasked with setting up the Glam-Endo as he'd not been on the list of people told who, but it must be one of the other members of the tech and maintenance team. Jackie? But she was arrogant, not sadistic. Besides, who exactly was she exerting revenge on by doing that to a blank, innocent robot? It was not as if Jackie believed very much in the metallic entertainers' possible consciousness. Leo winced; unless that had changed.

"Are you well, friend?"

Leo jumped in place. "Oh, uh, yes? What's the matter—I runnin' a fever?"

"I'm not detecting one! However, your face did that one scrunch motion." The celestial-themed figure had its feet under it and flowed upright in a second, peering back down at a quizzical angle, "Every time I've seen someone do that—it means they are in pain of some kind!"

"No, no. I was just tryin' to think of who…" He shook his head. "And I can't think of anyone who would box up the poor endo."

"A mystery for a later hour, I think!" Sun spun around on one heel, finger digits doing a series of twitches; facing up towards the open loft archway, it was clear that the robot caretaker's processors were preoccupied. Children would need caring for and soon: "It is only ten minutes to opening and I must make sure I'm not germy!" Leo pressed himself back in the clattered space, clearing the way for the Daycare Attendant's swift leap up to the high ground. It tugged loose a disinfectant wipe and fussed over its hands and face plate, much like a speedy, neurotic rabbit would. "—But I will investigate this later, if you like."

"No, no, bud." Leo caught the discarded cleaning rag as the robot tossed it down—redirecting it into the small wastebin that it would have missed by an inch or two. "Focus on your work. Leave this to me."

In utter spite of the introduction Friendo had to the world of the basement level, their manners and mannerisms were improving by the night. Shortly after the Daycare Attendant's first security sweep it would scurry along to the underground cul-de-sac maze with the same joy with which it jumped into the care of its little human charges. By now, it had conceded there was little distinction. Not at the heart of it.

However, Moon remained somewhat underwhelmed with the teaching environment. That night it crept straight-postured to the depths—a necessity due to its arms being loaded with two rates of its artistic remedy. The first hour it entertained the Glam-Endo with both its musically-toned chatter and the work it undertook on several door panels to decorate them to its satisfaction.

C-tink—c-tink—c-tink—!

Moon's head revolved around both upside down and backwards over its shoulder at the rhythmic noise, pausing midway through smearing free the stray blots of acrylic paints from its palms and fingertips. Friendo was settled with their wire-frame knees up level with their metal ribcage on one of the preposterously tiny toddler chairs, looking on Moon's creation and… applauding! Or rather, letting a few of their screwtip fingers rattle against each other in timid clashes.

"Ohuhu~ Why thank you..!" Moon beamed, and set down the mostly used-up paints and palettes before bowing in an extra flourish, and a jingle of the bell on their hat. "I'm flattered, my Friendo… now—look at all of these! They're for you, of course. Some helpful reminders~"

Friendo rose to their feet and took a shy pace towards the final door panel in the series; regardless of how gently the mechanical being stepped, even this clanged against the grate flooring. The reddish light cast by their optical sensors stained the myriad, muted hues that the Daycare Attendant had painted into the figures: A small boy, perhaps suspiciously similar in features to the Balloon Boy character who took a leading role in Fazbear Entertainment cartoons, standing with a woman intended to be a mother or babysitter, was being handed a big red balloon by a somewhat simplified but accurate rendition of a Glam-Endo. Somehow, the robot's features had been tweaked and twisted and given the impression of a wide, happy grin. Neither of the mechanical creatures quite grasped the magnitude of that form of expressive skill—though the appreciation of the scene and its colors were obvious.

Friendo's motors jolted as it hustled back a step from the painting. Puzzled and running through a series of potential malfunctions or maladaptations, Moon stretched out its hands and steadied the endo by the broad steel shoulder housings.

"Oh?" Its gaze focused on the problem as Friendo turned their bare frame away, one digit lifting up with sheepish slowness—stuck with a dab of still-wet gray and whitish paint. "Oho~ That's alright—no need to be embarrassed… you've not done anything wrong, look..!" With its own pointing finger, Moon directed the new robot's attentions back up to the slight swirling of detail on the panel's art: "It's fingerpainting~ All you did is contribute, see? No harm done… Perhaps once you've been given your nice fingertips, we can try some together on paper."

Friendo extended the screwtip of their index finger, head bobbing vigorously as they allowed their clownish guardian to wipe the fresh paint from it with the cleaning rag. Moon chuckled, giving the silent robot a gentle pat on the shoulder frames before its other hand swept in a broad gesture towards the older panels. "Come along now, have a look at the others… I'll do my best to explain the rules of them as we go.~"

Some days later, the Daycare Attendant felt that Friendo was ready to undertake the tech's first developmental test. Of course, while it would have preferred to stay right at their side for support, Jackie and even the usually dependable robotics whizz, Robert, dismissed the need for the mechanical jester's advocacy. Robert reasoned—as he often did—that it would be a more clear result if it was only the young, bare-bones robot in the test chamber.

Circuits buzzing with anticipation and anxiety—Moon hovered about in the Parts and Services hub for the hour anyway, though barred from the testing areas with both its own promises and a locked security door of tenth level. Even the Daycare Attendant did not have such permissions. A motion in the corner of its eye from the diagnostics slab opposite the room caught its instant attention.

Foxy was conscious.

"Good morning, technically..!" The robotic clown braced its blue fingertips upon the lip of the equipment that poor Rockstar Foxy rested on while so incapacitated. He came to with a distinct and concerning electrical buzz; the vulpine was held in a slightly raised lying position, a hazard-yellow fabric strap holding him to the slab and his head elevated. A tangle of wires were docked into every gap of his joints, and several issued from a portion of the back of his head that had been sawn out with a surgical… power tool of some sort. The screen positioned above on the wall scrolled with data, diagrams which flashed in certain spots with the passing seconds, and the odd window of error code. A yellow eye scrolled over towards Moon, heavily.

"Oh, you…" Foxy's voice crackled with noise and weariness. Either his voicebox was faulty itself, or was not able to draw enough power for his normally clear and natural quality, "Whaddya want?"

"Only to see how you were holding up, my dear Foxy!" Moon's head spun in place as they crouched to a lower, more private distance, "I've been so worried since hearing you collapsed. They wouldn't let me see you any earlier, you know…" Its upper eyelids slanted in a dull, exasperated look that it knew the rebellious fox would both know well and appreciate, "for some reason… My goodness, Jackie really stepped in it this time, didn't she..?"

"F—F—Fjwk 'er…" the fox spat, unable to quite overcome the vocabulary limitations under only the life-support voltage. He slackened the joints in his neck and stared into the steel supports criss-crossing the ceiling, "She hates me."

"Oh, ho, no, I wouldn't say—"

"Yer too nice, Moony," he interrupted the celestial figure's soft reassurance, one pupil tinged with inner glow flicking over to it. "She don't care, 'swhat I mean. It's just as bad as hatin' someone. I'm just a hard time t' her; we ain't all got what you got."

The Daycare Attendant's facial disc ticked a few degrees, the floppy hat's bell tinkling against the jointed neck. The anti-neglect protocols seemed to chime in agreement with the fox robot, and with a deep humming they nodded, "Maybe, maybe~ I do have Leo. The little ones. Though…" Fingers rapped on the smooth surface, "…I would not be tempted to say any of us have it easy, friend."

"Y' what?" Foxy tried, and failed with the dull grind of motors, to sit up higher. His jaw gaped at a slant, baring polymer teeth, until the large hand patted against his immobilized arm.

"It isn't a contest," Moon whispered, and the beads of red light flickered to each side until it was sure none of the human element were close by, "and you'd be surprised how little most of these grown folk think of me… All of us, same shaky boat. You know?"

"Ah, yeh…" Jaw relaxed, clacking open against the false leather jacket's collar. Moon's palm patted against his parrot tattoo more resolutely.

"Same boat—means same boat. So we all paddle, if you catch my meaning." The mechanical jester's voice bubbled up somewhat, bordering on the range of the daytime mode, "I will do what I can to help you..! Leo will listen to me—I can work through Leo. I would not trust Jackie to repair you—once I'm done bringing Friendo back to their zone, I'll talk him into it…"

"Friendo?" Rockstar Foxy's eyelids squinted in, ears twitching," There's a kid here this late?"

"Ohohu, no," the clown's deep chuckle rattled the bells on its wrists, "That's just what I've been calling the new Endo. Little portmanteau..!"

The vulpine's eyes opened wider, wider—"New Endo?"

"Oho, yes," Moon's slipper scuffed a step back, "They with to have another character among us. The techs are quite busy fixing you, so they're having me train the fellow."

With a sigh that turned half-growl, every servo in Rockstar Foxy's weakened frame slumped.

"Oh, you bleedin' idiot," he grumbled. The jester felt heat build in its chest compartment as the fox's brows dug downwards and his glare fell on them, "I swear, yer th' smartest fool ever. When'd they have this 'new endo' idea, eh? Right after they broke me?"

"No, no," the Daycare Attendant's tone was still its silky, soft usual, but became as firm as its own metal frame as it rejected what he was implying. A hand gripping around the closest red-hued paw, Moon's back straightened and it towered up. "Don't suggest such a thing, now. Not even our dear, blundering Dave is silly enough to try and replace Foxy."

"An' they're incompetent! An' they don't care," Foxy's gaze snapped down, unable to meet the red laser focus, "What else're they doin', making a new Endo?"

For a second, the clownish robot recognized it was too engrossed in its after-hours directives; Moon untightened its grip, switching over to a gentle two-handed cradling of the metallic paw sheathed in cracked polymer, and lowered itself until hovering just at the prone form's eye level. Once again, Moon whispered, "Shh, shh, trust me, Foxy… They cannot be working to replace you… They are not making a new Foxy."

His expression turned worried, as much as it could: Jaw tightening and ears folding back, "How d'ya know?"

"Because," Moon purred, head tilting just a touch, "Friendo is not even a Fox-type base model. Actually, they're a bear."

"Is… well, ain't that close enough?"

"Oh, no~ They'd never be able to fix the ears right," and, with a giggle, added on: "Not to mention an imposter Foxy with a pug snout would ne—ever fly..!"

"I… guess not," Foxy's digits relaxed, for once, and the tension in the robotic caretaker's shoulders let up as well. The rebel of the group was never at ease, exactly, but this grumpy, slightly bored released of stress was far closer to normal.

"That's a good bot," Moon grinned. It glanced over the cords once more before giving his slack paw another squeeze. "I don't suppose anyone's been kind enough to give you an update on your own repairs—perhaps a time table..?"

"Ah, that," Oddly, Rockstar Foxy's mood was lifted, and his jaw clacked in thought. "For one, my battery's ripped all t' hell and back. That'd be why I can't get up." He growled, "Gotta stay on th' slab just for the power cables."

"Does it…" It hesitated. It… had to admit, it regarded its fellows as equals, but it did not have the data implanted in its mainframe to know whether or not the robotic beings of slightly later, slightly cheaper, very much heavier make had the same experiential capacities as it did. Were they… numb? Likely not—a being expected to walk about, to move with balance in performance, and especially to do such delicate tasks as sign autographs and shake hands… well, they must have at least one of myriad layers of a tactile detection system. But how far had the creators gone for them, versus itself? "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"Hoho, no. I mean, it's awkward bein' pinned down like this. But it ain't hurt at all since after that first fall on th' stage."

"Ah, ah, I'm glad to hear it…" Moon stood fully. There was a minor hubbub, but not quite what it would class as a kerfuffle, brewing behind the testing chamber doors, and it supposed this meant the techs within were preparing to relinquish control of Friendo, "I'm glad you are at least not in pain… oof, I worried quite a bit about that, what with how long this battery replacement is taking…"

"Oi, no worries," Foxy snorted. "As y' said, they ain't replacin' me. I'm too popular to replace, eh?"

"Ooh, the little ones do love you~" Moon beamed.

"Ah, yeh… battery an' some tuning. Who knows how much sweet time they'll take," Foxy, perhaps on programmed instinct despite CO2 exchange not being a factor for him, yawned. "Glad ya came by, though. Let th' band know I'm still kickin', will ya?"

"Uhuhu—they will be so glad to hear it..!"

Another night—another lovely night.

The last of the late class of toddlers had by now arrived home, been tucked into their beds, and had been having sweet dreams for hours; at least, that was how the Daycare Attendant imagined it happening, in an ideal world. From experience it knew very well that for some of its little friends there would be hitches. James may have The Tooth Nightmare tonight—the bizarre horror of that exacerbated by the coincidence that his baby teeth were beginning to loosen. Until his attendance here, no one seemed to have explained that baby teeth do, in fact, leave your gums at some point. Poor thing. He'd be afraid to eat anything hard or crunchy. Sun made a reminder to set aside some extra fruit gummies for him tomorrow. Those tended to break through the little guy's dental reservations…

Much the same way it went to extra effort for its humans, on this night as it blitzed through the last segment of disinfecting the ball pits and crafts tables it took a pause and tucked away the antibacterial spray and the half-expended cleansing wipes. Before it was time to descend, it had to pick up what it had set aside. From the bright red basket under the edge of the security station Sun's fingers dove in and retrieved the awaiting Glam-Endo's treat: A very special plushie—one of only a dozen or so made—a Glamrock Freddy but of a resilient, shimmering golden fabric. Sun gave a deep chuckle and sat it upright on top of the cubby shelving. With a thumb and forefinger of each hand, it gave a tiny tug on each side of the small, glittery bowtie—adjusting it to proper fullness. The robot tilted its head in a sharp motion—subroutines kicking over as 11:59 turned to midnight—and bathing the gold toy in red light, turning it a brilliant orange for the moment before Sun plucked it back up and straightened to full height. It was time!

Someone had cut the Daycare's lighting while the caretaker was mid-vault through the gap in the netting over the huge wooden door, and Sun became Moon as it tumbled to the floor. Springing back up, the plush was tucked under one arm, the remaining three limbs needed for clambering into the nearest vent in the outside section—taking the swiftest shortcut.

"Uhuhuhuhuhue~" Sliding down into underground passages, Moon cackled to themselves as it very nearly forgot to rotate its hip socket back forward before attempting its first steps. This playful foolishness carried over as the Daycare Attendant poked its head out around the corner before Friendo's more comfortable corner, the locked grin paired with a delighted squint, "Ohoho—Friendo..! I heard from Leo how well you did in your test last night~"

Friendo's head swiveled up to meet the lunar disc, half-hunched and their unease not yet apparent to the caretaker. Moon's head rocked back once it had a chance to appraise the contents of the room; it stepped out fully, sensors whipping between the folded-up forms. Lining the back wall where nothing had rested before were now three additional Modular Endoskeletons.

"Friendo? Oh, what is this…?" The Daycare Attendant's bells jingled and it padded up to the row, standing hunched between the cowering one and the inert shapes that copied them. Upon inspection, Moon noted the ocular structures were dull—unlit and gazing endlessly downwards between their folded legs. Reminded of dead insects, Moon stepped back and flipped its attention back to the distress of its charge, "Now, now, sweetheart, it's alright… They look strange, don't they?"

Friendo nodded; their frame still shook, but their red eyes now passed back and forth between staring down the source of their terror and pleading for support and attention from the mechanical figure they knew.

"They look like you, silly fella~" The fixed face turned to a ninety-degree angle as Moon crouched down right beside them, an elongate finger pointing out and outlining the distinctive robotic features, pieces, and shapes, "No doubt they're meant to become your friends—ah?" Friendo was frantically signaling. No, of course—it wasn't something so simple as not recognizing their odd appearance as being their own. The endoskeleton had raised up a finger on each hand, crossing them in an "x", and held the letter up in front of one of their own bulbous eyeballs.

"Oh—Oh, I see~" Moon laughed softly, "No, no, no, they're not dead, I assure you… They're not awake yet. You were the same way once—before I came down to first meet you..!"

Friendo's lens apertures widened—narrowed—and with a shy nod allowed their guardian to clasp their screwtip fingers and lead them over to within a few feet of the infant robots. Or… fetal robots, perhaps? The distinction among their like was not so clear compared to the daycare clown's understanding of new humans. All it would take to bring them to life with the learning capacity of a child several years old was the sparking of one activation switch. Was that easier? Moon reflexively gave the endo a gentle pat on the head; probably not, as Friendo seemed to have found his sudden consciousness jarring.

"Mind your hands, Friendo," It reminded before the bear endo could quite finish reaching to prod one of the inert ears. "Good, very good~ I know you're curious, but we mustn't touch them while they're asleep. We have to ask before touching, yes?"

Friendo nodded more exuberantly. With a purr of relief, Moon watched the much loosened-up form take a half-step back and hold out their bare, wiry limbs open-handed.

"Ohohu, yes of course, you can have one from me," it replied, shuffling up and wrapping their arms around the endo. Another point of improvement was how mindful Friendo now was of their "claws", and keeping them pointed outward to not scrape up their caretaker's paint coating. With a subtle motion Moon disengaged from the hug without a scratch—and also while pressing the Golden Freddy plushie into the younger robot's open hands. "Ah, aha—that was distracting, wasn't it? Here—you've earned it..!"

Friendo's lenses dilated massively, turning the rare gift over and over, mastering the delicate motions required to not puncture the fabric with their sharp edges. When their gaze bobbed back up to meet Moon's, it noted a distinct glimmer in them.

"Yes, it is yours now…!" Moon sat down on a kiddie-sized stool, knees up at around chest level in a preposterous posture. "In celebration of how good you're doing. Leo and the other technicians were very impressed… and I'm just bursting with pride~"

The endoskeleton's lower eyelids, rudimentary as they were, tipped up as it carefully hugged the golden Glamrock's puffy facsimile to its metal ribcage. Hopping in place, they stamped over to the play corner—renewed vigor to keep "working" enhanced. Moon snickered and stepped fluidly over, pulling out the other materials left to this task. Including the extra-wide Chica. It peered fondly down at it, including the permanently-mangled eye. An unfortunate sacrifice on the path to teaching Friendo to respect and control his own strength—the be aware of himself, and especially of the rigid needles on his hands.

"Aha—you're ready, I see." Moon pushed a crate full of toys and books the happy endo's way, "Whatever you like, today~ Just come to me if you have a question."

"Buddy?"

"Hmm~?" Sun peered from directly overhead in order to face Leo as the cloud of disinfectants settled on its frame. It studied the man's features: The cinched-together brows, a lone zit being balled-up in the contact zone, and the creases of the triangular area about mouth and nose twitching up. Uncertainty. Suspicion. Worry? Taken aback in the cheerful morning preparations, the Daycare Attendant bent its knees slowly so that Leo could look into its broad disc of a face more easily.

"Can I…" A hand wandered up. Sun gave silent permit to the tech with a deeper tilt towards the reaching fingers. "Where did these come from?"

He was referring to the scrapes. The cuts into its bright yellow and beige paints had appeared a few nights ago; of course, Leo would notice on his first shift back after the weekend. Index and middle fingers traced the two parallel claw marks over the left cheek of the lunar façade until they met with the one which crossed over and ran more shallowly over to the edge of the right brow.

"Oho, hoo, uh—" Sun's faintly visible pupils—a gold-white against the bright yellowy glow—slid aside. "You know the three new Modular Endoskeletons that management had me start?"

Leo drew his hand back as if something had burned him.

"No," he sucked in a breath. "They scratched you? Wh-what—that's not supposed to—"

"Shh, shh!" Sun's huge palms enveloped Leo's, stopping him in his tracks, "It's not like that, I promise! I-It was an unfortunate accident!

"They're new—they… they're like children, Leo—" The looming solar corona pushed closer, the robot's nervous voice fighting to keep low and not be easily overheard. "Th-they're still clumsy, y'know? Still learning! Please, please, don't say anything to management about this..!"

Leo nodded, though winced as he realized his spine had practically been telescoped backwards from the over-seven-foot robot invading his personal space. He wriggled a hind free and ran a thumb over one of the deep slashes again. The Daycare Attendant suddenly recognized how few feet were left in its handler's personal bubble—as well as how pretzel-like his poor back was now—and twitched back upright, polymer fingertips clacking together.

"Oh, sorry, I'm sorry!" It's head spun upside down, "Got all worked up!"

"Me too, buddy." The technician smirked and shifted aside a Bonnie bobblehead to set down a cleaning rag. "Don't worry about the scratches. I'm not sayin' a word. We ought to find some time tonight to fix your paint, though. Scars don't really look right on you."

Sun approved with a nod; this would have to mean later—opening up the Daycare was far too fast approaching to possibly have the metal-coating paint dry. It would have to incorporate the damage into its interactions with the classes of little ones. Children had to learn such things, after all. Here was safest.