"Welp, now I know why Vanessa insists on doing foot patrols," Victor sighed as he swiped left on his ebook to turn the page.

It had started out as a slow night, and had only gotten slower as the minutes crawled by. The band had been able to take care of their own maintenance for the most part, really only needing him to confirm that they did a good job. Though they did have their own little requests and such, as per usual.

Chica asked more of her oddball questions, this time mostly about his car.

Freddy had finally started taking Victor's suggestions of venting his frustrations to someone rather than bottling it all up for the sake of politeness and professionalism. The bear told him about a birthday party that afternoon, where a particularly rude child, who wasn't the birthday boy, tried to monopolize his attention.

Monty had something stuck in one of his teeth and couldn't see it to get it out, which ended up being a sliver of wood. Victor suspected someone would soon find one of the wooden signs at the golf course with a chunk bitten out of it. Probably in the vicinity of a golf club turned into a steel pretzel.

And Roxy had almost roped him into a scheme to get Monty back for a prank he'd pulled on her almost a week ago. She felt like enough time had passed for him to think he was out of the woods, so it was the perfect time to strike. But Victor knew the consequences for taking a side during a prank war between two humans; he wanted nothing to do with one between sentient robots.

With the Band sorted out, Victor found himself with very little to do, and thus no reason to turn Vanessa down when she asked him to watch the monitors in the security office while she did her patrol. He'd found it quite amusing at first, watching the blonde take her job so seriously. She would walk around with her excessively powerful flashlight in her right hand, and her left never far away from the taser on her hip. She'd do her weird little 'creeper walk' when she got near a blind corner, like she thought someone was actually behind it, and that someone wouldn't be able to see her handheld spotlight from literally a mile off. Typical mall cop stuff, but Victor secretly thought it was kinda cute.

But then an hour rolled by. And another. Now it was nearly 4am and he was thinking of ways he could conceivably keep himself busy all night just so he'd never have to do this again.

Then, as he flipped the page again, even though he couldn't actually remember reading the one he was on, he heard the heavy, muffled footfalls of an animatronic. He nearly fell out of his chair when his animal brain suddenly screamed at him to hit the button and close the door.

"Hey, Vic?" Chica peered into the room with a very sheepish expression. "Are you…alone?"

"Uh, yeah…why?" Victor asked with narrowed eyes.

"I, uh, had a question and…" Chica's eyes shifted around nervously as she fully stepped into the office. "Well, it took forever just to work up the nerve to ask you, so I really don't want anyone else to hear."

'Oh boy…' Victor had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "What's up?" he sighed as it took a swig of his soda. It wasn't the shot of whiskey he felt like he was going to need, but it was all he had.

"What does sex feel like?"

Pain. Immediate pain and confusion as his poor sinuses were thoroughly carbonated. FizzyFaz spewed out of his nose and mouth, and somehow into his lungs simultaneously, prompting a coughing fit that lasted a solid minute.

The whole time Chica just stood there awkwardly, clearly torn between wanting to help him and not wanting to make things worse.

"Okay," Victor practically growled when he finally got himself under control, "where the HELL did that come from?!"

"Well, after the evening show I happened to be walking by the dining area and I heard someone say something. I didn't really pay attention to it at the time, but suddenly it just popped into my head! He said, 'The only thing better than pizza is sex', and I'm just…having a hard time wrapping my head around anything being better than pizza."

"What about performing on stage, or playing Charlie?"

"Don't you dare ask me to choose," Chica deadpanned.

"..."

"You have had sex, right?" Chica asked, trying to interpret Victor's silence. "I mean, it's alright if you haven't. A little weird, but maybe you're asexual? I think that's the right ter-"

"Chica!" Vic barked, silencing the bird. "Yes, I've had sex, but...what the fuck ?

"I'm sorry, it's just...I know what sex is ; I've seen it and it looks like fun, but...Roxy says they're all actors in the videos, so they must be faking it. Like those people in our commercials who say vegan pizza is as good as the real thing."

'Oh my God, the robots watch porn,' even as he thought the words, he could feel his very soul rebelling against the sentence and everything it implied.

"So I figured I'd just ask someone who knew and, well…" Chica trailed off and gestured vaguely at him.

He wanted to say no. He wanted to cut the whole thing off while it was still merely awkward and the lid on Pandora's Box was just barely cracked. But Victor knew that wouldn't be the end of it. Chica would never let it go. She would dwell on it, confide in her friends, get egged on by Monty and Roxy, and end up with a search history that would prompt a visit from Corporate. Or at least an email demanding an explanation.

This was a bullet he'd have to bite.

"Fine. I'll start by saying Roxy wasn't exactly wrong; they are actors and they do play it up for the camera. Usually, unless you and your partner are into that kind of thing, it's a quieter, less…acrobatic thing."

"So all the, y'know, 'Oh yeah, baby, harder!'"

" Jesus fucking Christ …" Victor wheezed as his hands flew up to his ears far too late to protect his fragile psyche.

"Sorry…"

"...No, most of that is fake. People only do that when they think it's what their partner wants to hear. More often than not, it's just distracting and can totally ruin the mood. Now that's not to say some noise isn't appreciated; lets you know you're making the right moves and a little encouragement never hurt anyone."

"I've had nightmares about performing in front of a totally dead crowd, so I imagine it's a bit of the same?"

"It can lead to some, uh, 'performance anxiety', yeah," Victor reached for his soda again as his mouth started to go dry.

"You never get that from eating pizza. Just sayin'," Chica remarked.

"You don't get orgasms, either," Victor replied before he could stop himself.

"It's a flood of chemicals and electrical impulses that make you feel really good. I may not have the chemical part, but I definitely get the impulses and feel really good. Sounds like the same thing to me."

'What is my life right now?' Victor thought, then shook his head and kept the crazy train moving. "If you wanna be clinical about it, sure. But a foodgasm could never be as intense as the real thing."

"Really?" Chica's dry tone and raised eyebrow told Victor she wasn't buying it.

"Has pizza ever made you lose control of your motor functions?"

"Of course not."

"Has pizza ever made you black out for a moment and forget how to talk?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Has pizza ever made you alright with dying? Like, if in that very moment a meteor struck the Earth and vaporized you, you'd have no regrets?"

"..."

"Have you ever been so desperate to cu-eat, that you would say and or do things that completely violate every moral code and personal value you have just for another slice?"

"..."

"...You're messing with me, aren't you?"

Through his entire rant Victor had deliberately avoided looking at Chica. If he didn't look, he could at least pretend that he wasn't extolling the virtues of orgasms to a goddamn robot chicken. But when he did finally glance at her, instead of a look of shock, horror and/or concern, he saw her hands clamped over her own beak while her shoulders shook.

"If I said no, would you keep going?" Chica strained to keep her voice steady and failed.

"Who put you up to this?" Victor demanded, feeling his face turning into a furnace and knowing his skin wasn't nearly dark enough to hide it. "Was it Monty?"

"I have n-no idea wh-what you're t-talking about…" the animatronic made a valiant effort to keep it together, but it was all for nothing as she burst out laughing.

"We're done here," Victor grunted before shooting up out of his seat and stomping out of the office, doing his best to tune out high-pitched guffaws behind him.

"Aw, come on, Vic! You were doing so good! Oohhh, don't stop now, baby; give it to me~! "

Apparently being a great singer in the upper register also lent itself to pitch perfect pornstar dialogue.

'Oh, I'll give you something alright,' Victor thought as he walked faster to escape the cackling hen. 'We'll see who's laughing when I'm done!'