Chica pulls you into her dressing room with the same enthusiasm as a child showing off a new toy. "This is where magic happens!" She exclaims happily, barely able to stretch both her arms out in the cramped room.
A large wardrobe that had definitely seen better days stood in the far left, covered with cupcake stickers and glow in the dark stars, and this is what took up most of the already limited space. A thing dressing table also took up space and was pressed against the adjoining wall. It was dominated by a large, round vanity mirror that was surrounded by various make up items-some you didn't even know what they were used for. "Huh, it sure is cosy," You comment a little sarcastically.
"Chica I youngest and last to join," She shrugs, "Maybe Mr. Fazbear will get me more space if I work hard enough."
Almost immediately after she's finished speaking she starts removing her clothes. "Wha-hey?!" You say and cover your eyes in embarrassment.
"Come, you grown up," Chica replies, still removing her clothes.
Your ears hear her shirt hit the floor. You turn a deeper shade of red.
"Get Chica's costume."
Blindly, you shimmy around the presumably topless Chica to reach the wardrobe. Peaking your eyes open so you can grab the wobbly handles and pull the stiff doors open. A gold and copper hue surrounded by a multitude of coloured feathers springs out at you. "W-Which one's the top?" You shout over your shoulder feeling the burning embarrassment on your face.
"Gold straps," Chica answers as there is a soft thump of another item of clothing hitting the floor.
The top (which you can barely find the strap of) is ridiculously tangled. It takes several moments of trying to solve this almost Professor Layton-style puzzle before the item it free. "Here." You say sharply, holding out the bikini-like top for Chica to grab.
You hear a giggle as she takes the top from you. "It's not funny." You snap with a slight sulk and attempt to make sense of the feathered bottoms.
"Get decent already!" You demand, thrusting the pants at her with a stifled laugh.
Chica relieves you of the bottoms and then says, "Ready!...I think."
You turn to see her in a bikini-like outfit. The gold straps that criss-cross her chest sparkle with scattered glitter woven into the fabric with metallic copper covering the necessary parts. The bottoms were exactly the same though a thick band of gold stretched across her wide hips. Tall feathers stood up to her shoulders in an array of rainbow colours much like a peacocks. "What do you think?" She asked sheepishly though she strikes a confident pose.
"I think your feathers are tucked into your bottoms," You observe, sending Chica into a spin as she tries to spot which ones are stuck. Gently you reach out and stop her spinning. "Let me help," You sigh, pulling out the trapped feathers.
"Oh this always happen," She sighs back, "Usually Bonnie or Mr. Foxy helps me out."
Just barely you stop yourself from shuddering as you pull out the long feathers. Taking a step back with hands on your hips, you properly admire her costume. "It's certainly very dramatic," You smile, "But won't the feathers catch fire easily? I'm surprised they haven't before now."
"They have," Chica waves her hand dismissively, chuckling at the shocked look on your face, "Usually I is careful but sometimes fire jumps onto them. Is no big deal."
As she talks, you notice a large, vivid scar across her abdomen. Wisely, you say nothing about it. "Now for make-ups," She continues excitedly, attempting to locate the bottles on the dresser. "You can put foundation on Chica but Chica does not trust you to put on eyeshadows and mascara."
Placing the foundation bottle and sponges in your hands, Chica sits down on a squat stool that was hidden under the dresser. "Put on thickly please," She instructs, lifting up her face so you can cover it in foundation easily. You oblige, not feeling too confident abou putting make up on someone else.
"Is that okay?" You ask after covering her face in lots of layers.
"Perfect. Now put some on my tummy." She leans back slightly to let you see it properly.
"On the s-mark?"
"Mhm."
Quietly, you dab at the scar-it obviously needs several layers and you voice that to Chica.
"Yeah that's normal for it." She nods, "I got it from a two more operation."
"A what?" You ask.
"Two more operation."
Confused, you stop to take a minute to think about what on earth she could mean. "Two more…" You repeat quietly before it clicks, "You mean a tumor?"
"Yes!" Chica says in realisation, "That is it. Woops. Is no wonder people get confused by what I mean." She gives a half embarrassed smile. "But I had a tumor"-She stresses the correct pronunciation-"in my stomach. Then I grew one in my test teens." -You assume she means intestines.-"And I got very poorly. I had medicine to make my hair fall out and felt miserable and slept a lot. But…it still got to my brain."
Chica gives a grimace at the memory as you continue to dab foundation on. "After lots of medicine the tumors shrank and Doctor got them out. Though I didn't have much of a stomach or test teens anymore."
"So what did they do?" You ask with a concerned tone.
"They made me a new stomach and test teens of course," She says gleefully, "Now I just have a cool scar on my tummy and head." Chica points to the random tuft of hair that stuck out of place constantly.
"It is a cool scar," You compliment to which Chica gives a cute smile. "But you'd better get the rest of your make up on. The show will be starting soon."
"Oh but I do enjoy talking to you Newbie," She sighs, moving to apply the rest of her make up. "Will you get my torches for me? They are stored behind the entrance way curtains next to Mr. Fazbear's dressing room. You can't miss them. They're just big sticks."
With a nod, you push aside the curtains of the dressing room to exit. Across the room, a thin slit is twitching in the opposite dressing room. A pair of staring yellow eyes watch you from the faintly lit room. Making a noise that was somewhere between disgust and a growl, you ignore the watcher and head to the curtains as instructed. You look for the torches in the dim light and hope that they are near so you can just grab them. Unfortunately they are not. They seem to almost mock you from across the space. Nervously you proceed to step along the barely visible path among the rest of the clutter that dominates the area. A couple of times your body accidentally knocks something unseen and you freeze with the hope that the sound of something smashing does not follow. One time that happens. You pretend not to have heard it. With several near tumbles and trips you finally reach the items you need. It takes some stretching and reaching before they finally are in your grasp. Turning around, you let out a whine about having to return through the hazard-filled area. Suddenly, you freeze at an unwelcome yet familiar sound. Ragged breathing from an open mouth creeps its way through the darkness. Your eyes widen. The sound comes closer to the gap where you entered. A shadow creeps across the open curtain. Your heart seems to stop with anticipation. It's almost like he's thinking of coming in after you. You can't run through here without falling after all. You'd be easy prey.
When all sounds and sights seem to have gone after several long minutes have passed, you tentatively proceed back. Once at the gap you pull it across and come face to face with Foxy. 'Had he been waiting for me the entire time?' You think jumping back with a fist raised slightly.
"Harr, harr, I be sorry whelp," Foxy apologises with a sheepish grin (or as close as his mangled face could manage), "All I be seeming to do is scare yeh."
You say nothing.
"And I guess that I be sorry for scaring you last night too…sometimes I get a wee bit restless at night so I-"
"Stop." You say forcefully, a sudden anger rising in you.
Foxy seems taken aback, his mouth hanging open mid-explanation. There seems upset in his old yet young face yet you continue.
"First you creep me out when I first got here-mumbling and watching me from the shadows," You begin ranting.
"But I-" The ragged man attempts to speak.
"No! You listen!" You demand and continue, "You were outside my tent all last night and now you're hanging about here-not making it clear that you wanted to speak to me. Not trying to catch my attention-instead you jump out at me full of these bullshit apologise rather than stopping being a creepy jerk!"
"I just be-" Foxy attempts again.
"If you think I am going to put up with this for four more nights you've got another thing coming!" You finish with a threatening glare.
"I just be…I-just-be," Foxy repeats, his voice growing more and more distressed as he tries to grasp onto his explanations.
A part of you felt sorry for him yet you stood firm.
"I-just-be…" He continued to say, the distress growing more and bringing twitches with it.
Now you begin to worry and take a step back, raising your almost shaking hands. "Look, dude, I'm sorry I lost my temper," You hastily apologise, a sense of dread growing in your stomach, "I just had a rough night and it's a strange place and you just spooked me."
The dishevelled man is quiet now. This is even more worrying. He is staring both at you and through you at the same time. His lips scarcely move as he whispers something. The skin prickles on the back of your neck as you strain to hear it. "Not my fault…didn't do it…," You catch his voice, but you don't think he's talking about the incident that just happened. "Didn't do it…wasn't me…"
Foxy's eyes focus on you now. The yellow circles have a dangerous glint to them and his tics seem to be becoming increasingly frequent.
"Never accept me," He growled loudly and you realise a moment too late that his hooked hand is raised to strike.
With a loud scream you throw out your arms to block the blow. The a yellow haired, feathered blur knocks into him so that Foxy is away from you. Chica is cupping Foxy's face with both hands. Her face is now covered with heavy and dramatic gold and black make up with huge false eyelashes. "Please Mr. Foxy," She speaks in a hushed tone, "Not this. Not now."
The much taller man seems frozen in shock. His entire body is trembling with the desire to lash out fighting with the need to not harm his friend. Meanwhile, Chica is holding his gaze without flinching. "Come back to me now," She gently pleads.
Reluctantly, Foxy arm drops and even he seems to sag too. "I-I not be feelin' right," He pants for breath as he calms.
"Hush now," Chica consoles him, brushing the hair from his face much like a mother would, "You should go rest up."
With a slow nod, Foxy allows himself to be escorted to his dark dressing room. You hear Chica lay him down and encourage him to rest before she re-emerges. A worried look is upon her face. "Is he-?" You dare to ask but stop at the cold glare she gives you.
"Mr. Foxy has been through a lot, Newbie," She says as quietly and as harshly as she can, "Acting like that makes him worse. He cannot help it. He's ill."
You flinch at her disappointment in you.
To make things worse, Frederick emerges through the opening. "Are we all okay?" He asks amiably before looking at the two of you. "What happened?"
"Ask Newbie," Huffs Chica, approaching you and snatching her torches from your hand and storming into her own dressing room.
You feel Frederick's gaze upon you and barely dare to meet his eyes. Upon his moustached face is a look of irritation and anger. "You'd better come into my dressing room and we'll have a talk." He says, indicating to his dressing room.