Left4cheeseAgain: Quite indeed.
Thank you!
The god of kills: If you mean the last chapter: No, not yet. If you mean the last instalment in the FNIA series: Yes, most likely.
Chapter fourteen: Identified
Griffiths pensively leaned back in his chair, holding his phone at his ear. Douglas looked at him questioningly, uncertainty stirring within him. With this news…what was the manager going to do? He was a kind man, but if Douglas was the reason why the restaurant was being threatened…?
He became aware of Mangle's hand on his shoulder. It brought him a little comfort. He relaxed his leg. How long had that been twitching?
"I see," Griffiths said through the phone. "Yes, of course… So I've been told, yes… No, I'm afraid I cannot in good conscience do that… If so, perhaps we should take this conversation here. If you'll just pay us a visit, we can explain everything…" He sighed quietly. "I see. But there must be a way to come to some understanding… I see. Very well, I'll tell him. Have a good day."
He hung up. Douglas looked to him expectantly.
"You were right," Griffiths said, straightening his back. "And he's quite determined to see this through."
Douglas sighed. "What do we do?"
"I think our best course of action is for you to talk to him directly."
Douglas started. "Me?"
Griffiths raised an eyebrow. "Of course. You're his son. You're the reason he hired this detective in the first place. If anyone could put his mind at ease…"
"I…don't think that's going to work."
"Nevertheless, it's our best chance."
A silence fell. Douglas looked down. Talking to his Dad? Last time they spoke, they didn't exactly part on a good note. Hiring Mortar was extreme even for his father, but knowing Nicholas Goodwin, he wasn't going to stop until either he found out the truth or Douglas quit his job. Or both.
"There's another way."
Mildly surprised, Douglas turned to Mangle. The she-fox stole a glance from him.
Griffiths leaned back in his seat. "Alright," he said softly. "You've got our attention, Mangle."
She gave him a glance. "What if…we tell him? I mean, what if we tell the detective about…us?"
She fell silent. Douglas shared a glance with his boss.
"I doubt he'll take the news…well," Griffiths finally said.
"I doubt he'll believe us," Douglas said quietly.
"But…w-we can prove it," Mangle pressed. "We can bring him here!"
"I see your point, Mangle, but I simply don't think it'll work," Griffiths patiently explained. "At best, he'll laugh at our claims. At worst… I don't believe I even want to think about that."
Mangle glanced down, nodding silently. Douglas grimaced a little at her disappointed posture.
"I don't suppose Nicholas would be any different?" Griffiths said.
"He won't believe us either," Douglas said. He honestly doubted there was anything that could change Nicholas Goodwin's mind, not on this…but maybe Douglas could get him to stop, if he played his cards right. "I…will talk to him today."
Foxy watched from her cove as some human employees brought a set of boxes into the restaurant. Human-sized boxes. No, taller; slightly taller than Douglas, even.
She realized she'd clenched a fist, but didn't relax it. Why would she? She was a robot, after all. They all were.
Mangle had since told her that Douglas' father was behind Mortar's investigation. At first, Foxy had been shocked and angry, but later she'd begun to think. Maybe Nicholas was right in some way. What did it take for someone to make friends with robots? No—what did it take for someone to believe they were sentient in the first place? They were—she knew that—but how did he? Why did he believe it?
Because he was desperate.
Oh, Doug, she thought grimly as she watched the last of the boxes being moved into the corridor to where Parts and Service was situated. You'd be better off in that college o' yours. Ye're too smart a guy to watch some restaurant.
A short chapter and no excuse. You love to see it.
Currently working on some other projects as well. Sometimes I forget I still need to get this story out.