The weaker one. Dave's head tilted slightly, and his eyes landed on Jack. Or-'The Good Dave,' as Jack had now been calling him in his mind. Right as he was wondering where they went, he saw just the person he needed to find kicked back on the office desk, staring at the ceiling. He reappeared right where he left the last time-the office.
The floors were checkered tile, the walls gray, the rooms having the general layout of a Fazbender's (party rooms, kitchen, dining hall, etc.).
The inside of the Flipside looked just like an old location where he used to work. Without any more moments of hesitation, he slipped into the Flipside through the arcade screen, feet softly hitting the floor tiles on the other side. There was nothing to push him back through the glass, nothing to prevent him from entering. He was told the only reason he was able to enter it at all was that he lacked a soul-he'd lost that long ago. His workshop contained much of what you'd expect to be in one tools, scrap metal, handbooks, objects-but what was the spotlight of the room was the old arcade machine near the wall the entrance to the Flipside. He walked right past the door, instead opening the final one at the very end-his workshop. The next door was his room, but he didn't enter it until much later that night. "Next time, old friend," he muttered wistfully. The room used to be his brother's- Peter. He wished he'd remembered to bring a vase of flowers like he'd promised himself to do. He hesitated by it, gently placing a hand on the old wood, staining his fingers with dust. The first door upon entering was the one he never opened. Upstairs were three doors-one of which he always kept locked.
Standing up to his full height, he began to head upstairs, not hesitating to look out the window to see if he was being watched as he usually did. He tried to swallow down those thoughts-he had work to do. Once again, the feeling of not being welcome in the house filled Jack with a sense of foreboding. He patted his pockets- out of cigarettes, he thought bitterly. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and sat down against the wall. Jack unlocked his house's door, the quiet 'click' of the key being drowned out by the skies pouring out its guts. It felt like it'd been raining for days, now. Tiny note in the message to readers for y'all B)ĪLSO PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK MY CROPS ARE DYING Take a shot every time dave says old sport or some variation of it Tw: swearing, death mentioned/implied, His name gets said for the first time Fandom content: dayshift at freddy's (3, specifically)