Michael sat behind the glass prize counter among all the cheap plushies and small toys. He tried his hardest to forget he was in a Fazbear owned building at all, but it wasn’t easy. Every time he managed to dissociate the sound of screaming children and birthday songs would bring him right back.

It wasn’t all bad. At least he was helping his father out by working at his establishment. Plus, he didn’t have to talk to people all that much at the prize counter. Or so he thought.