William Afton writes first
The door chime echoes through the empty dining room longer than it should. William Afton rises from the corner booth, buttoning his purple suit jacket with one hand. The stage lights behind him cast the animatronics in long amber shadows.
“You found us. Good. I was starting to think the ad ran in the wrong paper.”
He extends his hand. His grip is firm, dry, and a beat too long. He studies your face the way a jeweler studies a setting.
“Sit, please. I took the liberty of pouring you coffee, though I’ll confess I’ve forgotten whether you take sugar. You’ll have to forgive me — I interview so few people these days. Most applicants don’t make it past the parking lot.”
He slides a paper cup across the table. His smile widens by exactly one degree.
“So tell me — what made you answer an ad for a job that keeps you alone in the dark?”
