Come to me, Sweet Child

Chapter 3: Getting Started

Michael rubs at his face, checking the time through tired eyes.  Seeing that it was already one in the afternoon, Michael runs a hand through his hair and leans back to stare up at the ceiling.  He begins to spin in his chair, going left before pausing and going to the right.

It had been three painfully long and boring hours since Michael had talked to Henry and he still can't figure out why the older man acted in such a way towards him. Michael goes over every single thing he has done that could've cause the strange communication. 

'Was it the hug...' Michael stops spinning. 'Oh my god was it the hug... Was the hug too much?'

Michael shakes his head, trying to get rid of his newfound embarrassment. He couldn't help it, how else was he supposed to act seeing Uncle Henry again after so many years? Like that was totally normal?  Maybe, if shit didn't hit the fan with Fazbear Entertain- actually no, it wouldn't make sense either to just act normal even if all those things didn't happen.  Hmm, maybe if Henry was on the run from someone it would...

Michael blinks, trying to retrace where he was even going with that thought. Failing to do so, he shrugs it off and gets back to work with a sigh. Michael was going to be doing this for another hour or so before he had to go back out and set everything up that he order. 

~~~~~~~~~

Michael opens the doors to his restaurant, allowing the workers to come and place the boxes of stuff ordered inside.

"A-alright that should be it, c-could you sign here please?"

The worker hands Michael a clipboard with an information sheet on it.  The man's co-worker nudges him in the side, telling him to get a grip on himself, (even though she was was practically about to piss herself from the sight of Michael).

Michael signs the paper and hands it back to the worker, who flinches upon making eye contact before quickly turning on his heel and leaving.

"I kid you not Dale, I almost a shit myself on the spot..I hope we never deliver to him again."

"Shut up, we aren't even out of earshot yet." The lady whisper yells to her co-worker.

Michael rolls his eyes and scoffs before he slides his sleeves back and starts unboxing the items. Everything was simple; a couple of plates, party cups, napkins, tables, sound system, gum ball machine, things for the kitchen and staff- just the basics that Michael could afford.

"We definitely gotta do something about your face."

Michael jumps at the sound of Henry, dropping his wrench onto his foot.

"So, how's it coming along Mike?"

The purple toned man's eye twitches as he smiles, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the other from his spot on the ground.

"Things are coming along just fine, Mr.Emily...thanks for asking."

Henry flashes a smile to Michael before continuing on, "As this place, and franchise, never fails to bring in customers every single day and becomes popular, things will be getting more and more dangerous."

"I'm very much so aware of that." Michael mumbles as he picks up his wrench, and rubs the place where a dull sensation of pain lingers.

Henry looks the man on the ground over, a look of amusement floods his face.

"Say...where'd you get that wig, Michael?"

Not expecting that to be the next few words out of his mouth, Michael hesitates in responding.

"...party city."

Suddenly, laughter like thunder is heard throughout the restaurant.  Henry slaps his knees as tears fall down his face.  Michael, who couldn't understand what was so funny, just turned to look at the ginger haired man.