MACHIAVELLIANISM - FNAF

THE HOUSE

Out of the two of you, Henry was the brave one. He was first to approach the front door, William standing directly in front of him, the height difference bigger than it usually is between them from William's raised floor. Despite Henry being right in front of him, he's still looking at you. You figure that he must be confused by your coming here, and about the concern in your voice when you asked him to open the door. Yet, there was a certain air about him that told you he was being smug, though nothing about his mannerisms could prove that, you just felt it.

Henry's hands twitched at his sides, fighting the urge to embrace William in a comforting hug, probably unsure on where they stand ever since they fought and William ignored him. Wordlessly, William retreated into his house, not bothering to check if the two of you followed. Of course you would.

Henry turned towards you with knotted brows, then glanced behind you towards the car. You realised this meant you'd have to bring Charlotte inside, so receiving the unspoken instruction you ushered Charlotte to your side.

"Do you know where Michael's room is?"

"His room is big." She answered, or more reminisced, but you'd take it.

"Could you go and catch up with him for a while? We need to discuss business stuff with Mr. Afton."

Charlotte gave an enthusiastic 'okay' and ran past Henry, clambering up the stairs excitedly with her book still tightly in her grasp.

With Charlotte out of sight, Henry visibly relaxed. It must be draining, you realized, having to put on a front all the time. You greatly admired Henry for that, he had never once let himself slip around his daughter. Henry nodded for you to catch up to him so you could walk down the hallway together. There was rustling in the living room, so the both of you assumed that was where William scurried off to.

Once inside, you shut the door behind you and turned towards the unfamiliar environment. You didn't know what to make of it. Before you was a complete mess, as if a tornado had recently toured the house. You could sense Henry's glancing, he was just as baffled as you, so you could safely assume this wasn't the usual state of the Afton household.

On the floor in front of you lay various pieces of paper, full of scrapped ideas and drawings that you could barely make out as anything recognizable. The only reason they hadn't flown out the door when William opened it was because they were held down by nuts and bolts as if they were paperweights. The wooden floor was in need of a thorough polish, though nothing could save it from the scratches and dents that you couldn't deduce the origin of, no matter how hard you tried to.

Henry's steps sounded out from the floorboard, it gave a loud cry which brought you away from your observations. Your eyes trailed up from his foot to his head, as if to just take in a sight that was familiar and made sense. Then you walked forward simultaneously, though your steps were more hesitant than his.

When you entered the living room, William was standing awkwardly and expectantly in the far corner. He was looking at you again, but this time he did sprinkle in some glances at Henry. He seemed more alert now, you could still tell he was drunk, but at least he sobered up slightly so that you could have this conversation.

"William," Henry's tone was slightly scolding, but he sounded relieved more than anything. "God, where have you been?" He took a seat as he spoke, not bothering to ask if he could make himself comfortable. You felt misplaced, about to have a personal and intimate conversation with your bosses in one of their houses. Maybe William noticed your timidity, or was just getting tired of watching you twiddle your thumbs in the corner, but he motioned for you to sit opposite them on the armchair. It did not help you shake off the feeling you were out of your depth here.