HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

And still she smiles kind and polite as she gently takes the requested butter knife from his hand with her only free one.

“Thank you kindly, normally I do this magic trick with a pair of scissors ….but in theory it should still-.”

Her focus is on her leg, carefully sliding the thin metal into a gap on the brace and wiggling it around till she can make out the sound of a click. It takes a second of wiggling but then, jackpot. The second she hears the sound, Lavinia finally moves her hand that had been holding the lock and works on peeling the brace off with a practiced speed that not even the best of the costume performers had. Laying it against the bed she was sat on once it was safely removed . 

Her face feels a bit….warm. Embarrassment quick to set in, doing her best to cover up her scars once more with her pant leg and not hiding her wince very well. She can feel eyes on her and her shoulders shrink just a little because while Lavinia is on the shorter side….she feels….oh so painfully familiarly small all of the sudden. She’s about to apologize for something she had no real control over, or apologize for ruining what was a nice morning, but the words get caught and his question cuts off whatever she would have said anyway. 

“H-Huh?”

A blink of confusion, grey eyes quickly scanning him for some missed burn or cut from the kitchen. Wait? Wait he’s asking because of-.

“It’s f-fine, really. Nothin’-.”

A frustrated sound, running a hand through her blonde curls because she has a feeling….no she can just tell this isn’t going to get dropped.

“....second door on the left in the hall, behind the bathroom mirror. Green box with a sunflower sticker on it. “

[Dexter didn't have a weak stomach. His stomach didn't curdle at crime scenes, no matter how gory ( if anything, a killer's gory creativity tended to fascinate instead of disturb him ). The one and only time he'd cracked was when he was called to a crime scene -- a hotel room -- that was covered, wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, in blood. No victims in sight, just...blood. It clung to every surface, clung to him. The air was thick with its metallic scent. That was when he'd first seen the boy -- a boy drenched in his mother's blood, wailing, terrified and alone. At the time, he'd wanted nothing more than to will the image away. It made him feel powerless, suffocated.]

[He could put it into words now. It was how he -- or rather, his dark passenger -- had been born. Made to witness their mother's gruesome death and sit in her blood for days, anyone would become a monster. It made monsters out of himself and his brother. Separated, but subjugated to the same fate. Dexter was lucky he had Harry to sort him out. His brother hadn't been so lucky.]

[All of that said...this moment right here, right now, evoked the same feelings that the little boy did. Powerlessness. He watched helplessly as Lavinia wedged the butter knife between her skin and the springlock, her movements expert and practiced. She'd done this before. Hell, she'd even admitted that she usually performed this "trick" with scissors. The scarred tissue beneath the brace suggested years, years, of trial and error with this brace alone. Countless puncture wounds pocked and obfuscated her original scar, presumably the one that left her reliant on this godforsaken contraption.]

[Years. Years.]

[Dexter knew there wasn't much a first aid kit would do, not at this point. There weren't any fresh wounds to treat. The scars had healed. Maybe he'd only been using it as an excuse -- something that would give him a minute alone to recuperate.]

[He closed the door of the bathroom behind him and simply leaned against the door for a minute. Instead of fear, he found himself shaking with anger. He stood and started to pace, trying to stifle the bubbling rage before it could escape...but he couldn't.]

[Dexter screamed, hateful, bloodthirsty. The more he tried to muffle it, the louder it got. He slammed his hands against the disgustingly gorgeous, marbled sink, once, then twice, then thrice. The third time finally pained his hands enough for him to stop, and he stood over the sink, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. Was he done? Could he finally breathe now?]

[He ran the sink and splashed water onto his face, warm with anger and now embarrassment. God, he hoped Lavinia hadn't heard him. There wasn't much space between the bathroom and her bedroom. Fuck. She'd know now. She'd heard the beast inside of him. Unfortunate as it was, he and Afton were of the same breed...they were both monsters. Afton was worse, objectively, but Dexter wasn't much better. A killer, born in blood, without feelings or remorse. That was him. He'd been deluding himself by spending time with Lavinia, with her kids...and he'd been deluding them, too.]

[Dexter turned off the faucet, ran his hands over his face, then finally opened the mirror and took the kit. He ran a thumb over the sunflower sticker, an innocent insignia of the woman who'd prepared it. Kit in his hands, he shamefully left the bathroom and tried to think up ways he could explain the noise. Maybe he just shouldn't mention it at all.]

[Once Dexter entered the room again, his expression was markedly defeated and downtrodden. He looked at her, then back down with the shame of a misbehaving dog. She'd covered her scars with her pant leg. He'd been hesitant to speak again, but now he had to.]

❝ Is it okay if I take a look? ❞ [He asked hoarsely, still not meeting her eyes. He held up the first-aid kit, as though it wasn't clear what he was referring to. He cleared his throat and spoke in his "human" voice, though the casual tone clashed with his current demeanor.] ❝ I'm no doctor, obviously, but I know what to look for. I just want to make sure that nothing's broken or infected. That leg brace is... ❞

[His timid look became a scowl for the briefest of moments.] ❝ ...If anything, it's making things worse. ❞ [But surely, that was no secret. William was likely the one putting pressure on her to keep wearing it. He took a breath, then continued.]

a collection of quotes from llamas with hats (because i think it's criminal that this hasn't been done). feel free to change pronouns, names, the various atrocities, etc!

(tw for gore, murder, and crimes against humanity)

❝ I do not kill people. That is...that is my least favorite thing to do. ❞

❝ [Naaaaame], that KILLS people!! ❞ / ❝ Oh! Well, I didn't know that!! ❞

❝ [Naaaaame], what did you do!? ❞

❝ [Name]! There is a dead human in our house! ❞

❝ Oh...hey...how did he get here? ❞

❝ Me? Uh, I didn't do this. ❞

❝ Explain what happened, [Name]! ❞

❝ I've never seen him before in my life! ❞

❝ Why did you kill this person, [Name]? ❞

❝ Tell me, [Name], exactly what you were doing before I came home. ❞

❝ Alright, well...I was upstairs...I was...uh...sitting in my room...reading a book...and, uh, this guy walked in...so I went up to him, and I...I stabbed him 37 times in the chest. ❞

❝ Yeah, I'm in the wrong here. I suck. ❞

❝ What happened to his hands? Why are they missing? ❞

❝ Well, I kind of...um...cooked them up. And ate them. ❞

❝ Well, I-I was hungry. And well, you know, when you crave hands... ❞

❝ I was hungry for hands! Give me a break! ❞

❝ My stomach was making the rumblies that only hands would satisfy! ❞

❝ What is wrong with you, [Name]!? ❞

❝ Well, I kill people, and I eat hands. That's two things. ❞

❝ You sunk an entire cruise ship, [Name]! ❞

❝ Are you sure that was me? I would think I'd remember something like that. ❞

❝ That sounds dangerous. ❞

❝ That, uh...that must have been horrifying to watch. ❞

❝ Would you believe it's [strawberry milkshake / melted gumdrops / boat nectar / some of God's tears]? ❞

❝ No! I would not believe that! ❞

❝ Tell me the truth, [Name]. ❞

❝ I can't believe what I'm hearing! ❞

❝ I will not apologize for art. ❞

❝ Whoa! You won the prize, I didn't even notice that. ❞

❝ Looking at the trajectory of the moon and the sun...[it's] probably at the bottom of the ocean. ❞

❝ I have a problem. A serious problem. ❞

❝ You are just terrible today! ❞

❝ Shhh. Do you hear that? It's the sound of forgiveness. ❞

❝ That's what forgiveness sounds like: screaming and then silence. ❞

❝ [Name], we're supposed to be on vacation. ❞

❝ I don't know about you, but I'm having a lovely time here. ❞

❝ The people have spoken! Viva la resistance! ❞

❝ He was a traitor and a scoundrel. ❞

❝ That was a foot. I appear to have swallowed an entire person. ❞

❝ That was horrifying, [Name]. Your mouth unhinged like a snake. ❞

❝ Wow, that sounds pretty awesome. ❞

❝ I can't go anywhere with you, [Name]. ❞

❝ That hurt my feelings. Now we're both in the wrong. ❞

❝ I want to go home. I'm leaving. ❞

❝ In that case, I should probably mention that all our luggage is filled with orphan meat. I'm building a meat dragon, and not just any meat will do. ❞

❝ You know what? Forget it. I'm not even shocked anymore. ❞ / ❝ Oh, that's no fun. ❞

❝ This has become the norm for you, [Name]. ❞

❝ I'll have to try harder next time. ❞ / ❝ Please don't. ❞

❝ It's too late now, you...I totally don't remember your name. ❞

❝ We've known each other for three years, [Name]. ❞ / ❝ And what an impression you've made. ❞

❝ Oh. I thought you were a woman. ❞

❝ Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some pictures to delete from my computer. ❞

❝ [Name], you tracked mud all over the carpet! ❞

❝ Now that right there is a mess. ❞

❝ I'm not responsible for this. I've been jamming on the saxophone all morning. ❞

❝ Clue number one: the impostor is a phantom. ❞

❝ Please tell me you had nothing to do with this. ❞

❝ You've gone too far this time, [Name]. ❞

❝ What's that? It's hard to hear you over the sound of melting city. ❞

❝ How did you even do this? ❞ / ❝ A dollop of fairy dust. ❞

❝ This isn't funny, [Name]! ❞

❝ I'm leaving. I've had enough of this. ❞

❝ Think of all the perfectly-roasted faces we get to munch on now. ❞

❝ We're friends, and friendship is two pals munching on a well-cooked face together. ❞

❝ That isn't friendship, [Name]. You're sick. ❞

❝ Well, then you're probably not gonna like your birthday decoration. ❞

❝ I'm sorry. I thought you liked faces. Obviously, there's been a miscommunication. ❞

❝ This is awful, [Name]. ❞

❝ It's not nearly as tasteful as I pictured in my head. ❞

❝ I think I'm gonna throw up. ❞

❝ Oh, God! It touched me!! ❞

❝ This was clearly the wrong way to go. ❞

❝ What can I say? I expected them to be more cooked. Raw face is just gross. ❞

❝ That isn't the problem, [Name]. ❞

❝ Why did you think any of this was a good idea? ❞

❝ I'm a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence. I don't understand how you keep forgetting that. ❞

Send me 📌 and a character name or a ship and I'll make an aesthetic board for them!

“But noooow it isn't true Now everythin' is neeeeew And all I've learned has overturned I beg of yooooooooouuu  Don't go wastin' your emooootion Laaaaay all your loooove on me “

Now while Lavinia's parents had practically drilled most of the performing arts into her, strangely singing was the one thing that hadn’t really been touched upon. Maybe because they had counted on ballet working out for their dreams of raising big star, more like a falling star. Singing came from some place natural, some place that while she no longer could danc...Lavinia still really genuinely loved music itself. And while it was not taught, they did drill into her how to work a performance though.

Always a natural, almost like knowing how to breath. 

" It was like shootin' a sitting duck A little small talk, a smile, and, baby, I was stuck I still don't know what you've done with me A grown-up woman should never fall so easily"

It helped sometimes to focus on one singular person in the crowd. A face watching you with baited breath, that will still look at you like that even when you screw up. She didn’t have many folks in those early days but having Henry, his wife, and William helped the few small shows they could attend before her accident. For a few moments her eyes did lock on the friendly face keeping her purse safe…why she chose him out of the crowd is a question to ask herself when she’s not belting out an ABBA hit. Though for this next part she closes her eyes and puts her hand on her chest, knowing the kind of note she’s going to need to hit.

"I feel a kind of fear When I don't have you near Unsatisfied, I skip my pride I beg you, deeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar."

[The more Dexter watched, the more aware he became of an objective truth: Lavinia was captivating. He took comfort in the knowledge that it wasn't just him who was fascinated, it was the whole crowd -- suddenly, it was clear why they'd rushed her to the stage. She had effectively transformed a shabby karaoke bar into a thrilling concert venue. All eyes were on her. Even the exhausted staff couldn't help but spare a glance. Her stage presence was overwhelming...so him being utterly entranced by her performance was normal. This was nothing to worry himself over.]

[That is, of course, until he saw her looking back. Something about that struck him, especially because of the material she was working with...a song that encouraged emotion, that depicted someone falling in love. Falling in love. What a concept.]

[Still, when Lav looked at him...when all eyes were on her, but her eyes were on him...when she belted out these lyrics, lyrics about falling for someone, lyrics that acted a plea for someone to proclaim their love, out of all the others she could have chosen...it made something stir within him. He didn't know what it was. He'd never heard a song that prompted an emotional response from him -- after all, he was devoid of feelings. So why now?]

[Dexter, now too sheepish to return Lavinia's gaze, looked down at the only excuse he had -- the bottle of beer in his hand. He wasn't necessarily a lightweight, but he didn't drink much. Most of the time, he reserved his alcohol for his Dinner Ritual with Deb: eating steak and drinking beer. That was their staple. He was used to her getting shitfaced, not him. Never him. He feared the person he would become if he were to overconsume. He feared dropping his mask -- after all, "don't get caught" was the first rule of Harry's code.]

[In Dexter's mind, it made perfect sense that these butterflies, the warmth, and these jitters were the result of drinking. He'd had too much ( at a whopping two bottles ). There was no other reason for him to be feeling...hah, feeling...this way.]

[Regardless of what it was, as dazzling as Lavinia was onstage, as much as he wanted to continue watching her...he shouldn't be here right now. He couldn't be here right now. It was all too much. He stood, quietly hoping that she was no longer looking his way, and took a step forward...then remembered that he was supposed to be watching her purse. An internal struggle commenced, and eventually, he uncharacteristically decided that he'd rather stay than betray her trust. The rational thing to do was to dig for his keys and leave. But for some reason, he wasn't acting rationally. No -- there was a reason, and it was why he needed to get out of here.]

[It was decided; he wouldn't retrieve his keys nor leave, but he'd at least secure her bag while he stepped out of the bar. He hefted the strap over his shoulder, like one of his forensic kits, then walked outside. The fresh air would help. He just needed to get away. That was all this was. He would head back inside once he could breathe again...]

At least she had her own trusted pots and pans, the light green coloring making it quite evident who was the one to buy them.

“Oh!” fair he might not want her to see the recipe. “ I’ll be upstairs then if you need me,need to do just one thing right quick. Just give a shout if you need me.” she nods

Lavinia leaves the kitchen to head back to one of the more annoying features of the house, stairs. Carefully making her way up and to the hall, door on the left in the hall and she’s finally in the bedroom.

A small sigh as she sits down on the bed next to her nightstand and rummages for the small crank. Once it’s acquired she rolls up her pant leg to get to work removing the damn brace, more a blank animatronic casing then a proper brace but she’s had that argument with Will already. Just got to be careful..just got to…why did have have to make this thing with so many damn springlocks.

Click.

Click.

Okay upper springlocks done, carefully letting her pant leg move down a little as she works.

Click

Click

Middle locks done, good it would utterly suck for her knee to get springlocked. Alright bottom locks are all that's left.

Click

And, and-

“Shit.” is softly muttered as a sound , unsure of its cause, startles her into dropping the crank

Dropping it much too close to the last lock, quick thinking hands grab at the bolt that rests somewhere between her ankle and the Achilles tendon. She can feel it shake under her fingers, but the important thing is not to panic. Keeping one hand on the bolt she does her best to try and reach in her nightstand for a pair of scissors to wedge the blade in there to keep the locks from-.....where’s her scissors?.........Shit.

[Funny how a man who'd ( presumably ) built Fazbear's iconic animatronics didn't even have a functional coffee-maker. Lavinia employed the age-old strategy of smacking something until it works, and thankfully, it did. Dexter still questioned how well it would brew coffee if it couldn't even stay on...but he wasn't here for the coffee. He'd survive.]

[Lavinia kindly indulged in Dexter's need for privacy, excusing herself to do something...the word "upstairs" caught his attention, and he noticeably glanced at her leg and her cane. She was competent enough to climb the stairs, he knew that. But...]

❝ Me too. Don't hesitate to give me a shout. ❞ [He goofily saluted with his spatula, but hopefully his actual offer had been heard. He saw her safety as more of a priority than snooping around the house...which baffled him, now that he thought about it. He was supposed to be hunting William, but here he was, spending his leisure time with the man's wife.]

[What was happening to him?]

[Once Lavinia left him to his own devices, he got started on the pancakes. Dexter had been trained to take his time when prepping the batter, but considering that his family made it from scratch, he had to take his time anyway. He couldn't deviate from Harry's code, and he couldn't deviate from Harry's recipe.]

[It wasn't long after the first pancake hit the pan that he heard Lavinia cry out. Dexter hurriedly turned off the burner and grabbed a butter knife, as requested...but the absurdity of her request only hit him after he was halfway up the stairs.]

[Why would Lavinia need a butter knife to take her leg brace off? There was no way in Hell that that was normal. He quickened his pace, his mind spewing worry after worry until he finally reached her room. When he saw how calm Lav was, he approached her casually, like he hadn't just bolted up here to help her.]

[He held out the butter knife for her, but his gaze was inevitably drawn to the contraption on her leg.]

[His expression fell, haunted by the sight. Now that he could see the inner workings of the damned thing, he was appalled. Springlocks. Dexter had familiarized himself with this particular "invention" of Afton's, and in doing so, he'd learned how dangerous -- even fatal -- they were. God, and he'd incorporated that fucking hazard into his wife's leg brace? What the fuck!? What kind of husband, what kind of father -- what kind of human being could subject the ones he was supposed to love to this sort of agony??]

[If it hadn't been decided yet, it was decided now: Afton was a monster. Quite possibly the worst he'd ever seen.]

[...God, how he craved for Afton to be on his table, vulnerable, terrified, knowing his time was up. He could so vividly picture himself clamping Afton's patented death trap onto his extremities, hearing him howl in pain...fuck, he'd do anything right now to make that fantasy real. His hands trembled into fists, and his eyes flared with seething hatred. For a moment, just a moment, his dark passenger had taken the wheel -- but Dexter took it back just as quickly. Now wasn't the time. He couldn't leave Lavinia like this.]

[Once the brace was off, Dexter felt just enough relief to look normal. His voice hadn't quite reached that point yet, though, so his follow-up question was tonally confused. Calm, but forceful; monotonous, but emotional. He tried to hide the anger, the horror, but he couldn't quite nail it.]

Slowly, but with what looks to be a small amount of new found bravery, he nods.

“It w-w-w-was….last t-time Mikey locked me in t-the back. He forgot I was in th-there and th-the diner closed for th-the day.”

He can almost faintly feel his fingers and shoulder aching again , the clawing and throwing himself at the door begging and sobbing to be let out. He closes his eyes for a moment to try and remember more clearly.

“It smelled…reeeeeeeeeeally b-bad in th-there, and I was scared. I r-remember i saw ....Fredbear, but he was all slumped over like he was sl-sleeping. He had long st-stuff coming out from his m-mouth, long and-.”

He opens his eyes once he realizes his face is once again wet, he hadn’t even realized he had started crying again while remembering. The small boy practically shrinks into himself more with the ball he’s curled into. A wince thanks to his burnt little knees.

“F-Father said th-that it was wires when he found me in th-there, but….b-b-but just cause I st-stutter somet-times doesn't mean i’m....st-stupid. It was all l-long and cur-rly just like mama and L-Lizzie’s hair. Wires don’t look l-like that. “

The death grip on Fred has returned and he goes back to a place of safety of burying his face in the familiar yellow fabric. 

[Fortunately, Evan chose to confide in him; unfortunately, the memories it dredged up made Dexter's nonexistent heart ache. The fact that Evan had been locked up enough that he needed to specify when spoke volumes. Dexter repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fist, and his fingers twitched, the same way they would when he desperately craved the presence of a victim on his table. He couldn't forgive anyone who hurt a child this badly, but all the same, he had to remember...Michael was a kid, too. Afton was the one to blame. Afton was the one to blame.]

[A corpse. Evan had undoubtedly seen a body, or at least fragments of it. He'd seen hair...hair like Lizzie's. Like Lavinia's. His suspicions had just been confirmed through Evan's testimony alone -- kids didn't just make these things up. Evan had seen something traumatizing. He might not have the capacity to understand the gravity of it, but that was probably for the best. Children molded their traumatizing memories into concepts they could understand. Dexter had certainly done that himself. A body had been stuffed inside of Fredbear; but to Evan, Fredbear had eaten someone.]

[...It was for the best that he didn't put two-and-two together. It was better to think that Fredbear had done it. Dexter wouldn't try to change Evan's mind.]

[On the plus side, his attestation made one thing crystal clear to Dexter: Afton deserved to be on his table. No more hesitating. No more sleuthing. At last, between his suspicions and Evan's story, he had his proof -- he had satisfied the conditions of Harry's code. Now he could solidify his plans, create a kill room, and rid the world of another monster. Finally.]

[Dexter thoroughly contained his excitement, continuing to show Evan the sympathy he deserved. If only he was truly capable of it. Once he saw the kid squeeze Fredbear in a vice grip, Dexter again showed the fatherly affection he wished Evan had. He wrapped his arm behind Evan and gently squeezed his shoulder, pulling him into a sideways pseudo-hug. Harry had done that when he comforted Dexter, or sometimes when he was proud. Dexter wasn't often a source of pride, nor did he ever feel deserving of comfort...so it was special to him.]

❝ I believe you. ❞ [Three words he was sure Evan had never heard.] ❝ ...I can't imagine how scary that must have been. ❞ [Though he said this, his mind flashed to a long-buried memory -- the memory of a desperate, tortured little boy, wailing, covered in his mother's blood. He shut his eyes and willed the image away.]

❝ You aren't stupid. You just saw something you weren't supposed to see...that no kid should ever see. ❞ [All because of his father and his brother. Dexter's free hand twitched again.] ❝ It makes sense that you're scared. I don't blame you. I would be, too. It's smart to hide, to get out of harm's way. ❞

[Dexter grimaced. He desperately wanted to protect Evan, but in these circumstances, it was next to impossible. He couldn't always be here. He wouldn't know when to interfere.]

“Hmmm probably when this lot gets  tipsy and starts dragging poor sacrifices over to the karaoke.”  

She had been rather surprised to come across Johnny when she entered for the party tonight, must have been around the building enough for someone to think to drag him tonight to here, but it was a welcome surprise. It did get overwhelming after a while of being the only sane soul in the building, what was the saying again? Misery enjoys company?

Speaking of she was suddenly acutely aware of a sea of eyes that locked on her and the start of murmuring.. Feeling a bit hot under the collar as she finishes her glass of water she can’t help but feel like Henry made her party chaperone solely to get her to do karaoke. Et tu Brutus.

“ Cmon Lav!” 

“ Yeah!”

There’s a sigh and she rubs her temple before putting her hand up to get the sea of shouting to shush and give her the floor.

“If I do one song, one, will you all promise to be respectable members of society for the rest of the night?”

Lavinia isn’t sure how much trust she puts in the wave of yes’s but there is a chance the party  will behave…..so she better take it. Lav gets down from the bar stool and retrieving her cane to head over to the small singing area.

“I’ll be back before you know it, keep an eye on my purse for me?Please. I don’t trust any of these toddlers not to knick their keys while I’m gone.”

A chorus of hooting and hollering as she moves, she’s rather sure there’s at least one whistle which gets an eye twitch. Salt, she is putting salt tomorrow in every break room coffee cup she can find. A hum as she flips through the machine's song choices, ABBA will do….she knows most of the songs without having to look at the lyrics. Sitting down on a stool one of the party goers thought best to provide, she grabs the mic.

“I wasn't jealous before we met

Now every woman I see is a potential threat

And I'm possessive, it isn't nice

❝ ...Right. ❞

[Dexter spoke defeatedly, knowing full-well that he was in for a night full of out-of-tune solos and butchered duets. Don't get him wrong, he loved a good butchering...but in the classical sense, not the "maul a good song" sense.]

[...In all fairness, though, Dexter had never been the musical type. All he knew was that high pitches and booming tracks made his ears ring. Most of his favorite tunes on the radio were calming, the sort of music that his father would listen to...in other words, nothing that was traditionally "suitable" for karaoke.]

❝ Well...so long as I'm not the lamb being drawn to the slaughter, I guess I don't mind. ❞ [He sighed disapprovingly, then swirled his beer and took another sip.]

[Why didn't he just leave? Why did he not want to? What was drawing him like a moth to a flame? He itched, yearned to get the Hell out of here...yet he remained by Lavinia's side.]

[He couldn't dwell on that, though, not when the crowd around him was so damned rowdy. He could barely hear himself think. Then...they started to look in his direction, murmuring indistinctly among themselves. His skin prickled; he couldn't stand the feeling of having all eyes on him. He was meant to blend in, be invisible, unnoticeable and untraceable. He was on the brink of making an excuse to leave, but as it turned out...they weren't looking at him.]

[They were looking at Lavinia.]

[Dexter wasn't the sacrificial lamb here...it was Lavinia. The throng of Fazbear employees cheered her name, pushing her to take the lead -- to sing the first karaoke song of the night. Conflicted, he quirked a brow to gauge Lav's reaction; was she as turned off to karaoke as he was? Would she wind up caving to the crowd's demands? Should he intervene?]

[Lavinia definitely looked annoyed, but willing...so long as the grunts of Fazbear Entertainment could keep themselves out of trouble for the rest of the night. A good bargain, as far as Dexter was concerned. The crowd flooded the room with a wave of "yes"es. It seemed that Lav's fate was sealed.]

❝ Oof. ❞ [Dexter teased, showing her an exaggerated grimace of faux-empathy. Lavinia took her cane and stood, then asked Dexter to guard her things while she sang. She was understandably concerned about this sea of drunken toddlers digging into her purse and retrieving their car keys; Dexter was fully unopposed. He forced a smile and playfully saluted.] ❝ Can do. Good luck up there. ❞

[The second she took the stage and sat, Dexter's mask fell. The eyes no longer fell upon him, so he had a moment to himself...during which he simply ran his hands up and down his face, exhausted and craving an escape. The closest thing he had was the beer he'd been nursing since he got here...so he took another sip.]

[For as reluctant as Lavinia had been, she had an attractive stage presence. Maybe it was just the way the lights fell upon her, maybe it was her confidence...maybe it was her voice. Whatever it was, it successfully drew his attention. His social exhaustion and overstimulation seemed to dwindle when he saw her in the limelight, and silence fell upon the room. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them. Like she was serenading him and only him.]

Oh Thank God. A soft laugh once Johnny gives her the condition for the offered coffee.

“You know what, deal~. I keep the kitchen well stocked so I’m sure you’ll find whatever you need. The only thing we don’t keep is peanuts , Evan has allergies so I just don’t like takin’ chances.”

That was one rough Halloween the night she got to find that little fact about her youngest son out, Lavinia’s not sure she ever led footed that fast to the ER in her life. She gestures to an older car in the parking lot,dark green with a white top, a bit dented in a few spots but clearly well loved despite its age and wear. 

“I shouldn’t be too hard to follow. I’m rather sure I'm the only green car in town.”

A small nod and off she goes to her car, she waits to make sure she sees Johnny get into his and then the two are off. It doesn't take all that long driving on the road, the house is a bit far compared to the houses in the neighborhood but still close to the diner. Lavinia parks her car in the garage so Johnny will have room to park, unlocking the front door and leading him inside. 

The only way to describe the living room was warmth versus cold. The furniture was modern and sleek but also so clearly for showing off to guests , however there were ….little things that could easily be put away scattered about. Colorful pillows and a blanket or two that looked hand knitted, small potted plants, and things the kids left out before school. Dolls, a book, and a baseball though the bat is missing.

“C’mon, this way to the kitchen.” 

❝ Works for me. ❞ [Dexter grinned, but made a mental note of Evan's peanut allergy. He doubted that the knowledge would come in handy at any point, but it was one more threat that Dexter could look out for.]

[Lavinia described her car -- yet another piece of knowledge that he'd keep in mind. If hers was indeed the only green car around ( and given how small Hurricane was, he didn't doubt it ), then it'd be a cinch to spot her if the need arose. Fortunately, Dexter had plenty of experience following cars...he wouldn't have a problem.]

❝ Hah, got it. Follow the green car. ❞ [He saluted playfully.]

[Dexter and Lavinia split off, then hopped into their respective cars. Not long after Dexter started his engine, Lavinia took the lead. Dexter studied the path she took, mentally absorbing the street signs and landmarks along the way. After all was said and done, he'd be sure to make the path stick by driving it a few times back and forth.]

[Dexter parked in the driveway; being right out in the open wasn't ideal, obviously, but he didn't have a choice. Just to be safe, he snuck to the back of his car and unscrewed the license plate, then tossed it in his trunk. Hurricane had plenty of grey cars and "mommy-mobiles." He should still be able to blend in just fine.]

[As though nothing happened, he locked his car and casually jogged to meet Lav at the front door.]

[The living room was a perfect portrait of Afton's façade and Lavinia's warmth. Expensive, luxury couch; lush carpet; antiquated grandfather clock; and the most modern television on the market. His showcase of furniture was contrasted by the only signs of life in the house: colorful pillows, hand-knitted blankets, potted plants, and scattered toys. It was very...telling.]

[Lavinia showed him the way to the kitchen, and after ascertaining where the "essentials" were -- frying pan, spatula, and ingredients -- he got started.]

❝ Alright, that's everything... ❞ [Dexter nodded and flashed a smile.] ❝ I shouldn't take too long, but, uh, go ahead and relax. You probably need the break, right? ❞

“Oh it was quite a darin’ escape out the second floor window.” Lavinia chuckles a little as she takes a sip from her water, unable to continue  with the joke “Hen’s watchin’ them for me. A sort of, he babysits the kids and I babysit the employees as I'm the only boss they’ll let loose around.”

The employees liked to cut loose at least three times a year, before spring /winter breaks and once for summer, and there was only one bar in town that could handle fitting a chunk of Fazbear workers. With an added bonus there was karaoke to laugh at friends and co workers being shit faced and trying to sing. 

“ Last time someone managed to steal the ceilin’ fan, somehow….and half of these mechanics went home in the wrong car.”

That would be why her purse was the current sacred holder of everyone’s keys so no one makes a stupid decision. 

[Dexter eyed Lavinia with a tad more concern after she finished her joke, not realizing that she'd been exaggerating. Once she started laughing, though, he awkwardly joined in like he'd understood her the first time.]

[Hen...right, Henry. The perks of Freddy's co-founders having close families: having a default babysitter. Still, it was a relief to know that those poor kids hadn't been left alone with their father. Lavinia was smart enough to prevent that, surely, but Dexter couldn't help worrying. Having a monster like that as a parent...he couldn't even imagine.]

❝ Makes sense. ❞ [Dexter remarked warmly, taking a look around the room. He couldn't believe that their humble franchise had so many faces...but even the most unrecognizable ones recognized Lavinia, and the atmosphere reflected the comfort of her presence. They were happier here than when they were at work. And then there was Dexter...the most out-of-place character in the group, simply standing by while the others partied their hearts out. He really, really wasn't the partying type.]

[Dexter quirked a brow when she mentioned the theft of the ceiling fan, a true testament to how comfortable these employees were around her. Still, Dexter laughed again, this time because he didn't realize she was being serious.]

[...Only to be proven wrong, yet again, when she clarified that the fan had never been returned. Dexter glanced at the ceiling, and indeed, one of the fans had been sloppily removed and never replaced. Yikes. He truly was in for the time of his life...unfortunately.]

❝ Huh. ❞ [He returned his gaze to the ground. Attending this get-together may have been a mistake -- no, it definitely was.] ❝ I guess the party hasn't even started yet. ❞

[Dexter tapped his bottle of beer anxiously, then took a swig. He had a long night ahead of him...even though he absolutely didn't have to be here. He wasn't under big Fazbear's employ. He wasn't even familiar with the employees who'd dragged him here...but in trying to remain "in character," he'd trapped himself in a bar filled with grown toddlers. He could have left -- no, should have left. He could be out right now, stalking Afton, familiarizing himself with his target's routine...but when Lavinia recognized and greeted him, he'd been drawn to her like a moth to a flame.]

" Hi mister Johnny !"

Though the giggling was lost the moment he pointed out she shouldn’t be out here by herself. Begging him not to tell her father that she was out here, she’s been doing so well and she knows he’ll be so angry if he finds out she was out here.  Suddenly her ‘nice’ party clothes feel all stupid itchy again and her lip threatens to start quivering again and and and-. Oh! Oh, her nose has been booped. A blink of surprise followed by the kind of laugh and smile that scrunches a nose.

Lizzie clasps her tiny hands together at the offer of a piggy back ride so she can see better from a distance. Practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Really?! Do you really really mean it? If you do, I'll tell you a secret! I promise!”

[Dexter almost felt like he had a heart when he saw the littlest Aftons so happy. How it would have swelled with joy every time he twirled them around or saw them smile in a way that scrunched their faces...alas, he was incapable of realizing that happiness. Dear as the Afton kids were to him, he was still a monster without hope of rehabilitation.]

[Still, he plastered a ( effortless ) smile on his face to match his shows of affection. Lizzie went from uncomfortably fidgeting with her dress to beaming when Dexter booped her nose, which was a massive relief. He'd successfully drawn her attention from Circus Baby to himself. Now he just had to keep up the ruse until he was sure she was safe...and until she had no desire to return to Circus Baby's side. If her safety wasn't guaranteed, then Afton would have to wait.]

[...After all, it wasn't just Afton he needed to concern himself with now. It was all of these damned killer robots, too. It would be too difficult to disarm them, let alone keep them from luring children from this crowd, while he had Elizabeth in his custody...he'd just have to do some damage control until he had an opening. First Afton, then the robots. Tonight could still be the night.]

[Lizzie shook with excitement when he offered a piggyback ride, successfully distracting him from strategizing. Right -- she came first right now.]

❝ A secret, huh? ❞ [He cartoonishly brought his hand to his chin and tapped thoughtfully. Funnily enough, whatever she shared might be incredibly useful. Lizzie might be young, but she could still have "intel" that she didn't quite understand yet. His plan was now botched, but depending on what she told him...maybe he'd be able to use it to his advantage.] ❝ That's a mighty big offer. In fact, I think it's juuust enough to earn you a ticket on the piggyback train. ❞

[Elizabeth expressed her sincerity by crossing her heart -- and since it was coming from a child, Dexter knew just how important the gesture was. This was serious to her.]

“If you are about to say some shit about my father I swear to-.” He hisses

Mike cuts himself off, the break room fridge he was currently riffling in for ice or whatever energy drink he could find getting an upset slam shut when he can’t find squat. He’s sporting a nice shiner, busted lip, and bruises on that fist that hasn’t unclenched quite yet. He’s in a mood and he’s taken it out on everyone and everything since he got in the building. He…He didn’t fully snap at his mother when passing her office  but he knows he was rude …he-.

[Michael was a shining example of what happened when your genetics mixed with childhood abuse and trauma; angry, miserable, and hopelessly broken. Dexter truly didn't hold anything against the kid, but if his behavior continued to escalate...well, then Dexter's dark passenger might take matters into his own hands.]

[Dexter leaned against a table in the break room, hands non-threateningly tucked into his pockets. After Michael hissed about the nonexistent mention of his father, he slammed the fridge door shut, revealing his wounds of the day; a black eye, a busted lip, and bruised knuckles. It didn't take a detective to solve this mystery. Dexter's expression fell, but his eyes burned with hatred for the man responsible. It wasn't Michael's fault that his darkness was slowly consuming him, and unfortunately, it wouldn't be long before he snapped like a stretched rubber band. Dexter wanted nothing more than to complete his kill and free Mike from the darkness altogether. He knew all too well what happened when you succumbed to it.]

❝ I don't have to. I'm talking about your darkness, Mike...not the man who created it. ❞

[Dexter stood and approached Michael. He contemplated dropping the mask, allowing Michael to glimpse his dark passenger...but for now, he'd refrain. He was still Johnny Fletcher. He was still a friend, one who simply feared for the welfare of the Afton family. He didn't think Michael was too far gone...and that was why they needed to have this conversation now.]

❝ Did your father do this to you? ❞ [Dexter pointed at Michael's face, his words spoken through gritted teeth, unintentionally baring the fangs of his inner "beast" for the briefest of moments. He lowered his hand again and took a step back, but continued to gesture to emphasize his words.] ❝ ...And there's only so much you can take before you snap. I've seen the way you and your "buddies" treat your brother, Mike. I know you take your anger out on him because he's an easy target. He can't fight back, not the way your father can. ❞

The talk of nothing better than fresh gets a little nod, his eyes more focused on his shoes and the ground of the parking lot. He debated the pros and cons of sitting down for a minute before very slowly and carefully decided to join him on the sidewalk. Being as careful of his little injured knees as he could. It was a bit better, being able to put Fred in his lap and bury his head into the top of the yellow fur.

“.....M-Mikey was-.”

Mike told him he can’t tell their parents, but this isn’t mama or father. This was mama’s friend who he’s seen make her smile like when she’s happy tending her garden. Maybe it was okay then?

“M-Mikey and his fr-friends were tr-trying to lock me in the backr-room.”

The' again' goes unsaid but it’s clear that word was going to be originally at the end of his sentence. Little arms tighten on his teddy bear and his breath hitches. He makes mama happy….Evan can trust him surely. 

[It wasn't until they were outside that Dexter realized that the poor kid had been holding his breath. Once those doors were closed behind them, Evan practically gulped down the fresh air. Dexter's comment had been made in jest, but Evan really exemplified it. Not that Dexter could blame him -- the diner was stuffy, and it was difficult to enjoy the smell of pizza when the entire diner was pocked by the stench of rot. Dexter worked in homicide, and he knew that smell -- it was the smell of death. He just needed solid evidence that Afton was the one responsible for it.]

[After a moment, Evan settled on sitting beside him. He held his teddy bear tightly and buried his face in its golden fur. Then, slowly but surely, he told Dexter his story.]

[None of it was surprising. Dexter had witnessed Michael ( and his friends ) tormenting poor Evan many, many times now. A few times now, he'd intervened -- including this reprieve -- but it never stopped. It seemed to escalate every time. Evan was safe right now, but Dexter knew what would happen if the pattern continued. Fredbear's didn't need a higher body count. The world didn't need another William.]

❝ …I'm sorry. You're a good kid, Evan. You don't deserve any of this. ❞ [Truly, he didn't. He was the victim of a vicious cycle, passed from father to oldest son. Before Dexter could offer any form of reassurance, Evan continued with a devastated, heart-breaking declaration: he didn't want to go back...]

[...And what was that about being "eaten by Fredbear, too"?]

[Dexter's disposition as a concerned pseudo-parent slipped, replaced by a pseudo-sleuth putting the pieces together. "Eaten" by an animatronic. The reek of death in the diner. Dexter knew that the bodies must have been close ( or perhaps that Afton didn't know that air fresheners existed ), but...maybe they had been closer than he thought. Maybe they were hiding in plain sight.]

[Dexter looked back at the poor kid, shaking and wracked with fear; the sight was enough to bring back his paternal persona.]