@aquaticflora asked: ❝ it's almost two o'clock in the morning! what are you doing here? ( from michael <:3c ) ❞ ( misc sentence prompts )
The voice pulled William from his work, tools set aside so he could check his watch. He had lost track of time. Again. His response came in the form of a smirk cast over his shoulder, "I could ask you the same. You should be asleep." It wasn't a particularly scolding statement. No, that tone became etched into his words when he added, "I told you not to come in here alone." William's workshop—well, the one situated in the leftmost side of the basement of his home. His active creations were never kept within the home, but even these sparsely put together pieces could cause damage. Finally, William turned to face Michael. "Or were you looking for me?" His gaze flitted from Michael to his current project—just a skeletal beginning of what it would soon be. William's expression shifted, a genuine smile finding its way onto his face. He gestured for Michael to come closer. "Come here." He stepped to the side, revealing the animatronic-in-progress. For the most part, it was an endoskeleton, if a different design. William's design, entirely unique. However, the head and neck were in place over the endoskeleton, the brightly colored vulpine-esque creature kept in place with holders. "It's alright, it's unpowered." And here a sort of honest joy shone through William's often poised performance. Part of it was an honest, innocent sort—the joy of showing off one of his creations. The other part, however, was knowing he was creating something veritably dangerous, showing it off to his son who could not know any better.
"This," he began, "is my new variation of Foxy." He reached out to carefully shift a faceplate, not enough to pull it away from the endoskeleton, but enough to mimic the movement he hoped it might one day make on stage. "This one won't be a pirate, but it's much more. . . dynamic than the previous iterations." Reaching out, he placed a hand on Michael's shoulder. "What do you think, Michael? Will it be a success?" The answer didn't matter—William had plenty of pride in his own work. Still, he looked to Michael as though the response was paramount.
