Chapter Text
Mike stares ahead at the overly tired man sitting across the table from him. One that some people might describe as looking like a zombie, given the bags under his eyes and the general slouch of his shoulders; the look even more completed by the way his hair was frizzled, appearing like it hadn’t been washed or brushed in a few days, and clothes that smelled and looked like they’d been dipped in pizza grease.
But compared to Mike, a literal zombie, he had to say, the guy looked quite alive. Perhaps not emotionally, if the way he slumped against the table and deadpan look on his face said anything. In fact, the man was currently doing a better job of looking half dead than he was, as unlike the man, Mike was in his best suit (this one didn’t even have any singe marks on it!) with his posture as straight as he could make it and the most pleasant smile he could muster up on his perfectly normal human face (made only that way by the illusion disk attached to the side of his neck).
Perhaps at one point in life, he would have been in the same mood this Jeff guy was. But over the years, as more and more fucks escaped him, he found himself going with the flow more easily. Plus, he wanted to make a good impression. This was his first time doing a job interview that a place that didn’t just hire anyone as long as they were breathing… hell even those who weren’t.
“Uh…” Jeff looks down at the paper, a confused look crossing his face like he had no clue what he was doing. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Mike Fitzgerald.”
“Right. Right.” Lazily, Jeff pulls a pen across the paper in front of him, writing the name down.
Mike sits, hands perfectly folded on the table in front of him.
Jeff frowns at the paper, eyebrows drawing together.
“What is the reason you want to work here?”
“I like not being broke.”
Jeff nods, like he could understand. “Can’t say we can pay much.”
Mike nods, he figured as much. “That’s okay.”
“Any past experience?”
Mike sighs. Boy, where did he even begin. “Depends what you’re looking for. I’ve worked plenty of night shifts. Though… I spent most of those trying not to die. See, most places had all these mangled animatronics running around everywhere. Bastards to try and avoid. So I guess I could say I’m good at thinking on my feet. Oh! I did do a small gig as a door to door salesman but when I say short, I mean few hours short,” - who knew a zombie trying to sell vacuums wouldn’t go well? - “my last job was a haunted attraction. May have heard of it. Was called Fazbear Frights. It burned down. Which I barely had anything to do with.” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best to end with.
Jeff nods and hums along with the information given, ignoring most of it just to comment, “Well, it’s mostly day shifts you would be working here.”
“Perfect!”
Jeff regarded him with a lazy look. Mike felt the illusion disk slightly flicker, for a moment showing his more ghoulish side, but Jeff didn’t even flinch.
“The job would mainly be cleaning, helping customers, and making pizzas.” He pauses after that last one, looking at Mike. “Do you think you’d be able to handle that?”
“Got any giant metal contraptions in there capable of scooping out a human’s organs?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then yes!”
Jeff nods, writing something else down. Though when Mike looks at the paper, it’s just his name followed by a smiley face with x’s for eyes and a little doodle of a rat.
“Can you start tomorrow?” Jeff asks, voice sounding more alive in the question than it has the rest of the interview.
“Sure can!”
“Then you’re hired.” The voice is back to its same dead tone.
“Oh excellent! My husband will be so happy. And here he was saying I wouldn’t be able to get a job after my past of arson, tax evasion, and forgery.”
“Welcome to the team.”
“Oh, do more people work here?”
“No just me. And now you.” Jeff stands, chair scooting back in the empty dining area they were conducting the interview in. “We open at 11:00. See you then.”
“You got it boss!” Mike salutes, smile on his face as he stands from his chair, interview over.