The taste had become a lot more evident, seeping in his spit and making his throat go dry. It stuck to the skin of his teeth and every time he breathed it was like it took a form of scent, filling his lungs and sending an indescribable sensation ramming into his chest. His tongue had become addicted to it like a drug, wiggling behind his lips with a pang of wanting, agony...withdrawal.

The taste was such a distraction that Mike didn't even notice that half of his face was dripping with blood.

Jeremy, red still visible on his cheeks, shut the drawers with a slam. He flinched at his own action, half surprised to see himself act so harshly. Swallowing, he swiveled his chair around to face his partner, whom had been staring at him with intense thought for the last half hour.

The night watch gave a shaky sigh. "C-can you wrap it yourself? Or do...do you need help...?"

It took the security guard a moment to recollect himself and register the sentence. He glanced down at his hands; although a little dried, blood still painted his hands, covering most of his palm and digits, the liquid settling in his fingerprints like artwork. Much alike the stains on the side of Jeremy's cheeks-

Mike shook his head, erasing the thought from his mind. He could probably work the tablet, maybe the lights. But any attempt to bandage himself in his state would either tear the wound even more, or just leave it infected. He didn't trust his hands enough to bring them around the stitches, not with how hard they were shaking.

Jeremy caught onto the notion, looking down. "U-uh...ok..." He took the tablet, giving it a quick look through before plopping in the other's lap. "Y-you um...just watch the cameras..." Jeremy leaned to the sides, checking both vents and giving the hallway a flash before returning to the task at hand.

Mike dully nodded, tapping on the screen with a single, untainted finger as Jeremy worked to unroll a new adhesive.

It was silent, nothing but the soft buzz of the overhead light above them to give anything to hear. Without conversation, the mind could focus only on other senses; the sights of low lights casting shadows on their faces, crimson losing it's gloss as it dried. The smell of it, copper and metallic as they inhaled. The feeling of tension in the air, thick enough you'd think you could physically tear through it.

The taste that lingered on Mike's tongue and on the corner's of Jeremy's mouth.

The security guard coughed to break the awkward silence. "So, um..." He kept his eyes tilted down at the screen. "How...how long was I out?"

Jeremy shrugged, tearing the last piece of wrapping from the roll. "N-not long, really" Long enough to do some damage to the animatronics...and to him. "Face me" He mumbled. Mike gave the left vent a flash before swirling his chair to face the night watch. The motion sent a pang of ache pulsing through his forehead.

Mike grit his teeth, faking a tiny smile. "This is just like when you started your first shift, you know?" He pondered on the memory, sneaking a glance at the night watch. Jeremy didn't notice, already leaning over the security guard and wiping the blood from his skin. "...I guess that means I gotta be more careful with my head...hehe" Mike's sentence faded into a gust of nervous laughter, trying to ignore how short the distance between the two of them were.

Jeremy, after a moment, gave a slight nod. "y-yeah..." Once the scars were clean, he began to wound the first layer of the bandages. He was careful, mindful of the security guards ears as the wrapping wove around his cranium. He strung it tight enough to hold place, but loose enough to prevent anymore irritation to the wound.

Jeremy eyed the scars, which considering that Mike's had them long as he has, should have been simple straight lines carved into his head. Instead, it was jagged stitches and deep curves that cut deep, trailing from the start of his hairline to the upper base of his skull. Years of poor care taking showed through the scratches and marks that border lined each stitch.

Jeremy shuddered. The action did not go unnoticed. "...I can wrap it myself, if you watch the cameras..." Mike mumbled, flickering through the screens. His response was a firm, almost urgent head shake. "N-no, just..."

Losing focus for a split second, a fingernail scraped over a scar, causing Mike to give a low growl. "Hey..."

Jeremy fumbled with the bandage, heat rising in his cheeks. "S-s-sorry!, I..um..." He quickly relocated his hands to hover over the security guards ears, careful of his fingers. "I-I didn't mean to-" He stammered.

Mike waved him off. "Don't worry about it. It didn't hurt..." He wasn't lying. It didn't hurt a bit. In fact, though he would never admit it, it felt...good. There was a reason why he scratched his own head from time to time, to give himself a little relief from the ever so burning itch he was accustomed to.

Some day's the feeling would just fade into the background, while other day's it would be drilling into his senses until he finally scratched, which usually resulted in drawing blood. The feeling couldn't be denied, however. Much alike how a dog would feel if you scratched behind it's ears.

Suddenly, Mike was a lot more self aware; aware of how the taste had yet to fade, the distance between him and the night watch had shortened and the cameras haven't been checked in while.

He focused on the screen, half-ways tuning out Jeremy's stutters. "A-are you sure?" The younger male asked, half curious as to why there were human claw marks on his co-workers head anyways. Mike nodded, leaning away momentarily to check both vent's lights. "It's nothing, Jere" His throat went uncomfortably dry as his name rolled over his tongue. "Happens all the time..."

"....That's not a good thing, M-Mike"

The security guard shrugged, facing downwards. Check the cameras: BonBon staring into 04, Chirp and Mangle both glaring into 07, the rest of their animatronic's in their respective places. Mike flipped to the prize corner to wind the music box, raising a brow at the sight that greeted him.

The marionette was out of it's box, arms hanging down to the ground as it's body lay slumped over the sides, it's strings knotted and coiling as if it was in pain. Mike eyed the screen closely, spotting a crack in the the white of the puppet's face, just above an eye. How did that happen?

"I-if you keep scratching it, you're only going to make it worse" Jeremy's voice brought Mike back to attention. He rolled his eyes, flashing down the hallway once before turning back to the night watch. "Geeze, what are you? My mom?"

Jeremy frowned. "I'm serious, Mike"

"Yeah, well it's my head. I can do what I want-" He was cut short, grunting as the bandages were tightened ever so slightly to irritate him. Mike glanced up to see a flash of satisfaction on the younger male's face before it faded away. "Why you little.."

"Done"

Leaning away and back into his chair, Jeremy began to stuff the first-aid's contents back into their spots. "I-it's not the best..." He mumbled, sparing his quick wrap work on the security guard's head. "But it will hold, a-at least for the night" He paused for a moment to check the lights. Nothing, yet.

He was about to shut the aid's lid before a hand found it's way over his own. He followed the hand up to it's owner, meeting icy blue eyes. "My turn"

Jeremy raised a brow, confused. "W-what?" Mike swatted his hand away, reaching inside the container to pull out a cleansing wipe pack. "In case you've forgotten..." He gestured to Jeremy's face. "You're still covered in blood" His blood, to be specific. But that little detail didn't need to emphasized.

The night watch remained in uncertain silence as Mike tossed the tablet into his lap. "You watch this time." Jeremy shook his head in protest. "B-but who will check the light's? I can clean it off after the shift-" A sharp glare from the other party cut his objection short.

"I was wrong. They're just not up to it tonight. We're fine, Jere" The older male said, tearing open the plastic bag. Looking back up, he wrinkled his nose at the realization that the red liquid had completely dried, leaving hand prints on the sides of a pale, soft face. It would have been comical if it didn't mean it was going to be ten times harder to rub off.

"B-but this is different" Jeremy voiced, leaning away from Mike's outstretched palm. "I'm not actually hurt!"

"...Then let's just make sure of that"

Jeremy would have given the protest another go if it wasn't for his conscious suddenly reminding him to keep the music box up and running. He took the tablet in his hands, shuffling through the cameras until it landed on the Prize Corner. His thumb was already on the button before he noticed the marionette, hunched over and glaring through the screen, a crack above his eye.

He was so caught up in his inner frenzied thoughts he didn't noticed Mike's hand inch closer to his face. Something cold and wet landed near his ear and he flinched away, the smallest of a yelp escaping his lips. "H-hey! I already told you I don't need..."

"Don't argue with me on this."

If Jeremy hasn't seen Mike use his full authority before, well he certainly has now. He fidgeted under the cold stare, looked back down to shift through the tablet. "W-why is it so important?"

"I just want to maker sure you're not hurt"

"...but I'm not"

"You look it"

"It's not m-mine, remember?"

A sudden wave of static filled the air and rushed into their ears. The both of them swiftly turned their heads to spot Mangle hurtling down the hallway, slowing and coming to a halt as both guards froze in a deadlock stare; them and her, the extra head wounding it's way up her neck as if to join the party.

Mike reacted, quickly pulling Jeremy's mask down and ducking under the desk, cursing. Both his mask and hat lay forgotten on the floor a few feet away, just out of reach. Jeremy froze in his seat, hands clenched at his sides in an effort to calm himself as the mass of wire and metal approuched him.

Mangle scanned the office, disappointed when she and her 'friend' couldn't find any visible signs of life. Eventually, the mass and all of it's limbs disappeared down another corridor, much to the night watch's relief. The feeling was not shared with the security guard.

From underneath the desk, Mike could do nothing but curse and wait out the confrontation. Without a second thought, his vision trailed over to Jeremy, watching him for any sign that Mangle wasn't going to leave. But what really caught his eye were the bruises forming on the teen's wrist, red fingerprints to accompany them. Did he do that?

Mike grit his teeth. The taste had finally gone, but it had left his mouth dry in it's wake.

After he was sure the mangled mess was gone, he crawled out from underneath the desk, adjusted his tie, and quietly went back to unpackaging the wipes. Jeremy pushed up his mask, settling in down on the desk, just within reach if he needed.

He raised a brow when Mike scooted his chair closer, towelette in hand. He was half a second away from backpedaling when he found himself locked in a dead serious stare. Mixed with...guilt? "Head down, watch the bots." Mike ordered.

Jeremy shivered as the cold hit his face, sliding down his cheek. When it pulled back, he could see stains of red almost completely covering the rag. His eye's widened. There was a lot more blood on his face than he thought.

Mike mildy grabbed his chin, turning it to the side to get a better angle. "Cameras, Jere" The night watch gave a little nod in acknowledgment. He flipped through screens; BonBon was back on stage, Chica posed in the main party room, Mangle hanging around the mini-merry-go-round. The puppet was slowing pulling it's body into it's box, giving the camera an angry, sleepy glare as Jeremy wound the music box.

The left side of Jeremy' face was a bitch to clean. The blood had dried into his pores, and Mike was having to rub a little harsh to get every print off. Jeremy flinched away from the action, pouting. Mike rolled his eyes, using his other hand to cup the side of his face in place as he smeared the red away. "Almost done, just give me a minute"

"I-I'm not a baby"

"Quit acting it, then"

Jeremy opened his mouth to argue, before shutting it again. He just didn't have the energy to argue.

Mike finished the first side of his face, throwing the used rag away to pick out a new one. "Hey" He mummered, tearing open the plastic. "You never told me what happened while I was out"

Without a second thought, Jeremy looked up from the screen, ready to spew some half-assed excuse or explanation, save for some minor details. But whatever justification he had withered away when he locked with icy eyes. "...W-why do you want to know?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Considering my head was bleeding and it looks like I smacked you around a few times, I think it's safe to assume that shit went down." He sighed, tilting the younger male's head to wipe underneath his neck.

Jeremy swallowed hard, swatting Mike's hand away. "You didn't hit me"

"I did something, obviously"

The night watch briefly pondered if the older man could see the pink rise to his cheeks, or did it blend in with the wet smears he was working so hard to clean? "W-well..." He stammered, wringing his hands together. Mike squinted at the action. He was definitely hiding something.

And he was half sure he already knew what it was.

"W-what do you w-want to know?"

"...Have you seen the puppet?"

Jeremy shoulders drooped a little, a bit relieved. He quickly picked back up the tablet, winded the music box and set it down again, the question having reminded him of the responsibility. "...Yes" He answered plainly.

The older man dulled at the answer. "...What happened to his eye?" Jeremy gave a weak shrug, freezing when he was given a cold stare. "U-um...I-it just...It kinda attacked...."

Mike's eyes widened in disbelief. If the marionette attacked them, should they be dead? Or worse, stuffed? "When the fuck did that happen?" He growled, his hand pressed a little too hard to the side of his co-worker's face. Jeremy cringed and Mike leaned away. "Sorry, it's just..." He took a deep breath. "Fuck...who was watching the Prize Corner?"

"...You had the tablet, actually."

"Shit, Jeremy, I'm sorry..."

Jeremy gave a tiny smile. "D-don't worry about it! I-I mean, we're both safe, and that's all that matters" He waved it off, giving a short laugh as he flashed through the cameras once more. His heart dropped. Something was off.

The animatronics, while still a good distance away from the office, were situated in groups, posed and positioned in a way that made it look like they were whispering to one another, as if there was some juicy gossip that needed to be heard. Flipping to the Prize Corner, his stomach churned.

Besides the puppet, whom was peeking out ever so slightly, two animatronic's surrounded the box. Jeremy observed the them as his thumb rest on the music box remote.

Fred barely fit into the closed view of the camera, giving the cameras a decent side view of him. Strange, considering he had never so much as gone within feet of the Prize Corner before, leaving the space to the marionette respectively. He was half hunched over the table, blue eyes and rosy cheeks focused solely on black and white figure.

As was Mangle, who hung from the ceiling, both heads craned downwards to give the puppet their full attention. The static that should have been roaring through the tablet's speakers was alarmingly a lot more hushed, as if the robot had tuned it down to listen to something a lot more interesting.

Were the animatronic's...discussing them?

Blinking, Jeremy shook the thought from his mind, setting the tablet face downwards in his lap. He missed how the puppet's mask slowly shifted to glare into the lens, a gleam in the crack of his eye.

Mike ran a hand over his head, the bandage's course fabric under his palm. "How we looking?"

Jeremy flashed the vents, just to make sure there wasn't any more social gathering in there too. "...I don't think they'll make much of an e-effort tonight..." Mike nodded. "Ok, good" There was a moment of dull quiet, then Mike spiked back to attention. "...You didn't answer my question"

Jeremy looked baffled. "I..did"

"No, you didn't" Mike whipped out the last wet rag, motioning Jeremy to tilt his head just the slightest without a word. "What happened during the attack?" The night watch cringed. Under the impression he might have pressed a little to hard, his other hand returned to hold the night watch's face in place, gently cupping the jaw.

"...This is too weird, Mike"

"Don't change the subject"

After a moment's hesitation, Jeremy sighed in defeat. "You...kinda fought back." The sentence made the security guard pause, cursing under his breath before continuing. "What do you mean I 'fought back'?"

Jeremy looked downwards, twiddling his thumbs. "Y-you seemed really angry" He began. "You, uh..kinda smashed his face in the desk...."

Awkward pause, realization, then a short gust of laughter. "Shit, really?" Mike chuckled. "...Well, it's not like I wouldn't have done that shit awake"

Jeremy batted him arm. "That's mean!" The guard scuffed his chin playfully in return, his mouth twitching upwards. "Nah, it totally deserves it"

"You've scarred him for life. Literally." Jeremy retorted. He was right, unless the puppet had some kind of spare mask or 'magical healing properties', he was stuck with quite a evident flaw above the eye. Which reminded him. "...We could get fired, you know"

Mike shook his head. "If anyone asks, tell em' a kid did that to it. They've already screwed Mangle over" He stifled a laugh at the look he received. "C'mon...it's totally believable."

"It's lying"

"It's keeping our jobs"

"Geeze, Mike" Jeremy sighed, rolling his eyes. "I should really reconsider being friends with you" His response was a smug grin. "Please, you'll never find anybody like me" Mike teased.

"That's kinda the idea"

"...Well, you're still a dweeb"

"...Dick"

"Bite me"

Jeremy didn't snark back, only sticking out his bottom lip in an angry pout, resisting his mouth's urge to curve into a smile. Mike snickered at the sight. "Like I said: Dweeb"

"...Are you done y-yet?"

"No, not quite"

The rag was nearly filthy with the stuff, but he was getting closer to being finished. Call it another symptom of his brain damage, but the burning idea of him using Jeremy as a canvas for bloody finger paint just didn't sit alright with him. Which brings his mind back to the upcoming topic at hand.

"So," He breathed. "Wanna tell me about the bruises around your wrist, buddy?"

Jeremy froze, his heart in his throat. "W-what are you talking about?" He smiled nervously, slowly moving his hands to fall to his side, out of Mike's view. The security guard didn't even need to look downwards. "Look at your hands, Jere" He mummered, the playful demeanor diminishing by the second. "Tell me I didn't do that"