Chapter Text
The metal around him vibrated with every breath he took as he waited, his heartbeat a thunderous drum in his ear. For a moment, that was all he could hear. Then something slipped past the roar of his pulse.
Not footsteps. No.
A voice.
Sweet and poisonous, drifting closer, curling through the dark like it was searching for him. It slid down the hallway like syrup poured over broken glass, and his stomach twisted hard.
He pressed himself deeper into the cramped metal of Freddy’s stomach hatch, trying to make himself smaller, quieter. As invisible as he possibly could.
“Come on, little Gregory!”
She cooed, sing‑song and cheerful.
“It won’t be that bad… I promise I’ll make it quick… quicker than falling asleep. All the other little lost children came along just fine! So be a good boy and come on out!”
His breath hitched.
He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep the sound in. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shake the metal around him, alerting her to his position. She really did want to hurt him.
He knew that tone. He’d heard adults talk like that before, right before something awful happened. Her footsteps clicked ever closer, slow and patient, like she was savoring the hunt.
Gregory squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to shake. The hatch was dark, hot, and claustrophobic, the metal pressing against his back and knees. He could hear his own pulse in his ears like a cacophony.
The footsteps paused.
He stopped breathing.
Then… they moved on. He didn’t relax, not really, but he let out a tiny, trembling breath. His hand stayed clamped over his mouth.
A soft mechanical hum vibrated through the metal around him. Then a whir. Then a chime.
Freddy was powering on.
“W‑What… what happened?”
Freddy’s voice crackled to life, confused and groggy.
“My recharge cycle is not complete? Why are my stomach hatch sensors going off? I was just on stage—”
Gregory panicked and smacked the inside of the chest plate.
“Hey, could you keep it down?!” he hissed, “You’ll blow my cover!”
Freddy jolted, “What!? Who said that?”
“Me! I’m in your stomach hatch!” Gregory hissed, voice barely above a whisper.
Freddy jolted so hard the metal around Gregory vibrated.
The animatronic’s servers whirred in a startled cascade, gears clicking, internal systems booting faster than they were meant to. Gregory felt the tremor run through the entire frame, a mechanical shiver of confusion.
“My stomach hatch?” Freddy repeated, voice pitching up in alarm, “That’s reserved for oversized birthday cakes and piñatas! It is not a safe play area!”
The hatch opened with a soft hydraulic hiss, flooding Gregory’s cramped hiding spot with harsh white light. He flinched, instinctively curling in on himself. His eyes burned from the sudden brightness after so long in the dark metal cavity.
Freddy’s massive hands reached in.
Gregory froze.
For a split second, his brain flashed back to rope fibers digging into his wrists, a hand grabbing him too tightly, the sound of a gunshot. His breath hitched and his muscles locked.
But Freddy’s hands didn’t grab him like that.
They moved slowly, carefully, like he was something fragile. Like Freddy was afraid of hurting him.
Gregory let himself be lifted out, though every instinct screamed at him to fight, to run, to bite. Freddy held him steady, supporting his weight with surprising gentleness. The animatronic’s eyes flickered as a scanning grid swept over Gregory’s face and chest, bathing him in soft blue light.
“Thank goodness you’re alright!” Freddy said, genuine relief in his voice, “You appear to not have a guest profile. Who are you?”
Gregory hesitated.
He glanced toward the door, toward the hallway where that woman had been calling for him with that too‑sweet, too‑wrong voice. His stomach twisted again and his hands shook harder.
He looked back up at Freddy.
Freddy’s LED eyes glowed warm and steady, nothing like the cold, hungry smile of the security guard. There was no malice in him. No threat. Just confusion and concern.
“I‑I’m… Gregory…” he whispered.
Freddy nodded, “Okay, Gregory. Everything is going to be alright. I’ll just notify the security office and we’ll get you to your parents in no time.”
Gregory’s blood ran cold. His breath caught in his throat and his vision tunneled as his heart slammed against his ribs.
“N‑No!” he blurted, stumbling back, “You can’t contact security!!! They’re the ones trying to get me!”
Freddy’s brow plates lowered in confusion, “Well, yes. If you are not a guest, you are trespassing and need to be removed by security. That is their job. I know you may be scared about being in trouble, but I’m sure this is all just a huge misunderstanding.”
Gregory shook his head violently. He could feel a new panic rising in his chest, hot, sharp, and suffocating. His throat tightened and his hands curled into fists, “I wish that was all it was!” he spoke, voice cracking.
“That lady with the blonde hair tried to take me away and hurt me! Then, while she was walking past your room where I was hiding, she started talking about how she’d ‘make it quicker than falling asleep’!”
Freddy’s eyes flickered. A tiny glitch of concern, his programming not knowing how to categorize what Gregory was saying. Gregory swallowed hard, voice trembling, “Even if all they’d do is call my parents, I think that might be worse… but either way! She’s trying to hurt me and I just need to leave this place and I can go home myself! It’s not far! Please just help me get out!”
Freddy lifted a finger to his mouth, brows drawn in concern and deep thought, “I wouldn’t want you going on your own…”
Gregory grabbed Freddy’s hand, or tried to. His fingers barely wrapped around one of Freddy’s fingers. The size difference made him feel small, but not in the way adults usually made him feel. Not powerless. Just… small.
“Listen, please,” he begged, “The security guard is dangerous. My house is literally a few steps away from the Pizzaplex. All you have to do is help me get out the doors and I’ll be good. It’s the safest option!”
Freddy stared at him for a long moment. His eyes dimmed, then brightened again, processing. A conflict between protocol and something else. Gregory held his breath.
Finally, Freddy sighed, shoulders slumping.
“Alright… I’ll help you,” he said quietly, “I do hope you’re telling the truth… or I’ll get in a lot of trouble…”
Gregory exhaled shakily, relief flooding his chest so fast it made him dizzy. Then, Gregory heard footsteps. Not the heavy, clunky kind that belonged to animatronics. These were deliberate and measured.
Human.
His stomach dropped. He scrambled back toward Freddy, panic rising like a tide, “Hide me—hide me hide me hide me—” he whispered, voice cracking.
Freddy startled, servers whirring, “Hide you? But Gregory, I—”
Gregory didn’t wait for permission.
He slapped the chest plate, and the hatch popped open just enough for him to squeeze inside. He curled up tight, pulling the metal door shut behind him until only a sliver of light remained.
“Be quiet!” he hissed, “She’s coming!!”
Freddy stiffened instantly, posture snapping into a rigid, unnatural stillness. He held his arms slightly out, careful not to crush the small boy curled inside him.
The footsteps grew louder.
Gregory held his breath.
Then she appeared.
Officer Vanessa walked past the window of Freddy’s room, her silhouette framed by the bright hallway lights. She moved slowly, almost lazily, like she had all the time in the world. Her ponytail bounced with each step, and her flashlight beam swept across the glass.
But it was her smile that froze Freddy’s processors.
It was too wide. Too bright and happy. A smile that didn’t match her eyes at all. Freddy’s internal threat-detection subroutines flickered.
He’d seen images like this in his training database. Micro-expressions, warnings about humans whose expressions didn’t match their emotional output.
Uncanny. Untrustworthy. Potential danger.
“Little Gregory…” Vanessa called sweetly, voice dripping with honey, “Come out, come out… I just want to talk to you…”
Gregory trembled inside the hatch. Freddy felt it. He felt the tiny vibrations against his internal frame.
Vanessa paused right outside the door.
Freddy didn’t move.
After a long, agonizing moment, she continued down the hall, humming to herself. The second her footsteps faded, Gregory shoved the hatch open and tumbled out, gasping for air like he’d been underwater.
“See?” he whispered harshly, pointing toward the door, “She’s out to get me!”
Freddy stared at him.
This time, though, there was no confusion. No searching protocol databases or anything similar. This time he looked at the terrified little boy with something like a dawning realization.
“I…” Freddy began slowly, “I did not like the way she smiled.”
Gregory paused, surprised, “You saw it too?”
Freddy nodded, brow plates furrowing, “It was… incorrect. A smile should not look like that. And her tone—” He paused, searching for the right word, “Her tone did not match her words. It was… predatory.”
Gregory’s breath hitched, “Yeah. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Freddy knelt down so they were eye-level. His voice softened, losing its rehearsed cheer.
“Gregory… I believe you.”
Something in Gregory’s chest loosened, just a little. It felt something like relief, a tiny sliver of safety. He didn’t trust, not yet, but something dangerously close.
Freddy straightened, his posture shifting from confused entertainer to something more protective.
“Okay,” he said, voice firming, “First, you need to let me out of my room. Do you have a photo pass?”
Gregory shook his head.
Freddy hummed, gears clicking thoughtfully, “Then you must obtain one from the convenience counter at the end of Rockstar Row. Take the ventilation system to get out of here, okay?”
He reached into his hatch and produced a Fazwatch, placing it gently into Gregory’s hands.
“Oh yes! Here. So that we may continue to communicate during your mission.”
Gregory strapped it on, the screen flickering to life. He looked up at Freddy, who gave him a small, encouraging nod.
“Be careful, Superstar.”
Gregory swallowed hard, then climbed into the vent. Freddy watched him go, worry flickering in his LED eyes as the little body disappeared into the metal maze.
The vents were hotter than he expected. A narrow metal tunnel that amplified every scrape of his shoes and every shaky breath he took. The air tasted like dust and old wiring. His palms slid against the metal as he crawled, knees aching, heartbeat echoing back at him like a second set of footsteps.
He passed the first grate and froze.
Roxanne Wolf paced her room below, claws dragging across the floor in long, uneven arcs. Her voice glitched between sobs and self‑praise, like two recordings fighting for dominance.
“I’m the best— I’m the best— I’m the—”
Her voice cracked into a broken whine.
“Why can’t I do anything right…?”
Her ears twitched violently, her tail dragged, and her eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide like she was trapped in some internal nightmare.
Gregory swallowed hard and crawled on.
The next vent opening rattled as something slammed into the wall below. Gregory flinched, peering through the grate.
Monty was destroying everything.
Furniture splintered under his claws, busted lights flickered overhead, his tail whipped like a weapon, smashing into the wall again and again.
“WHERE IS HE—WHERE IS HE—WHERE—”
His voice glitched into static, then back into a guttural roar.
Gregory’s breath hitched and he crawled faster.
The third vent opening revealed Chica.
She was hunched over a pile of garbage, movements jerky and unnatural. Her head twitched with every bite, feathers frayed and eyes rolling in different directions. She looked like a zombie. A hungry, broken thing.
“Candy… candy… candy…” she muttered, voice distorted and wet.
Gregory’s skin crawled.
He didn’t stay long.
He crawled until the vent sloped downward, then dropped into a crouch behind a stack of boxes. He listened carefully…
Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. No animatronics.
He sprinted for the circular desk labeled CONVENIENCE.
His hands shook as he rummaged through drawers, knocking over pens, receipts, old wristbands. He could hear his own breathing bouncing off the walls until—
Finally, a photo pass.
He snatched it and bolted back toward Freddy’s room.
“Way to go, Superstar!”
Freddy cheered the moment Gregory appeared, “Now that I’m able to roam, we can take the security tunnels to the front lobby so that you may leave! It is the safest path. Now get in my stomach hatch and we can go.”
Gregory climbed in, curling against the cool metal. Freddy’s footsteps vibrated through the frame as he began to walk, each step a steady thump that soothed Gregory’s frayed nerves.
“Hey, Freddy?” Gregory whispered, “Is there a way to see what’s going on outside your stomach hatch?”
“Yes,” Freddy hummed, “I can connect myself to your Fazwatch. Then you can see what I see.”
A moment later, Freddy’s vision flickered onto the screen. Bright hallways, neon reflections, the steady bob of Freddy’s walk.
Gregory let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Thanks, Freddy…”
Gregory watched the world through Freddy’s eyes on the Fazwatch.
Hallways sliding past, neon lights reflecting off polished floors, the occasional flicker of a glitching camera feed.
He leaned his head back, letting the steady thump‑thump of Freddy’s walk lull him. His breathing slowed and his shoulders dropped. He had to jerk himself awake. He dug into his bag and pulled out a slice of cold pizza, nibbling at the crust as he watched Freddy descend a flight of stairs.
It almost felt normal.
Almost.
Then he heard her.
Vanessa’s voice drifted down the hallway, too close. Way too close. Gregory’s entire body seized. The pizza slipped from his fingers and his heart slammed against his ribs so hard it hurt.
“Freddy—Freddy, she’s here—” he whispered, voice cracking with fear.
Freddy’s voice came through the Fazwatch, calm but tense, “Do not worry, Gregory. She will not suspect that you are with me.”
But Gregory could already hear her footsteps getting closer.
Freddy hesitated, a tiny pause in his stride.
“However… if she does make me go back to my room… it might be better for you to hide elsewhere while I confront her.”
Gregory didn’t need to be told twice.
“O‑okay…” he breathed, already scrambling toward the hatch release.
The metal door popped open and he slid out, landing in a crouch.
His legs wobbled from being curled up so long, but adrenaline shoved him forward. He darted behind a thick velvet curtain just as Vanessa rounded the corner.
He held his breath.
Through the gap in the curtain, he saw her silhouette. The bounce of her ponytail, the swing of her flashlight, the too‑wide smile plastered across her face. She looked like she was enjoying this.
Freddy stopped walking.
“Officer Vanessa,” he greeted politely.
“Oh! Freddy!” she chirped, voice dripping with false cheer, “Have you seen a little boy running around? He’s lost. Poor thing must be terrified.”
Gregory bit down on his finger to keep from making a sound.
Freddy’s eyes flickered, a tiny glitch of unease, “No, Officer. I have not seen him.”
Vanessa leaned in closer, smile stretching unnaturally “Well, if you do see him… you’ll let me know, right? We wouldn’t want him getting hurt.”
Gregory’s stomach twisted. He could feel sweat dripping down his back.
Freddy hesitated again, longer this time. His voice was strained when he responded, “Yes. Of course.”
Vanessa hummed, satisfied, “Good. I’ll check your room on my way back. Maybe he wandered in there.”
She walked off, humming a cheerful tune that made Gregory’s skin crawl.
The moment she was out of sight, Gregory stumbled out from behind the curtain, shaking.
“See?” he whispered harshly, voice trembling, “She’s out to get me!”
Freddy turned toward him, and for the first time, Gregory saw something new in the animatronic’s expression. It wasn't mere concern anymore, it was almost something like anger, something protective.
Freddy knelt down, lowering his voice, “Do not worry, Gregory. I will not let her harm you.”
Gregory swallowed hard, throat tight.
Freddy straightened, posture shifting into something more purposeful, “We should be safe to move now that Vanessa does not suspect me. Let us be on our way.”
Gregory nodded, wiping his palms on his shorts. He climbed into the stomach hatch and they resumed their mission.
It wasn't even 5 minutes later when Freddy’s footsteps slowed, then stopped entirely.
Gregory felt the shift inside the stomach hatch. The sudden stillness and the way Freddy’s internal hum dipped into a low, uneasy buzz.
The hatch opened.
Freddy’s faceplate was dimmer than before, LED eyes flickering like dying candles.
“I’m… terribly sorry to tell you this, Gregory,” Freddy said, voice softer than usual, “but it appears my battery is draining much faster than it should be.”
Gregory’s stomach dropped.
“You… you’re shutting down?” he whispered.
Freddy nodded, shoulders slumping.
“You will need to finish this journey on your own. I will direct you the rest of the way on your Fazwatch while I recharge.”
Gregory bit his lip hard enough to taste copper.
Being alone again, after everything, made his skin crawl.
But he nodded anyway.
“O‑okay.”
Freddy gave him a small, apologetic smile before stepping into the recharge station. The door slid shut with a heavy mechanical clunk, leaving Gregory alone in the hallway.
The silence pressed in immediately.
He swallowed, forcing his feet to move.
One step.
Then another.
“Turn left at the next hallway,” Freddy’s voice crackled through the Fazwatch. Gregory obeyed, hugging the wall, trying to make himself small. His heartbeat was loud and thudding in his ears, a cacophony of sound that was difficult to listen over.
He turned the corner—
SLAM!!!
Something hit the wire gate behind him so hard the entire structure buckled inward. Gregory yelped, stumbling back as dust rained from the ceiling.
“There you are!!!”
Monty’s voice tore through the hallway like a chainsaw.
The gator’s claws punched through the metal grid, ripping it apart like wet paper. Sparks flew. Metal screeched. Monty’s glowing eyes locked onto Gregory with predatory hunger.
Gregory didn’t think.
He ran.
His legs moved before his brain caught up, sneakers slapping against the tile. His heartbeat drowned out Freddy’s voice, drowned out everything except the sound of Monty’s claws scraping the floor behind him.
“RUN GREGORY!” Freddy shouted through the Fazwatch, but Gregory barely heard it.
He sprinted past a stack of boxes—
Something exploded out of them.
“Lost boy over here~!” Chica singsonged, her voice warped and syrupy, like a broken lullaby.
Gregory screamed, stumbling backward as she lunged, fingers snapping inches from his shirt. He twisted away, nearly slipping, and bolted down the hall.
His lungs burned and his legs shook as his vision blurred at the edges.
He hit the stairs and took them two at a time, almost tripping as Monty snarled below and Chica cackled above. Their footsteps thundered after him, claws on metal, heavy animatronic weight shaking the entire staircase.
“FREDDY—FREDDY—” he gasped, voice cracking.
“Keep going, Gregory! You are almost to a safe room!”
He didn’t feel ‘almost safe'. He felt like prey.
He rounded a corner and spotted a room with metal doors. They were thick and reinforced, clearly emergency‑grade. He sprinted toward it, legs screaming, and threw himself inside.
He slammed the door shut.
A second later—
BOOM!!!
Monty hit the door so hard the hinges rattled, then Chica followed. Both of them were at the door now, pounding, clawing, and snarling.
Gregory backed away, chest heaving, tears burning behind his eyes.
“Freddy—Freddy what do I do! I’m trapped!” he choked out, voice shaking so badly the words barely formed.
He pressed his back to the cold metal wall, trying to force air into his lungs. His hands trembled violently and his throat tightened with a familiar lump.
Not now. Not now. Not now.
Survive now, cry later.
The pounding on the metal door didn’t stop.
It came in violent, uneven bursts. Claws scraping, metal denting, something snarling on the other side. Each hit rattled the entire room, making the lights flicker and Gregory’s breath stutter.
Freddy’s voice crackled through the Fazwatch, warm but strained.
“It’s alright, Gregory. You’re in a security office. These rooms are built to keep people safe during emergencies. The doors should stay locked… as long as the power holds.”
Gregory’s knees nearly buckled.
“Freddy,” he whispered, staring at the power meter on the wall, “the power is only at fifteen percent. Fifteen. And they’re— they’re still hitting the door—”
Another slam.
The metal bowed inward.
Gregory flinched so hard he dropped to a crouch, arms over his head, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He felt like he was shrinking, folding in on himself, the room closing in.
Freddy hummed, a low, thoughtful sound that didn’t match the panic clawing up Gregory’s spine, “Okay. We need to get you out of there before the power fails.”
Gregory swallowed hard, nodding even though Freddy couldn’t see him.
“I’m giving you access to the security systems.”
After a moments pause, the Fazwatch chimed softly.
“You should be able to see the cameras now.”
Gregory forced his shaking hands to swipe through the feeds.
Camera 1: Monty pacing like a caged animal, claws dragging sparks across the floor.
Camera 2: Chica tearing apart a trash bin, head twitching violently.
Camera 3: Roxy curled in a corner, glitching and muttering to herself.
Camera 4: An empty hallway.
Empty.
Gregory’s breath hitched, “There— there’s a path,” he whispered.
“Then take it,” Freddy urged gently, “Go now, while they’re distracted.”
Gregory slipped out the door the moment the pounding paused. His legs felt like jelly, but adrenaline shoved him forward. He ran, hugging the wall, ducking behind benches, weaving through shadows.
The main entrance came into view.
Hope bloomed in his chest, safety was right there.
He sprinted toward it—
And the metal shutters began to descend.
Slow at first, then faster.
Gregory tried to run faster, legs burning with the effort but it was no. The shutters finished there descent, slamming down with a final, echoing clang.
Gregory skidded to a halt, nearly falling to his knees.
“No—no no no—WAIT!” he shouted, slamming his hands against the metal, “I’m still here! I’m still here!”
The shutters didn’t care.
His heart plummeted into his stomach. He pressed his forehead against the cold metal, breath fogging the surface.
“What do I do… what do I do…” he whispered, voice cracking. He'd been through hell, and yet still, he'd never felt more helpless.
Freddy’s voice softened, almost mournful, “Gregory… I’m so sorry. We’ll have to find another way out.”
Gregory squeezed his eyes shut.
“I’ll help you,” Freddy continued, “I promise you, I will help you as much as I can.”
Gregory pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, trying to force back the sting of tears. His chest still felt tight from running, from screaming, from thinking he was about to die. The shuttered entrance loomed behind him like a sealed tomb.
“Another way,” he echoed, voice thin.
“Yes,” Freddy said gently, “You need to get into the main pizzeria. There should be a complimentary entry pass near the front area. Look around, people often leave things behind.”
Gregory dragged in a shaky breath and forced himself to move. His legs felt like rubber, but he pushed forward, scanning benches, tables, trash bins.
Every shadow made him flinch. Every distant clank made his heart spike.
He rifled through an abandoned party bag, stale confetti, a crumpled napkin, a cheap plastic toy, and finally, a laminated pass.
“There,” he whispered, clutching it like it was a lifeline. He swiped it at the gate and the lock clicked open. He slipped into the lobby, shoulders sagging with relief.
Freddy’s voice brightened a little, “Good job, Gregory. You’re doing very well.”
Gregory didn’t feel like he was doing well. He felt like he was barely holding himself together.
Freddy continued, “To get deeper into the pizzeria, you’ll need to upgrade that pass. The customer service desk should have a machine for that.”
Gregory nodded to himself and took off, weaving between patrolling security bots. Their mechanical chirps made his skin crawl, too close to the animatronics that had just tried to tear him apart.
He reached the customer service counter and found the upgrade machine tucked behind a stack of old brochures. His hands trembled as he fed the pass into the slot.
The machine whirred, beeped, then flashed a harsh red error.
“No—no no no—” he muttered, slamming his palm against the side, “Freddy, it ate my pass!”
His voice cracked on the last word. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or cry.
Maybe both.
Freddy hesitated before speaking again, his voice softer than before, “Gregory… I know this is frustrating, but the machine isn’t responding properly. We may need to improvise.”
Gregory dragged a hand down his face, “Improvise how? It ate my pass, Freddy.”
“There might be something nearby that can help,” Freddy said gently, “Glam Rock Gifts is close. People leave all sorts of things behind there. Broken toys, old souvenirs… sometimes useful odds and ends. It cannot hurt to check.”
Gregory let out a shaky breath and forced himself to move. His legs felt heavy, like he was wading through water. The adrenaline from the chase had burned off, leaving him drained and shaky.
He slipped into Glam Rock Gifts, the neon lights flickering overhead. The place looked like a tornado had hit it. Shelves knocked over, plushies scattered across the floor, glitter everywhere. He rummaged through a pile of gift boxes, hands trembling.
Finally, he found a small wrapped present.
He tore it open.
“…A Mr. Hippo magnet?” he muttered, staring at the cheap plastic face, “Seriously? This thing sucks. How is this supposed to help?”
Freddy hummed thoughtfully, “I know it doesn’t look impressive, Gregory… but the magnet itself might interfere with the machine’s mechanisms. It’s worth trying.”
Gregory sighed, a long, exhausted sound, and trudged back to the customer service counter. He slapped the magnet onto the front of the machine.
The screen flickered, glitching and sputtered—
Then spat out a new card.
Gregory snatched it up, hope flickering in his chest, only for it to die instantly when he read the text.
“…A daycare pass?” he groaned, “Are you kidding me? I don’t want to go to the daycare!”
He dropped onto the floor, legs giving out. His shoulders slumped forward, head hanging. He felt the burn of tears behind his eyes from sheer exhaustion and frustration.
Freddy’s voice softened even further, “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but this is progress, Gregory. I can meet you in the daycare now.”
Gregory didn’t respond.
Freddy continued, more cautiously, “But… please be careful. There is a daycare attendant animatronic. I do not know if he is affected like the others. I would feel better if I were with you.”
Gregory chewed on his lip, staring at the pass in his hands.
At this rate, it felt like he was never going to make it out of this place. Every time he got close, something else slammed shut in his face. He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Yeah,” he whispered, “Okay. Daycare.”
He didn’t sound convinced.
But he kept moving.
He had to.