Foxy woke up to the sharp rapping of knuckles against his bedroom door. Short, rhythmic knocks. They weren't very loud, but they still woke him up. He was a light sleeper.

He opened his eyes slowly, groaning slightly into the blanket that was draped haphazardly over his body. "What?" he mumbled, voice dragging with his tiredness.

The voice that responded from the other side of the door was laced with a heavy accent. French. "Just thought I would let you know that everyone else is already up. They're all downstairs. I don't think your alarm went off."

Foxy pushed himself up into a sitting position, attempting to get his long hair out of his face. "Okay. Thanks, Bal. I'll be down in a minute."

He waited until the dancer's light footsteps completely faded before actually bothering to get out of bed.

He put his hair into a sloppy ponytail, put on socks because the floor was frigid, and tried to halfheartedly rub the lipstick off of his face from yesterday before deciding that was good enough for the current moment.

He exited his room and trudged downstairs to the kitchen, where, as Ballora said, everyone was. They were all seated around the old, crappy fold-out table they had.

Ballora was sat furthest away from the door, gently stabbing her food with a fork as her unseeing eyes stared absentmindedly at the wall.

Freddy was sat beside her and was seemingly the only one wide awake. He was busy eating some sugary cereal that was more than likely to make him more hyper than he already was, splashing milk everywhere, and being sloppy in general.

Bon-Bon was resting on the table next to him, milk and bits of cereal on his muzzle. Freddy had probably shoved the puppet's face into his bowl a few times.

And then there was Baby, sitting at the end of the table with her stupidly rigid posture. She never actually ate breakfast with them for whatever reason. She just drank coffee, which never seemed to actually succeed in waking her up since she always looked tired.

Her eyes were trained on the janky old TV they had placed the kitchen counter, which was playing the news. But Foxy couldn't tell if she was actually watching it or not.

"Hey, guys." He went to grab the bread so he could make toast. He couldn't be bothered to make anything more complicated than toast.

"H-heya!"

"Hello."

"Hey, Fox."

"Dear Scott, please help me."

Freddy dunked Bon-Bon back into his cereal. Poor soul.

"In other news today, a woman was found dead behind a diner on Lilygear and —"

"Geez, there's been a lot of murders on the news lately, huh?"

"I suppose so. But there's always been a lot of murders around here, has there not?" Ballora asked.

"Yeah, but there hasn't been this many in a while," Baby muttered.

"Can we put on c-cartoons instead?"

"Sure, Fred." Baby got up and switched to a channel that was playing 'Fredbear and Friends'.

"Yay!"

Foxy grabbed his toast and took a seat.

"By the way, we're supposed to get a shipment after we close. Fred, Fox, I want you two to carry the boxes to the storage room in the basement."

"Yes! I love c-carrying stuff!"

"You're really weird, Fredward."

"Stop b-bullying me, Bon-Bon!"

Foxy choked on his toast a little. "Wait, you want us to take it into the basement storage room?"

"Yeah, that's literally what I just said," Baby replied rather flatly.

"Can't you or Bal do it instead of me?"

"No, Lor and I have to deal with the parents of that kid who broke their wrist here last week. Even though it was the kid's fault for disregarding every rule we have, and the parent's fault for not telling him to stop."

"I really don't want to go down there."

"Wh-why not?"

"There's nothing down there, Fox. I've been in there loads of times. The only thing down there is boxes and Fred's Pog collection."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Foxy still didn't want to go down there, but he supposed that he'd have to.

Shit.