Finding The Five || FNAF Movie

7 || One-Man Show

(Unedited, 3657 words)
Trigger Warning: I don't think there's any but feel free to correct me

"Here, take a left here," I say, catching sight of the road a little late. Jonah sighs and hums as he makes the questionable turn with somewhat of a practiced ease. "Mike said they're the sixth or seventh house, so I guess just find the one that has a colored mailbox." My eyes scan the road, trying to count ahead and search for the mailbox.

"Aww, that's cute. A good lure for the kids, too," Jonah mutters, still stubborn in his belief that Mike's a criminal. At this point, I can't tell if he's joking or serious. His emotions on the matter are mixed: half of him believes the things he says, and the other half is completely joking. I can't tell if the two halves are arguing or just coexisting, and it annoys me. Regardless, this is one of the emotions that can't influence me because I know for a fact it's wrong. Which doesn't happen often, I'd like to add.

"Stop," I hiss, lightly backhanding his shoulder. "He has a little sister, not an army of children in his basement."

"How do you know she's not just model of the month?" he asks quietly, and I have to stop myself before I laugh. 

No matter how wrong I know he is, it's still a little funny how far he'll go to prove his point.

"You have to stop," I beg, shaking my head while trying to suppress a smile. He mocks me, then points out the mailbox and slows down for the turn. "So, when we go in, I'm going to introduce you and then we'll explain the other location, does that sound alright?"

"Sounds good to me," Jonah replies, turning into the driveway and parking at the edge of it, just behind the same car I climbed into late yesterday afternoon. "Reach back and grab those newspapers from the backseat, will you?"

"Is there anything I shouldn't see back here?" I ask as I turn around and reach for the papers sitting behind his chair, both on the bench backseat and scattered across the floor. The rest of his car is a complete mess, as I expected, but the newspapers are settled on top of the chaos. The light grey color sharply contrasts with the concerning mix of hues the rest of the car is streaked in. 

"I think the worst things back there are an unopened pack of condoms and an empty pack of cigarettes," Jonah replies, and I can't help but snicker even though I don't see them. "What?" He asks this defensively even though I can feel the smile fighting its way onto his lips. 

"I don't know which is more depressing," I tease, handing him the papers as he mocks me again and snatches them away. "Are they— well, I guess were they— your cigarettes?"

"Hell no. Do you know what Carter would do to me if I smoked?" He asks, turning the car off and taking the key out of the ignition. Less than a second later, he mumbles, "Not to answer my own question or anything, but he'd probably kill me."

"You know, that's fair," I mumble, opening my bag for him and letting him haphazardly stuff the newspapers into it. I zip my bag up once he's done, and then waste no time in climbing out and fighting with the back until it gets onto my back. I close the passenger side door and wait for Jonah to join me on this side. 

"You first, madame," he teases, putting his French I class to work. He's probably slept through every lesson, but he still knows enough to toss a word or two in every now and then. Not to mention his tendency to whip out complex sentences (meaning four or five words randomly strung together) when a cute guy comes into the pet shop. 

I lead him down the little walkway that connects the driveway to the front porch, already looking for the doorbell. 

But just as I stretch my foot out to step onto the porch, I stop. Before I can stop them, worried thoughts fill my head.