[#265] Dave's Devilishly Dubious Discreetness (Dayshift At Freddy's)

[mwahjericao]

Theme Prompt: #265 - Trickster
Title: Dave's Devilishly Dubious Discreetness
Fandom: Dayshift At Freddy's
Rating/Warnings: PG, stalking.
Bonus: No
Word Count: 448
Summary: You couldn’t possibly not see him when he was in the room. It’s hard to ignore a 7 foot tall, scrawny, purple zombie, with a malleable neck and very visible scars on top of all that. That, however, never stopped him from being the sneakiest guy Jack knew.

Dave was... an interesting guy, to say the least.

You couldn’t possibly not see him when he was in the room. It’s hard to ignore a 7 foot tall, scrawny, purple zombie, with a malleable neck and very visible scars on top of all that. He wasn’t the quiet type, too; He made sure to be known when he wanted to, that loud voice of his annoying the ever loving shit out of everyone near. That, however, never stopped him from being the sneakiest guy Jack knew.

Being the most eye-catching thing in a room somehow never meant he got caught when stealing wallets or breaking security cameras, the only thing that gave him away being the occasional buffalo sauce he always left at the crime scene. It was a curious case; How a being that no person could ever ignore still managed to go unnoticed while dragging a body into the dumpster.

His thoughts tonight were especially provoked by the fact he managed to spot a whole ass camera installed into his ceiling, directly pointing at his bed. He did know that Dave liked to break into his house occasionally, to use his shower or eat some stale bagels (or stare at Jack while he slept with that creepy smile of his, for some reason), but he did not expect… this.

Surely, installing cameras on his house would make at least some type of noise to wake him up. Jack would understand why he didn’t hear anything if it was one of these small, detachable cameras, but no. This thing seemed like it was the actual professional stuff, discreet, but still directly attached to the corner of his ceiling.

He could try and ask Dave, Dude, why the fuck are there cameras in my bedroom, or even just break the thing with the old hammer he kept underneath his bed. Jack knew, however, that none of it would matter. Questioning Dave about it would only make him grin and say something like ‘I dunno whatchu’ talking about, old sport!’, and smashing it would only lead to another camera, more discreet perhaps, getting put somewhere else in his room.

If you asked the Jack of 1971 what he’d do upon finding out someone was watching him sleep, he’d probably answer along the lines of ‘call the police’ or ‘kill the guy’. He’d certainly be shocked that the present Jack opted for simply checking twice he locked the front door and going to sleep.

When Jack woke up, he looked the camera spot again, only to find out it had been moved, not leaving a single trace of its existence behind. Huh.

Dave was a fascinatingly weird creature, alright.