Fredrica's ch2 pt3

In the next few hours, you were lucky to finally catch Mama herself doing her act or three. They were all very much classical sorts of affairs, a fact that was apparent to even you with your highly limited knowledge of the art of burlesque. In her first entrance onto the stage, the curtain opened, and in her hands were two huge, white feathered fans. As she danced, she always remained decent via them, fanning them about and teasing as she stripped. Her level of professionalism was quite apparent. Somehow, no matter how provocative it got, there was always a certain air of class about her. The feelings you felt stir up in you from her acts were your most shameful ones of the night. Then there was the bubble popping act, which just about threw your brain into a fit. You needed to get up and walk around, and maybe dunk your head in a sink of cold water. You got up and grabbed your trusty flashlight. You hadn’t done a walk around security check yet, so now was as good of a time as any.

You walked backstage, strolling along and getting some blood back into your legs. You poked your head into a storeroom for a moment, then paused. You could have sworn you heard soft singing. Curious, you decided to investigate. You creep in slowly as to not make a sound with your bootfalls. The room was filled with surplus props and costumes and sets, some of them looking pretty ancient.

As you got deeper, the singing was a little louder. Around a corner, you saw a little light on, like a single bulb. You snuck a quick peek. In the middle of the room was Bonnie. She appeared to be wearing one of Chica’s gaudy outfits. It was quite a bit loose fitting in the chest region, the fabric drooped and showing more than a little of her small, but perky cleavage. Just the opposite was the case for her hips, their width pulling the fabric rather taught, just a step below it staining on the seams. She had a spare, unplugged microphone, and was singing one of the songs you had heard earlier from the owner of that dress. You had to admit, while Chica had a nice voice, Bonnie’s was just… gorgeous. You get lost in her little act as she inches the shoulders of the dress off. With barely a bust to catch it, the top half of the entire dress falls down, gathering at her waist. You had wondered if the robots here had nipples, and now you had your answer. The answer was yes. Embarrassed by the behavior of her wardrobe, she quickly snatched the top hem and pulled it back up.

You were about to leave when your clumsy foot knocked over a large metal bucket on the floor, prompting the rabbit to squeak in surprise and hide. You decided it was time to come clean. You step out of the shadows. “It’s okay, it’s just me.” You say in her direction. You see an ear and a large pink eye peek out from her hiding spot.

Very softly she mumbles, “M-mike?” You nod and she steps out. Both hands are clinging to her dress top still, tighter than ever. She doesn’t meet your eyes. “D-dont… Don’t tell Chica… I-i’ll put it back right now..”

You come closer and she scoots back a little, prompting you to stop. “No, it’s okay, I’m sure she won’t mind, I won’t tell her.” Maybe changing the topic would help calm her down, “H-hey, you… You have a really nice singing voice.”

She looks directly at you, a glow of a blush on her face. “N-no… It’s not that good… I-”

You will not stand for this adorable robot not accepting a nice compliment. “Don’t put yourself down, I’m being honest! Heck,” You lower your voice a little, “I think you’re better than Chica.” Her ears perk up and her eyes brighten a little.

“You… You really think that..?” A little smile forms on her face.

You nod enthusiastically, “Yeah, you’d really knock em dead on stage!”

Her smile droops suddenly into a frown. Looks like you hit a sore point. “No.. No… people…. P-people don’t want to see me on stage.” Her eyes drift from you again.

You move closer to her, and she doesn’t recoil. You’re frowning now too. “Why would you think that?” you ask.

Bonnie looks back up at you, her mouth wibbling a little as she clenches the fabric in her hands a little more. She stays quiet for a few beats, then softly talks, “B-before I came here… I… I was in a band and it m-made lots of people happy… But something inside of me broke and got stuck and… And I couldn’t move my a-arms and b-body anymore. No one wanted to fix me… b-but they still kept me on s-stage. Everyone else could move, but I was j-just… s-ss-stuck there… People got mad and yelled that I was ruining the show, b--but I couldn’t help it.. I wanted to move for them… I.. I wanted to make them happy… But… All the mean things they said.. a--and s-stuff they threw a-at me….” You had no idea mechanically how, but tears were dribbling down her furred cheeks. She brought up a paw and wiped at them.

Thinking on the fly, you put an arm around her shoulders. She doesn’t pull away, and instead pulls in, crying into your shoulder. You pat her a few times and she continues, muffled by your shirt. “I k-know I’m h-here to dance and sing and I… I don’t wanna disappoint Mama…” She trails off, her little sobs making your heart goddamn break.

You add in your other arm and make this into a hug. This seems like a hugging kind of a situation. “Mama still loves you I’m sure, no matter what you do. I mean, she’s really nice and understanding,” Bonnie’s arms go around you, clinging tightly. You pat her a couple more times. “I’ve been through a lot too.”

She was calming down. A minute or two passed, and the hug remained resilient. You just keep your arms around her, petting her back comfortingly while the sadness dissipates. Her crying stops, and she just lets you hold her. Eventually she speaks, “M-mike… I’m sorry…”

“No, I understand how it is sometimes. Sometimes you just have to cry it out.” She give a little smile at how kind you are, and you can’t help but flush a little. She parts from you and is about to say something, when she suddenly catches that her arms, which had been hugging you, were no longer holding the fabric that was covering up her top half. Her eyes look alarmed as she throws her arms over her chest.

The bunny cries out a “S-SORRY” before bolting away, the crashing of her bumping into things following her out of the store room.

You stand there for a second, thinking about the moment you two had shared. Your brain concludes ‘sad but adorable’ as the proper description for it. If there’s anything you need to accomplish at this job, it’s getting that robot the stage recognition and confidence she deserves. After all, it’s a matter of family now, right? Satisfied by that little shot of determination to your system, you head on your way to finish your patrol.