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Description
Another illustration for Bonded Year2 from Littleamberamethyst, a shifty social worker pays Mcgucket a visit to ask questions about Bill.
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At first he didn't hear the knocking. The second time he figured he was once again suffering from side effects of prolonged use of the memory gun. The third knock sounded like someone about ready to ram his door. Fiddleford placed the headband back on its holders then hopped to the front door.

"Can I help you?" Fiddleford asked as he greeted yet another stranger.

Ever since his inventions made him an overnight millionaire, people from every charity and organization in the state flocked to his doorstep. Even worse numerous women were suddenly interested in dating his son. The constant attention from other women caused Rachel to break up with him. He hated thinking how once again he possibly ruined Tate's life.

"Fiddleford McGucket?" the woman asked. Fiddleford nodded and she invited herself inside. The old man followed after and beckoned for her to take a seat in the small living room.

"I can make ya some tea," Fiddleford offered.

"Thank you for the kind offer, but no," she said and crossed her legs. "I'm here on official business, and won't take up much of your time."

McGucket hopped on one of the chairs. Thus far her conversation hadn't been that different from the others trying to swindle money from him.

"My name is Dr. Caroline Avery, I am with social services, and I have some questions about your colleagues: Stanford Pines and Bill Cipher," she stated.

"Go on," Fiddleford said. A few days ago Ford telephoned him to warn about that very same social worker. He confessed the lie he and Bill made up about working for McGucket to which he agreed to go along with.

"Mr. Pines said to me that he works with you, is that correct?" Caroline asked.

"Absolutely, one of the best werkers I ever met," Fiddleford answered.

"Is it true you two used to work together back in the late seventies, early eighties?" Avery inquired.

"Sure did," Fiddleford responded, although it pulled at his stomach how she found that bit of information out. What more he wondered what his work with Ford had to do with social services.

"So it's safe to say you know your colleague fairly well?" the doctor asked.

"We've been friends for a long time."

"How would you describe his temperament?"

"Good. Rarely gets angry." Fiddleford adjusted himself in the chair. "Act'ly I used a have anixety real bad, and Stanford tried a showed me some techniques ta help."

"Tried?" Caroline asked. She wiggled her foot over her knee. "So it didn't help?"

"No," Fiddleford answered.

Caroline adjusted her glasses. She placed the notebook and pen down on the sidetable. "Tell me, Mr. McGucket," she said and folded her hands atop her knee all the while her foot shook. "What did you have to be so nervous about?"

"Don't know," Fiddleford said. "Guess some people are."

"Were you working towards a deadline?" Caroline probed.

"Can't 'member, it's all fuzzy," Fiddleford said and scratched at the bald spot atop his head. "My mem'ries not what it used a be, I'm afraid."

Avery frowned, but was not going to let the excuse of an aged memory stop her. "Was it something to do with what you were researching that caused your anxiety?" she asked.

"Can't say."

Avery placed both feet on the floor then clamped her hands around her kneecaps. "There's no record of you ever seeking medical attention for your disorder," she stated. "If your anxiety was as bad as you say, then why wouldn't you see a doctor?" Fiddleford went quiet. "Couldn't afford it?" She grinned. "Or something you couldn't confess even to a professional?"

Fiddleford stayed quiet.

"It's a shame what happened to you, Mr. McGucket," Caroline said with a hum. "I heard throughout town how something in the eighties cost you your sanity for a good amount of time." She leaned in close to the inventor's face. "I wonder...what could be so terrifying, so shocking, so traumatizing to cause that kind of damage?"

"That's personal," Fiddleford replied after a short pause. He narrowed his eyes. Caroline frowned, it hadn't been the answer she expected. The old man continued, "Besides, what's any a this gotta do with Stanford?"

Caroline was taken aback. From what she heard around town from those who knew Fiddleford McGucket, she had not expected him to take offense of any kind.

"Mr. McGucket, please," she tried.

"No, you said you had questions 'bout Stanford and Bill, but you seem more concerned 'bout my mental wellfare," Fiddleford answered. "If ya must know, I don't 'member much after my divorce, and it wasn't 'til me and Tate recently reconciled that he got me the help I needed."

Caroline seethed. She took a deep breath and reminded herself why she sought out the elderly man in the first place.

"You are correct, Mr. McGucket, I apologize," Caroline said. She pushed the frames of her glasses against her face. "I shouldn't have asked you. I mainly want to know what kind of work you do?"

The question baffled Fiddleford, but he still answered. "I'm an engineer." For someone who sure knew a good deal about him it didn't make sense she seemed to not know of his recent success.

"And is your work dangerous?" Avery asked.

"Kinda, I could get hurt if I ain't careful."

"Is that how Bill acquired his injuries?" Avery asked.

Fiddleford hesitated. Ford had not told him the entire story surrounding Bill's case. What more he wasn't sure if she was trying to mislead him with a false testament. The doctor's foot shook at an alarming rate confident that she caught him in a lie.

"It was an accident," he said, hoping he made the correct decision. He watched Caroline's grin fade, and he continued, "He wasn't careful and he got hurt."

"I see," Caroline said. She picked up her notebook then tucked the pen in the bun in the back of her head. Fiddleford stood beside her. She stared at the engineer. "May I take a look at the laboratory?"

"Sorry, I ain't gonna let ya see my unfinished werk," Fiddleford said.

"Mr. McGucket this can be imperative to my case," Caroline protested. "You'll be helping Bill."

"How can I be sure ya ain't gonna leak my invention?" Fiddleford retorted. "You wanna see it, then ya gotta get yerself a proper warrant."

Caroline Avery sighed. She had hoped McGucket would provide her with the next clue she needed, but once again Ford proved to have loyal allies.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. McGucket," Avery said. She slipped him a business card. "If there's anything more you wish to share with me, give me a call."

With that she made her exit from the McGucket residence. Fiddleford watched her leave from his window. Fortunately Tate had not come home in the middle of the interrogation.

Description
Another illustration for Bonded Year2 from Littleamberamethyst, a shifty social worker pays Mcgucket a visit to ask questions about Bill.
-----------------------
At first he didn't hear the knocking. The second time he figured he was once again suffering from side effects of prolonged use of the memory gun. The third knock sounded like someone about ready to ram his door. Fiddleford placed the headband back on its holders then hopped to the front door.

"Can I help you?" Fiddleford asked as he greeted yet another stranger.

Ever since his inventions made him an overnight millionaire, people from every charity and organization in the state flocked to his doorstep. Even worse numerous women were suddenly interested in dating his son. The constant attention from other women caused Rachel to break up with him. He hated thinking how once again he possibly ruined Tate's life.

"Fiddleford McGucket?" the woman asked. Fiddleford nodded and she invited herself inside. The old man followed after and beckoned for her to take a seat in the small living room.

"I can make ya some tea," Fiddleford offered.

"Thank you for the kind offer, but no," she said and crossed her legs. "I'm here on official business, and won't take up much of your time."

McGucket hopped on one of the chairs. Thus far her conversation hadn't been that different from the others trying to swindle money from him.

"My name is Dr. Caroline Avery, I am with social services, and I have some questions about your colleagues: Stanford Pines and Bill Cipher," she stated.

"Go on," Fiddleford said. A few days ago Ford telephoned him to warn about that very same social worker. He confessed the lie he and Bill made up about working for McGucket to which he agreed to go along with.

"Mr. Pines said to me that he works with you, is that correct?" Caroline asked.

"Absolutely, one of the best werkers I ever met," Fiddleford answered.

"Is it true you two used to work together back in the late seventies, early eighties?" Avery inquired.

"Sure did," Fiddleford responded, although it pulled at his stomach how she found that bit of information out. What more he wondered what his work with Ford had to do with social services.

"So it's safe to say you know your colleague fairly well?" the doctor asked.

"We've been friends for a long time."

"How would you describe his temperament?"

"Good. Rarely gets angry." Fiddleford adjusted himself in the chair. "Act'ly I used a have anixety real bad, and Stanford tried a showed me some techniques ta help."

"Tried?" Caroline asked. She wiggled her foot over her knee. "So it didn't help?"

"No," Fiddleford answered.

Caroline adjusted her glasses. She placed the notebook and pen down on the sidetable. "Tell me, Mr. McGucket," she said and folded her hands atop her knee all the while her foot shook. "What did you have to be so nervous about?"

"Don't know," Fiddleford said. "Guess some people are."

"Were you working towards a deadline?" Caroline probed.

"Can't 'member, it's all fuzzy," Fiddleford said and scratched at the bald spot atop his head. "My mem'ries not what it used a be, I'm afraid."

Avery frowned, but was not going to let the excuse of an aged memory stop her. "Was it something to do with what you were researching that caused your anxiety?" she asked.

"Can't say."

Avery placed both feet on the floor then clamped her hands around her kneecaps. "There's no record of you ever seeking medical attention for your disorder," she stated. "If your anxiety was as bad as you say, then why wouldn't you see a doctor?" Fiddleford went quiet. "Couldn't afford it?" She grinned. "Or something you couldn't confess even to a professional?"

Fiddleford stayed quiet.

"It's a shame what happened to you, Mr. McGucket," Caroline said with a hum. "I heard throughout town how something in the eighties cost you your sanity for a good amount of time." She leaned in close to the inventor's face. "I wonder...what could be so terrifying, so shocking, so traumatizing to cause that kind of damage?"

"That's personal," Fiddleford replied after a short pause. He narrowed his eyes. Caroline frowned, it hadn't been the answer she expected. The old man continued, "Besides, what's any a this gotta do with Stanford?"

Caroline was taken aback. From what she heard around town from those who knew Fiddleford McGucket, she had not expected him to take offense of any kind.

"Mr. McGucket, please," she tried.

"No, you said you had questions 'bout Stanford and Bill, but you seem more concerned 'bout my mental wellfare," Fiddleford answered. "If ya must know, I don't 'member much after my divorce, and it wasn't 'til me and Tate recently reconciled that he got me the help I needed."

Caroline seethed. She took a deep breath and reminded herself why she sought out the elderly man in the first place.

"You are correct, Mr. McGucket, I apologize," Caroline said. She pushed the frames of her glasses against her face. "I shouldn't have asked you. I mainly want to know what kind of work you do?"

The question baffled Fiddleford, but he still answered. "I'm an engineer." For someone who sure knew a good deal about him it didn't make sense she seemed to not know of his recent success.

"And is your work dangerous?" Avery asked.

"Kinda, I could get hurt if I ain't careful."

"Is that how Bill acquired his injuries?" Avery asked.

Fiddleford hesitated. Ford had not told him the entire story surrounding Bill's case. What more he wasn't sure if she was trying to mislead him with a false testament. The doctor's foot shook at an alarming rate confident that she caught him in a lie.

"It was an accident," he said, hoping he made the correct decision. He watched Caroline's grin fade, and he continued, "He wasn't careful and he got hurt."

"I see," Caroline said. She picked up her notebook then tucked the pen in the bun in the back of her head. Fiddleford stood beside her. She stared at the engineer. "May I take a look at the laboratory?"

"Sorry, I ain't gonna let ya see my unfinished werk," Fiddleford said.

"Mr. McGucket this can be imperative to my case," Caroline protested. "You'll be helping Bill."

"How can I be sure ya ain't gonna leak my invention?" Fiddleford retorted. "You wanna see it, then ya gotta get yerself a proper warrant."

Caroline Avery sighed. She had hoped McGucket would provide her with the next clue she needed, but once again Ford proved to have loyal allies.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. McGucket," Avery said. She slipped him a business card. "If there's anything more you wish to share with me, give me a call."

With that she made her exit from the McGucket residence. Fiddleford watched her leave from his window. Fortunately Tate had not come home in the middle of the interrogation.