"Oh," Foxy says, "uh, I mean, arrr, laddie! Ye seem to have lost yer way!"

The old animatronic leans in toward you. "What's a strappin' young lad like yerself doin' in me humble, uh..." he looks around, "...pizzeria after hours?" he finishes lamely.

He shakes himself. "Nevermind that, laddie..." A hungry glint shines in his single eye, the one not covered with an eyepatch. "Pray tell, are ye here lookin' for some...." He waggles his eyebrows, leers at you, "...relief? Of the oral persuasion, perhaps?"