Toby knew he had a problem.
He'd read multiple books on the psyche of addicts, and most of the suckers didn't know they were addicted. But Toby did. Ergo, it could not be classified as an addiction.
Yet a part of him, the smart part, knew that an addiction was exactly what it was. He knew he was better off without gambling, and that it could come between him and everyone he cared about but he couldn't stop. He couldn't bring himself to. Gambling was the one release he had in life. When things got bad for him, he would turn to the tables because he knew he would be able to read the players. However, by that time, Toby was usually extremely upset about something and that affected his ability to think clearly.
The entire cyclone had, in turn, asked him to stop. Begged even. All except for Happy.
Toby spent way too much time thinking about why Happy had never confronted him about his bad habit. The answer was simple: she didn't care enough to ask him to stop. Or she didn't think he could. Whatever the reason, there would be no good one.
The next morning, Toby entered the garage with a black eye and a limp. He had considered not going to work at all but realistically he knew he was needed there.
Paige was the first to see him. She rushed over and ushered him to the sofa.
"Relax, momma bear," Toby reassured Paige. "I have a black eye, not a concussion." Soon the whole cyclone was clustered around Toby.
"You go out gambling?" Happy asked in a monotone. Toby nodded and looked down. He couldn't stand to look in her eyes and see the blankness there. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he wagered a glance at her face.
Her eyes were disappointed and the corners of her small mouth were turned down. This confused Toby. Surely she wouldn't be disappointed if she felt nothing for him. Just as he dared to hope again, Walter spoke up.
"Well, it's his own fault. Toby, you're a genius. You know what happens each time you gamble. It's not healthy for you."
Toby looked at his hands. He felt like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. After Walter's tirade was finished, Toby stood up and looked his friends in the eye. "I know what the consequences of my actions are while I perform them. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have work that needs to be done." He walked off, with a badly concealed limp, to his work station.
Admittedly, Toby didn't have any work he planned to do. He found a book on his desk on addictions and decided to do some research.
Halfway through the first chapter, he noticed Happy started walking to his desk. He kept his eyes on the print as if he hadn't seen her.
She stopped at his desk and cleared her throat. He looked up and started smiling. When he saw the look on her face, the smile disappeared from his face.
"What's wrong, Happy?"
Happy gestured for him to stand and follow her. He did, surprised. Once she got to the roof she closed the door behind them.
Toby had started worrying by now. He had never seen Happy so sombre. She spun on her heel and he found himself nose-to-nose with her.
Her eyebrows here drawn and the line between them had grown considerably deeper since the last time he saw her. Toby was tempted to reach out and smooth her soft skin out but caught his hand just in time. Instead, he repositioned his hat.
"You wanted to speak with me?" Toby prompted.
Happy nodded but didn't speak. She searched his eyes, then looked at the skyline, and back at his eyes again. Toby waited, patiently. He could tell what she was going to say next would be important to her.
"Look, Toby. We're friends, right?" She said, softly, almost as if she were afraid someone would hear her.
Toby deflated. How could she not see what he felt for her? He assumed he was as transparent as glass, and he didn't want to come across as desperate.
Toby remembered Happy's question and nodded.
"Good." She said and bit her lip. "Then you'll know that I mean what I'm going to say next. I think you should stop gambling."
Never before had Toby seen her eyes so sincere. She had stopped looking around or showing any nervous ticks, and instead was looking him straight in the eye.
"I know you think you need it, but you don't. You don't need to burn yourself out, you don't need to put yourself in danger like that and you certainly don't need to make us worry like you usually do. You need to come to your senses and I'm going to help you. You don't have to live like this anymore." Happy spoke fast, as though the words were choking themselves in the hurry to get out of her throat. Her eyes were shining.
Toby knew he should apologise. Say something, anything. But he couldn't bring himself to break the moment, to look away from her.
The bright sunset cast a halo around Happy's head and he knew he would be able to do this. If not for himself, then for her.
And as they walked back into the garage, back to their normal lives, he couldn't help but think that maybe she did care after all.