Toby POV
As hard as I tried not to let Happy distract me, my eyes kept following her.
In my mind, I sincerely felt that Happy Quinn was as close to perfection as any human being could possibly get.
She was smart, witty, funny, and she was a bad-ass. Sure she had her flaws, that's what made her human. She didn't take any shit from me or anyone else and that was one of the many reasons why I was attracted to Happy Quinn like a moth to a flame. When she was angry at me, I was scared as hell but instead of showing fear, I turned into an asshole.
Watching her work, especially when she was dealing with something highly delicate was impressive to say the least. I could psychoanalyze her all I wanted, but after a while, it felt wrong to do something as mundane and rudimentary as learning about her via her body language. Happy deserved more than that and I needed to prove it to her.
I realized about four months ago that if I wanted a shot with her, I'd have to talk to her like a normal person, as Paige was always suggesting that we do when we're working with clients.
That was why I had prepared for this day for the longest time. I plucked up my courage (because yes, even I get uneasy about talking to Happy) and tried to talk to her.
She was hammering away at some piece of heated metal and she was slowly shaping it into something.
"Hey Happy, what are you working on?", I asked, tentatively approaching her work space as I twirled my hat between my hands.
Happy shrugged.
"Just a part that Walter needs for the rocket...", she said as she put the part into a vat of cold water for a moment where it made a hiss and sent up a cloud of steam before pulling it out and setting it off to the side on a towel, "What's up doc?", she asked, giving me her full attention.
Well, no turning back now.
"I was wondering if you wanted to run out for a bite to eat... because Sly and Walter are over at the hospital visiting Megan and they said they'd get food on the way back. Paige and Ralph are out going shopping for clothes so they're probably going to pick up some food while they're out. We have food in the fridge but I'm not the best cook unless you count ramen noodles...", I rambled.
Well, at least she won't think it's a date.
Happy sent me this look that asked if I was serious.
"Are you being serious?", she asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
"I'm being completely serious.", I said.
Happy shrugged before cleaning up and pulling off her protective gear. She grabbed her leather jacket and her messenger bag.
"Well, c'mon doc, that food won't get itself. Besides, you owe me ten bucks..."
"That's why I'm going to pay for whatever you choose to get... Where do you want to go?", I asked and slid into the passenger's seat of her car.
"I haven't had Chipotle in a while...", she mused.
We rode in silence for a minute or so and I tapped my fingers on the armrest.
"Why don't you take your paycheck and get a car instead of gambling it away?", she asked.
I feigned being hurt.
"Ouch. So you really don't enjoy my company?", I asked.
She laughed a bit, "No. You're fine, even if you can be an asshole sometimes... No offense, but I kind of get tired taking you everywhere."
"That hurts..."
"What?", she asked, "At least I don't make you pay for the gas..."
"This is true...", I replied as we parked on the lot and I held the door for her as we entered.
We ordered our food and, true to my word, I paid for our meals and we sat at an open table in the corner.
We ate in silence for a while when I decided to make conversation.
"You know, I'd really like to get to know you.", I said, taking a sip of my water.
"Thought you already knew me... haven't you psychoanalyzed my every move for ages? By now, I half expected you to know me better than I know myself...", Happy replied with a chuckle.
I shook my head.
"No, I don't want to psychoanalyze you... I want to get to know you by talking to you and hearing your thoughts and opinions... I want to know you as a friend, not as someone who can be read like a book based on their responses to stimuli.", I replied, "You aren't a book... You're a human being with thoughts and stories that can't be observed."
Happy gave me this look as though I had struck a nerve and made her more emotionally vulnerable.
"Wow... I'll be honest, I didn't expect you to open up like that...", Happy replied, "I was waiting for something totally asinine to come out of your mouth..."
She took a bite of her burrito and chewed thoughtfully.
"So...uh... What do you want to talk about?", she asked.
"Um, your interests... I know that working on machines is both a hobby and a lifestyle for you but I know that there has to be more to you than that.", I said.
Happy nodded.
"If you're going to be asking me about my life then maybe I can ask you about yours.", she said.
"Fair enough. I'll start. What was your favorite Disney movie when you were growing up?", I asked.
"Mulan.", she replied almost immediately.
"Why Mulan?", I asked, "You said that you didn't like the princess movies..."
Happy rolled her eyes.
"Mulan wasn't a princess. She was a warrior. She was the first girl who actually stood her ground and didn't swoon right off the bat over some guy. She was a bad ass in her own way... if you know the movie you'll see that she didn't really fight by throwing punches or anything unless she absolutely had to. Sure, she trained and all but for the most part she fought with her knowledge and stood up for what she believed in. She risked everything just to protect her father and she didn't really become that stereotypical young woman, she sort of figured it out on her own and became a woman in the way that suited her, even if it was unorthodox... In a way, I can relate to that.", Happy confessed, "What was your favorite movie?", she asked after a moment of silence.
"I didn't really have one.", I replied with a shrug. It was the truth.
"Really?"
"Yeah... I didn't watch a lot of TV growing up... I spent most of my childhood taking care of my mom when she wasn't going completely insane or trying to OD on her medication. My dad hit the bottle and gambled when dealing with my mom got to be too much for him to handle and then I'd have to help him out by counting cards and reading people's faces...", I confessed, "When I was thirteen, my mom OD'd and my dad went to jail. I went to live with my grandmother but that didn't work out. I still graduated though..."
"How did you pay for college?", Happy asked, as if she couldn't help herself.
I had no trouble answering her.
"I gambled until I had enough money to go to college and rent out a room in a house off campus. I worked to earn enough money so that I could eat and prayed that I never got sick or in an accident because, Lord knows, I couldn't afford to see a doctor. I took out student loans and earned scholarships so that I could go to medical school. I got my degree quickly. When I was an intern, I made next to nothing and I turned to gambling so that I could have enough money to open up my own practice but I got into some trouble with a pit boss and that was when Walter found me... the rest is history..."
I had never really opened up like that to her except for the time when I was checking her ankle in Bosnia, but even then, I hadn't told her everything. Walter was the only one who knew about my past.
Her face reflected shock which was quickly masked by her normal expression. Her changing expressions hurt me like a kick in the gut. Making her uncomfortable had never been my intention.
"I'm sorry... you didn't need to know my life story...", I began but then stopped when Happy did something that was quite unlike her normal approach to an awkward situation.
She reached out and placed her hand over mine before realizing what she did and patting my hand anyway, as if she was brushing the awkwardness of the situation away.
"Toby, I know you come from a tough place, and I get it, I come from one too. I may not know the first thing about psych or the way the mind works but I do know that getting stuff off of your chest every once in a while helps keep your head on straight...", she said truthfully.
I nodded.
"You're right.", I agreed.
We lapsed into silence and, to my surprise, Happy didn't move her hand. I was enjoying the feel of her small palm and her rough fingertips brushing the back of my hand when her phone rang and she sharply withdrew her hand to answer her phone.
The call lasted a few seconds and when it was over, Happy got up and said, "We have a case."
Soon I was holding on for dear life and trying not to lose my lunch as Happy drove like a maniac through the streets of Los Angeles.
When we arrived at the garage, Cabe was there waiting for us.
"Well it's about damn time you two showed up... We have work to do."
All through the case, I couldn't keep my mind off of Happy.
Little did I know that I was entertaining her thoughts too.