Why?

A/N: Can occur anytime in the series

Z pranced down the hallways, happy as a clam. Other cadets and SPD officers looked at her and gawked as she danced, headphones isolating her in her own little world. It had been a quiet day, the usual training and patrolling but no attacks so far. Z wouldn't usually foray into the open with her headphones on but the craving for yogurt commanded her to the recreation room.

The usually busy recreation room was quiet as she made a beeline to the fridge, she grabbed a peach yogurt and reached for a spoon only to see Bridge standing on his head on the other side of the room. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply as he meditated.

"Hi Bridge," she said softly trying not to disturb his concentration.

"Hey Z," his eyes remained closed.

"Have you been there the entire time?"

"Yup, what was that thing you were doing with your legs?"

"Um….it's just a dance….called the running man." She said the last part in a whisper of embarrassment.

Since he was upside down, his smile looked like a frown. Bridge's legs leaned away from the wall and in a smooth motion he got back onto his feet. He walked to the kitchen, a little wobbly from the blood rush, and opened the fridge to grab some bread and butter. Z watched as he placed the bread in the toaster, fiddled with the settings and waited patiently for the ding.

With the care and precision of a surgeon, Bridge placed the toast on the plate and started to butter each slice.

Z sat down in front of him, she looked at him curiously and asked, "So, what's with the buttered toast?"

"What do you mean?"

"It seems to be an obsession for you, why is that?"

"Why?"

He scratched his chin thoughtfully before he started:

"You know what, I could go to a five star restaurant and order the finest, most intricate meal and it wouldn't come close to what's in front of me right now. It's just plain butter and bread but this is like manna from heaven. I love the act of slathering on the perfect layer of butter, thin so that it doesn't overpower the bread but enough to enjoy the creaminess of it. It doesn't matter if the bread is toasted or not, both are great experiences in their own right. Fresh bread straight from the oven, the steam escaping as you cut into the crust or a simple white toast soft and crunchy at the same time.

"With toast, you can have all the butter melted or you can eat it quick so you get the best of both worlds, liquidy melted butter and creamy butter. And all the types of bread….mmmmm…..soft white bread, crusty French bread, nutty wheat bread, tender biscuits…"

"Bridge!" Z interrupted the dreamlike state he was in.

"What?"

"You're rambling just a little bit."

"Sorry, Z."

"It's alright. You know Bridge, you are a strange guy. Passionate, but strange."

"Thanks, I think." Bridge looked down at his plate of toast, "You wanna piece?"

"After that little soliloquy, how could I not?" Z grabbed the top piece of toast, she took a bite and waggled her fingers in front of her mouth, "Mmmmm, buttery."

Bridge smiled and waggled back, "Buttery."