As proud as I am of Toby for finally growing a backbone around Happy, no person with half a heart would be able to say that that scene didn't hurt them. Couldn't help but do a little Happy post-scene pov so here it is!

Happy managed to maintained the illusion of nonchalance as long as it took to turn the corner, and that was about it. Resting her weight the back of a nearby chair, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to wrap her head around what had happened. She heard mumblings of Sylvester talking to Toby but it was frustratingly muffled- and then her gaze fell on an innocent microphone that seemed to be staring up at her, almost as if reminding her that might just have a way into the conversation.

"... and now she just gave it to you. Did the spandex cut off the circulation to your brain?"

"So many times today I realized I can't be just friends with her," his voice has the slightest twinge of pure heartbreak and she bit her lip as she realized she wouldn't have ever picked up on the emotion if she hadn't been around him so much the past few months .

"I'm an addict," he continued, "first with gambling, now with her. To her it's just wiring a dollhouse..." he went on with the alcohol metaphor but she couldn't hear him over the thumping of her heart in her chest.

She wanted to run out there, tell him that it was more than wiring a dollhouse to her too- it was more of fine-tuning the wiring of her head and heart. Tell him that she knew now- knew ever since she had almost died last week without being able to tell him- that she loved him too.

Tell him that if he was the alcoholic, then she had never wanted to be a beer bottle so bad because oh his lips on her were so goddamn-

"So what's the new plan?" She barely picked up Sylvester's voice over her own thoughts.

"Only one way to break an addiction. Cold turkey."

Wait what?

"I'm done with her."

No.

He couldn't have had knocked the breath out of her any harder if he had boxed her straight in the sternum. She felt the blood pulsing through her inner ear, a wild panic that even being trapped in that submarine hadn't been able to bring.

Logically, she knew it was only fair. She had been giving him nothing but torture. He had fucked up with their date, but her actions over the past few weeks had more than matched up to it. Sure, she had distanced him- hurt him- for his own good, but from his point of view, it was a miracle he had tried to hang around as long as he had. It was more than justified that he moved on. Hell, he deserved to move on.

But emotionally...

"Anyway, have fun with the suit. See ya, Sly." His voice was real now, and his footsteps getting louder as he would have to walk past her to get to the door. She straightened up and pretended to mess with a small circuit board that was thankfully lying on the table.

He was on his phone though, blissfully ignorant of her presence and she was so grateful that he didn't see her, because he might be done with her but he's still a genius behaviorist and she wasn't remotely composed enough to fool Ray.

She was thankful he didn't see her. He didn't need to see her breaking apart due to words she wasn't even supposed to have heard. He thought she didn't care for him in that way, so why not just continue the act, right?

The status quo always worked.

But an equal part of her wanted him to have seen her, to see the scared hurt in her eyes- the widened gaze synonymous with having the ground ripped out from under you and not knowing how to handle the free fall.

Her relief in him not seeing her made her hate herself for being relieved, but at the same time hate herself for hating herself because he didn't need to know- not anymore- and she lost track of exactly how much time she had spent trapped in that never-ending vicious cycle of her thoughts.

"I'm not a robot." "Maybe we're changing."

She had been so proud of herself and Walt for slowly starting to evolve, but right now she just wanted to do anything to go back to that state of repressed emotions (It's unhealthy, you know. Trust me Hap I'm a Harvard-trained psychiatrist.)

To pretend that when she had told Walter she never expected to want to live as much as she did then, she had only had her dad in mind (If we're going to die today... Happy Quinn I'm in love-).

To go back to when she firmly believed that everyone would only end up hurting her, before she started thinking that maybe, just maybe, an exception to the rule wouldn't be that bad. (Spending your life scared to connect to anyone isn't any way to live.)

Her thumb subconsciously pressed too hard on an exposed wire, the pin prick of pain brought her back to earth and she looked up to see Sylvester's gaze quickly drop to Walter's suit.

Crap.

She steeled herself, put her usual mask of indifference back on, and walked up to the mathematical prodigy who was suddenly very interested in the stitching of suit's neckline.

"What?" It was harsher than she knew the younger genius deserved, but she didn't let herself soften even as she heard his voice echo in her head.

Defense mechanism... you put on your armor.

Sylvester shook his head rapidly, still downcast eyes widening in fear. "Nothing. Nothing at all." But then he looked up at her- cautiously, questioningly, concerned- and she gave him the slightest nod, grateful for the silent promise from him that nobody would ever know.

The weight of the moment suddenly became too heavy to bear, so she did what she did best.

We both play a great game of denial- might be the one thing I can beat you at.

"I don't think Walter washed that, and you know about foreign pathogens." She smirked down at Sly before walking away as he squeaked and practically emptied his brand new antibacterial gel bottle into his hands.

I know it's probably ooc but I dunno, I like the idea of Happy actually being a great big sappy ball of emotions despite the demeanour she puts up in public...

Please review, I'd appreciate any opinions/constructive criticism :)

Love y'all!