Late Night Smoke (Tag: Dorothea)

Dorothea stuttered out an apology, much like Spike had the moment before. Although he stopped a moment when he saw the look in her eyes. It wasn't really pity, it seemed like...genuine concern for him. If anyone else ever fussed it over him, it was because of his behavior or his grades, something arbitrary. He couldn't remember the last time someone was actually worried about him, for him. Somehow, that made his breathing slow down a little, enough to finish the rest of his backstory. "Iroh was lucky, had some friends on hand who were good with rocks and water. They fished me out, I was resuscitated, and whisked away to a hospital. The Witch Doctor got away." He gave a wry chuckle. "You know, that was supposed to be Iroh's last hoorah, before he retired. Take a student out, nab a criminal, go out with a bang. But when everything went south, he promised me he'd get the Witch Doctor if it was the last thing he ever did." He took a final puff on his cigarette, the last of the smoke trailing out between his teeth. "Gotta give him credit, he made good on his word. A week later, the Witch Doctor was found and he got thrown into a maximum security prison. Iroh retired after that, and that was that. Or, at least everyone thought it would be." He looked up at the sky again. "The nightmares started while I was still in the hospital. I was jumpy, on edge. Couldn't be in a body of water without feeling like I was losing my breath. Everyone figured it was just trauma over almost dying and that I'd bounce back, like a lot of heroes did. And I thought that's all it was for a while too. But I realized that the real fear, was from almost dying doing something I didn't even want to do. Being a superhero had been pushed on me from day one, and I almost drowned just trying to please them." His free hand curled into a fist. "They threw counseling at me for a while, until my parents pulled me out 'cause they didn't want anyone thinking their kid was a nutcase. That was when I got onto the drug scene, started self-medicating. I think maybe a part of me hoped that if I failed school enough, they'd see me as a lost cause and finally drop it. But they kept me in here, thought that repeating a year would gibe me extra time to catch up. If I ever mentioned not wanting to be a superhero anymore, they'll just say it's the trauma talking and I'll get over it eventually. So, I stopped bringing it up. Now I'm just kind of...stuck in purgatory, I guess you could say. I can't stay here forever, but if I ever graduated and got thrown into the field I..." He paused for a long moment before finishing with "I don't know. I don't know what's going to happen."

Spike glanced down at Dorothea. That wasn't an answer he got often is he ever chose to tell his backstory. A lot of people would do anything to be superheroes, the idea of walking away from it probably seemed dumb. He knew he wasn't the first. Some kids decided to just graduate with a high school diploma and do something else instead. Maybe they still did something related to superheroes, like making gadgets or outfits. Or they chose something else entirely. Spike knew his parents wouldn't go for that though. They wanted their son to follow in their footsteps, be a hero just like them. Dorothea didn't seem to happy with them, and when she asked Spike what he really wanted to do, he had to think for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him that, really asked him that. It made him look at Dorothea a little differently. "A mechanic, I think," he replied. "Maybe teach some self-defense on the side. Those classes, tinkering around with cars and motorcycles, or learning a new fighting style...I actually liked those." Maybe he could throw in music too if he had the time, but he knew the band was more for fun than actually making a profit. It would probably stay as a hobby.

"Fic them, mostly," Spike replied. "Or upgrade them, give them a bit of an edge. And how to do it right so you don't blow yourself up." He actually gave a little laugh. "I think regular cars are fine with me though. It's work that makes you use your hands and...I like that." He let out a breath. He actually felt a bit...lighter, calmer. This was the most he'd talked about himself to anyone, the parts he'd tried to bury at least. And Dorothea sounded like she actually cared and wanted to listen. His cigarette was mostly done at this point, but he still idly twirled it between his fingers. He looked at her again, her red-rimmed eyes making him pause for a moment. He'd noticed it before, but had been so distracted earlier, it hadn't really registered for him. Had she been crying earlier? "You okay?" he asked, figuring if Dorothea had listened to him vent, the least he could do was offer the same to her.

Dorothea replied, not getting hung up on her answer nearly as much as Spike had with his. And honestly, it was kind of...normal. Giving your all for a role, or anything for that matter, and then still failing, it was an unpleasant feeling. Anyone would get upset over it. Yet here Dorothea was, listening to him talk about all his problems without even mentioning hers until he asked, putting his needs before her own. Spike found it hard to pinpoint how exactly it made him feel. It was kind of weird, but also kind of good in a way. "I'm sorry. If they didn't pick you, they're a bunch of pinheads," he said, hoping it would cheer her up a little bit.

It looked like that had been the right thing to say, Dorothea smiled a little. It was funny. Making her feel good actually...made him feel good too. Spike had always thought that "if you help people, you'll be helping yourself" mindset was kind of bullshit, but he couldn't deny that the weight on his shoulders didn't feel quite so heavy. "Maybe not that, but we can always slash their tires," he joked. "Just three though. IF all four go, insurance will cover it." At least, that was what the Internet said, so maybe it wasn't entirely true. But jokingly plotting a revenge against the directors or whoever was holding the auditions was making him laugh, even though they probably wouldn't go through with it.

Darn, just when things were actually starting to get not so doom and gloom. Spike figured staff patrolling the grounds would show up eventually. Dorothea was quick to make her exit. Spike thought for a moment before flicking his cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his shoe before saying "I think I'm done out here." He wasn't feeling nearly as tense as before and might actually be able to get some sleep now. "And thank you. For listening," he added. He'd always feared that sharing what had happened would make people view him differently, see him as weak. But Dorothea had reacted almost the exact opposite. She understood how going through something like that would mess him up. Heck, she even asked about what he would do if he wasn't a superhero. He felt like he could actually talk to her about this stuff and she'd really listen. It made him feel good, knowing she had his back.

((End thread?))