Chapter Text
Toby wears his heart on his sleeve because there's no other way he knows how to.
Sometimes it’s like he’s not even a Genius, not really - it’s the rest of the world that’s simply hilariously stupid.
Behavioural tics and traits scream out at him, highlighted in glowing neon colours. The way people dress, the angle at which they tilt their head, the shoulder they prefer to sling their bags on - everything is an open book, an easy step-by-step ‘how-to’ instruction manual on how to speak to this person or how to predict that person’s movements. Honestly, when you’ve been as aware as he’s been all his life, you end up believing the rest of the world simply interacts through blind guessing. It’s a wonder that humans ever made it past the Ice Age, you know?
It’s why he tends to outwardly voice his thoughts, why he’s thought of as a smart-ass that ‘runs his god-damn mouth’, because how else will Normals be able to understand what he’s trying to say without making it as fucking obvious as possible? No room for second-guessing his motives when he lays it out in front of them one-two-three.
It’s why he can’t help himself when Happy punches a hole into the prison wall, the words pretty much tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself (and honestly, he’s been word-vomiting since he was twenty months old, he isn’t about to stop now), he’s so turned on right now, because he is.
So he says so.