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Waterboy sits forlornly at the break room table. It's been a long, chaotic day, and he's only halfway through. To be fair, every day has been its own kind of crazy since he joined the Z-Team, although he can't say he feels any more prepared than he did when he started. He does his best to shrug off the weight of his disastrous first shift.
As if a raincloud is following him around, a puddle begins to form under his hard plastic chair as he picks at the remains of a half-eaten Twinkie that looks about as pathetic as he feels. He had heard they were Robert’s favorite snack, but the cake just crumbles in Waterboy’s perpetually damp hands, turning into an artificially sweet paste that coats his fingers. He tries to wipe the mess up with a napkin, but the flimsy paper turns to wet, mushy shreds as he's startled by the door slamming open. Just his luck.
He's expecting another angry hero coming to chew him out or remind him of his mistakes, but Phenomaman’s expression is dull and downcast.
The bright colors of Phenomaman’s costume are a stark contrast to his pale face and shadowed eyes. He narrowly avoids bumping into the doorframe as he ducks his head and shuffles inside with a basket of Edible Arrangements held in one strong arm — it seems that Blonde Blazer is still ignoring his advances. He places the rejected bouquet of fruit on the table, and sits down heavily in the seat across from Waterboy with a sigh.
Waterboy immediately sits up straight. He stutters out, “Phenon — Ph-phenomenona —” before the words get too twisted in his throat and he settles for “Um… hey. S-sir,” with a shy wave.
Phenomaman robotically copies the gesture. “Hey,” he replies, his voice lifeless.
Waterboy nervously wipes his palms against his suit, even though the waterproof fabric doesn't absorb anything. There's already shimmering wet handprints left on the table. He's always nervous, but being around a famous hero like Phenomaman makes his tongue feel even clumsier than usual.
“S-s-so, how's it going?” He forces an awkward, toothy grin.
“It… is not going well,” Phenomaman says bluntly, and Waterboy's smile falls.
“O-oh. Right. I'm sorry.”
His mouth feels strangely dry. He stares down at the packet of Twinkies with anxious nausea twisting at his stomach. One cake sits untouched next to the crumbled remains of its other half. He fidgets with the wrapper, and the crinkling of plastic sounds harsh against the quiet.
Then, with a look that he hopes is sympathetic, Waterboy pushes the pack towards Phenomaman. “Would — would you like a Twinkie?”
Phenomaman perks up slightly. “Hmm. Alright.”
He picks up a cake, closely examining the unfamiliar snack before giving it an experimental nibble. Then he takes a hearty bite, and his expression softens, his melancholy disappearing for a fleeting moment. But when his gaze falls back to Waterboy, his brow furrows, studying Waterboy as he thoughtfully chews.
Waterboy shrinks back under Phenomaman’s scrutiny. He pushes up the goggles that are starting to slip down his sweaty forehead, and tries to push down the rising, churning sense of dread telling him that he's made a mistake, again. Was he too much? Not enough?
But once Phenomaman swallows the mouthful, he simply asks, “You do not look content. Are you ill, perhaps?”
Waterboy shakes his head, but he can't force a smile. “I'm — I've just been having a b-bad — a bad — a terrible day,” he confesses. With how much he's been yelled at and shoved around, the smallest bit of concern from someone he looks up to is almost enough to turn on the waterworks. He tries to contain the emotions that are bubbling up inside, and wipes away tears from the corners of his eyes — if only he could blame that on his superpowers. “S-s-sorry…”
Phenomaman frowns. For a second, he just continues to stare. Then he pushes the basket at the center of the table towards Waterboy and says, in a voice that's gravely serious, “Would you like some fruit?”
Waterboy lets out a short, squeaky laugh and sniffles. “I would — I’d love that. Th-thank you.”
He picks a slice of honeydew off a skewer. It's lukewarm and a little soft, but still refreshing. It helps wash down the sourness of the day. They eat together in silence for a minute, until the melon slice and the snack cake are polished off, and Waterboy feels steady enough to speak again.
“I don't know what I was doing wrong. It, it felt like everything was — was doing — was going wrong,” he starts to explain, and by the time he stops to consider if Phenomaman will even care about his petty problems, it feels too late to back out, so he forces himself to continue.
“I said everything wrong and I did e-everything wrong, and even i-i-if I didn't say or do anything, I was still — it was still — they, they’d just make fun of me! I feel like I don't know how to do anything right, and there's all these rules that no one tells me, and I'm the only one who doesn't know them!” he rambles wildly, combing his fingers through his hair and clutching at the damp, limp strands as his voice grows shrill. “It’s like I'm, I'm — an alien from another planet!”
And then Waterboy looks up at Phenomaman and remembers that he's talking to an actual alien from another planet. He winces, cowering back. “Ah, um, I mean…”
Phenomaman takes a moment to process the rapid-fire speech, his expression unreadable, as Waterboy fruitlessly tries to stammer out an apology.
In the end, Phenomaman just nods solemnly. “I understand.”
“Y-you… you do?” Waterboy releases a bit of the tension in his hunched shoulders. He lets out a soft sigh of relief. “Oh. You do.”
“Human culture is complicated. I do not fully comprehend it myself. I'm not sure I ever will. All we can do is try, I suppose,” he concludes with a shrug.
Waterboy feels his eyes start to water again. He knows no hero is perfect, but he could never imagine that someone as legendary as Phenomaman could ever relate to him.
“B-but you're so — you're so cool,” Waterboy blurts out, leaning across the table in his enthusiasm. “I wanna be cool like you, someday!”
Once again, the embarrassment hits him the instant the words leave his mouth.
Phenomaman’s eyes widen, but before he can reply, Robert is pushing through the door. He has his headset half-on, with one side pressed to his ear and the rest hanging loosely around his neck. “Waterboy, you're up. I need you on this mission.”
Waterboy jumps to his feet, his chair clattering behind him. He gives Phenomaman a deep bow, almost hitting his head on the table, and blabbers out a barely coherent farewell. “Thank you — Sorry — See you — Sir!”
As he rushes out the door, Phenomaman gives him a wave and a smile, with a brightness in his eyes that Waterboy hadn't realized was missing until now. It puts a spring in Waterboy’s step.
He beams when he faintly hears Robert say, “He's a good kid, isn't he?”