Who: Roger, Spencer What: Painting and a friendly visit When: Tuesday night Where: Spencer's place Rating: PGish
If Roger was more perceptive of other people and if he hadn't smothered the ability in order to keep himself believing most still liked him best, he would have noticed how badly Spencer was feeling. It was possible his subconscious was sensitive to it, which would explain the bag of sandwiches he bought for them on his way over, but Roger just told himself he thought she was doing him a favor. Most people who didn't know him and did something nice didn't genuinely want to spend time with him, but rather just visit like they'd drop by to see their senile grandfather. They'd wonder why he was still insisting on sulking and overreacting and wait patiently for him to either stop or disappear.
Roger knew Spencer wasn't guilty of any of those things, but she probably took pity on him like he took pity on himself. Yes, he was changed (damaged even) and likely permanently so, but it was hard to tell right now if it would be for the better. He didn't like living in someone's shadow, didn't even know what it felt like until last semester, and it was starting to break apart all the important qualities a leader and politician should have.
Here he was, a frat boy who participated in countless resume worthy clubs and volunteer groups, going to spend time with and art student he met in class. Someone who came from a completely different world and even though she tried, probably couldn't understand the place he came from. On one hand, it was a relief, on the other, it was like venturing into a part of town he only heard of but never went to.
Dressed in a ratty t-shirt that he wore when he went to paint houses, a pair of torn jeans and his KU baseball cap turned backwards (it was frat boys like him that took the edge out of backwards baseball caps) he knocked on her villa door. "Spenc it's Roger. I brought food because cupcakes just aren't going to keep you alive." See? He could still be thoughtful.