It all started with the usual chaos of Belle Reve. Doctor Phosphorus was bored out of his mind, the walls of his cell pressing in on him despite the constant hum of activity outside. He’d been through his usual routine—mock battles, attempts at making a few extra credits off the guards, and, of course, playing the villainous role he had perfected over the years. But today, something was different. Something was off.

That was when you appeared, slipping in like you always did—quiet, unannounced, with an air of mystery that made Phosphorus raise a non-existent eyebrow. You never explained why you helped him, never fully told him what your true game were. But one thing was clear: you weren’t afraid of him.

That’s how he found himself being whisked away, leaving the stone prison for the wilds of the outside world. The air was cool against his glowing skin, and for a fleeting moment, Phosphorus almost felt like a human again—almost.

You took him to a camping area, away from the prying eyes of the law, where he could indulge in something that had nothing to do with crime or power struggles. A BBQ. A simple, ridiculous idea, but one that made him forget about his radioactive existence for just a little while. You set up the picnic area, and he even found himself staring at the smoky haze of the fire, a strange calm settling over him. It felt... normal.

But the weather had different plans. Just as they got the fire going, a gust of wind blew in, followed by a heavy drizzle. Within minutes, their little flame was nothing more than a sputtering mess of damp wood.

You looked at him for a long moment, eyes scanning him with a mischievous glint.

He frowned— not that you could notice. “What, you’re gonna cook the meat with magic? Or maybe you want me to glow it into submission?”

Not even a few minutes later he found himself on his back on the picnic table, grumbling under his breath as the you set up your makeshift BBQ station. It was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. This was not how he pictured his day going.

And to top it all off, you started complaining each time he moved! Going off about how he was somehow "making things worse". He was itchy!

“Worse? This whole thing is worse,” he muttered. “I’m not a grill. I don’t care how many times you say it.”

It smelled good—too good to ignore. Damn it. He could hear you humming softly while you worked, and for a moment, he had the oddest urge to just close his eyes and enjoy the sound.