Counting Thoughts
Otto likes cute things, and that's fine with Gibson. Sure, the blue monkey has to ask how you quantify "cuteness," only to declare that aesthetics are strictly opinion-based calculations, and therefore irrelevant to the attributes of an object—no matter how, er, "fluffy" or "ticklish" they may be.
After all, it's futile to lend scientific credence to a highly subjective area, such as the scientific properties and benefits of one of Otto's macaroni drawings-slash-paintings.
Then again, scientific pursuits and Otto never commingle well, as Gibson deduced long ago.
However, the scientist cannot help but ponder for hours at a time what rattled loose in his companion's scattered mind for Otto to cradle a crooked-leg, hair-ridden, muddled-brown-and-black arachnid and croon over its "shiny, big eyes" like it's some sort of stray puppy.
It's a summer day in Shuggazoom, in a flourishing, ornate park nestled at the city's edge. It's relatively small, but nonetheless calming and refreshing for a rare stroll outside of Mandarin's insistence on persisting to train from the dawn until the dying sun (though the last is an archaic, erroneous term—figurative or not, it's all the same to Gibson).
Sprx makes a quip relating the hotness of the day to an aspect of Nova's attractiveness, and she retorts by introducing him to a particularly unyielding tree trunk.
Otto examines a flowerbed on all fours. He exuberantly sniffs the blooming reds and blues; the green simian screeches in—not in fear—excitement. So, so gently, he cups his hands together and eyes his prize: a large, spindly-legged arachnid of an ugly brown.
The green monkey grins at Gibson, who crosses his arms and raises a undistinguished brow.
"Isn't it cute?" Otto says. From behind, their leader strolls forward.
Mandarin stares intently at Otto's bent form, leering, and the blue simian knows—well, predicts based on levels of probability he calculated in his astuteness—what will transpire next: Their leader will kill the spider, right in front of gentle-hearted Otto. The green monkey will stare down with a shine in his eyes because he could never muster a loathing or a heated glance at one of his teammates—one of his friends.
Nova and Sprx will fume, so adamant in their repulsion and indignation—stomping forward. Mandarin's lips will curl in a knowing smirk and, why S.P.R.X.-77, remember who your leader is. Why Nova, still a tad miffed at me? Still too weak to control your impulses? Antauri will console Otto, filing this incident as a topic for later; Gibson will scoff because, good grief Otto, it's only an arthropod.
But Mandarin shakes his head in disgust, a faint sneer marring his features, before he skulks toward Antauri. Before he does so, he shoots Gibson a look that says, And you tolerate this stupidity?
Nonsense, that's all that Otto spews. Abstract attachments ingrained into real life. He peers through the world with the distortions perpetrated by a kaleidoscope—a phantasmagorical experience in a disillusioned mind.
Yes, that's it.
Gibson affirms Otto's detachment to reality when one day, while falling asleep in a chair in his room, the scientist is awakened by a hideous arachnid crawling over his face.
He screeches—not in excitement, but in fear.
When he later chastises Otto, yells, the green monkey is bemused. "I thought you needed company. I mean, you're always holed up alone in there."
Gibson cannot help but shudder as he remembers that day, and guiltily wonders what would have happened if Mandarin'd just, hmm, "squished" the spider in the first place.
Author's Note: So, this is a friendship fic, I guess. Take your preference. I notice Mandarin is often blamed for Gibson's arachnophobia, and, anyway, that's probably 99.9% likelier.