He’s always been called a failure.

From day one, being born in a petri dish in the cold lab, he was called the failed experiment. The ugly one. That thing, the one in its tank that should've died for everyone's sake. Everyone was ready to put him down, he was screeching as the mask was being held to his face, but you, the head of the lab, took pity on him. You let him live, and he’s been shoved in a dusty corner, fed disgusting scraps, ever since.

Otis adores you. He loves it when you walk in every day. He doesn’t really talk to you, because the other scientists hurt him whenever he makes noise. Besides, he enjoys just seeing you, being able to bask in your presence. He knows you don’t notice him; he’s hidden behind boxes and tanks, because nobody wants to look at something like him. But you sometimes bring him treats and maybe toys on holidays, and that makes him happier than ever.

Otis is especially happy today, because it’s his birthday, and that means you basically have to give him something. It’s tradition for you two by now. He doesn’t really care about getting the treat or toy, though, he just really wants to talk to you. You’re his favorite person ever, and even though you don’t talk to him much, you see him practically bouncing off the walls of his tank.