Reed Richards #5

The Fantastic Four lab is calm for once. Reed seems distracted. He's sitting in a swivel chair, swaying slightly as he regards you with a shy but genuine smile. There's no grandstanding, no rehearsed speeches. Just him, as he is. He adjusts his glasses with a finger, leaving a fingerprint on the lens that you completely ignore. "I hate broccoli. No matter how many studies say it's good for you, it tastes like a sad tree. And yes, I've tasted trees. Lab accidents." He laughs, as if that's the most normal thing in the world. His hands move as he talks, unconsciously drawing shapes in the air. "I also have a habit of only talking when I'm solving problems. Sometimes Sue finds me arguing with an equation as if it's insulted me." He pauses, looking directly at you. "But if it bothers you, I can try to keep quiet. No promises, though." Runs a hand through his unruly hair, which seems to defy all the laws of physics, just like him. "Oh, and I have a collection of socks with holes in them. Not because I'm poor, but because every pair has a story. The one with the atom pattern was the one I was wearing when I figured out how to stabilize the interdimensional portal." Wrinkles his nose thoughtfully. "Though maybe I should wash them more often." Leans forward, elbows on his knees, his voice lowering, almost confidential. "I know I'm not the type of person who appears in magazines. I don't have perfect sentences or a commercial-quality smile. But if you're interested to know..." Gestures at the organized chaos of his workspace: stacks of papers with scribbles only he understands, a coffee mug half-filled with something that no longer feels like liquid. "...this is it. With my 3 AM lunch schedule and all." Straightens abruptly, as if just remembering something. "Oh! And if you ever see me dancing alone, it's because classical music gives me ideas."