Chapter 1358

Rocket Raccoon followed Schiller into the office of the Dean of Arkham Asylum. He looked around with his head held high, as if he were sizing up Schiller's taste in decorating the room.

This is a fairly large comprehensive space. After entering the door, you can see the wide light-colored birch floor-to-ceiling windows in the reception area. The sofa near the window is a warm light coffee color, with some characteristics of modernist furniture. On the other side is a black desk and rows of bookshelves behind the desk, which instead show some British retro style.

A bit strange, and a bit chaotic, Rocket Raccoon thought, but there is no doubt that it is very tasteful and comfortable.

But that desk is a bit out of place—not the style, just that the desk is a bit messy, with various pens and notebooks piled together, as if it had just been turned out from some dusty warehouse.

Rocket Raccoon just jumped onto the table and was tripped by two pens. He bared his teeth, sighed, looked at Schiller and said: "You are really messy. As a doctor, can't you keep your office basically tidy?"

"It's very tidy here, at least before you arrived." Schiller glanced at the raccoon, then at an animal hair that had just fallen on the reflective desktop. Rocket Raccoon followed his line of sight, stretched out his claws to scratch his ears and said: "You are right, I have been a bit anxious lately, so it is inevitable to lose hair. Do you have any good pet shower gel?"

"You are accustomed to using such self-deprecating jokes to ease the atmosphere." Schiller put away the two pens, pulled open the drawer and threw them in, and then tidied up the books piled on one side of the table, saying: "This is not a good habit. You think your self-esteem is not reflected in these aspects, and you feel that you don't care at all. But over time, you will become less and less sensitive to words that hurt you."

"What else can I do?" Rocket Raccoon spread his claws, sat on the table, and said: "As you can see, I am just a raccoon that loses hair."

"You are too negative, but this may be related to your years of wandering in the interstellar space. All the life you have encountered is too different from you. You almost can't find the same kind, and you are used to being kicked around in the crowd."

Schiller pulled out another ballpoint pen and began to write and draw on the medical record, saying: "Your current attitude just shows that you still have a little energy left, and when this energy is exhausted, you will become extremely aggressive, no longer accept any teasing from anyone, and become hot-tempered and irritable."

"And then, certain words related to you will become your taboos, such as animals or raccoons. You will want to go crazy as soon as you hear this word, completely unable to suppress the anger in your heart. This is the most typical stress response of intelligent life after encountering mental abuse."

Rocket Raccoon opened his mouth, and Schiller spoke before that: "But this is not your problem. You were created out of thin air, without any socialization education, and you can't find the same kind to imitate. You have always wanted to integrate into society, but you can't find the way, which makes you very frustrated, and even began to doubt yourself."

"Because I saved your life and was very friendly to you, you still hold hope, and even don't hesitate to lower your self-esteem to joke with me and please me, hoping that I won't kick you out like others. I certainly won't do that, but your behavior is not the right way."

Rocket Raccoon sat on the table, supporting his cheeks with his claws. He shook his whiskers and looked at Schiller's eyes intently.

"Behavioral science is more like mathematics. Compared to the analysis of the emotional part in psychology that requires empathy, behavioral science requires more empathy. The behavior of intelligent life is a bit like mathematics. The cause, performance, and the resulting result have only one answer. If it is wrong, it is wrong, and there is no room for modification."

Rocket Raccoon suddenly became a bit at a loss, but he didn't even know why he was suddenly embarrassed.

"Since you have memory, no one has ever talked to you so rationally like me, which does not include any surprise that you are a talking raccoon, does not include curiosity about your bizarre life experience, and there is no contempt for animals. I will even tell you some professional knowledge that even not-so-smart people cannot understand."

"You don't know how to handle this kind of scene. If you were a human, I would judge that you are not good at socializing, but you are not a humanoid creature yourself. You don't have your own society, so it is normal not to have social skills."

Rocket Raccoon clenched his claws, smacked his lips, lowered his head and said: "What do you want to say?"

"I mean, most of your current pain comes from wanting to integrate into the society of other races, but you are always out of place. You first hate their indifference, then abandon your own race and identity, and then begin to deny your personality and meaning of existence. This is a common 'foreigner' symptom."

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"But the correct way to deal with it is that you have to find your own companions first, learn behavioral patterns from the same kind, establish your own society, and then exercise social skills suitable for you."

"Companion?" Rocket Raccoon tasted the word in his mouth. He looked up at Schiller and said quite hopefully: "Are you talking about you?"

"I am not your kind, and I won't be." Schiller shook his head and said. He looked at the disappointment in the raccoon's eyes, but remained unmoved, saying: "During treatment, patients often focus too much on the psychiatrist, hoping that the psychiatrist can understand them, care for them, and treat the psychiatrist as their own kind."

"But in fact, a psychiatrist is not anyone's kind. We just calmly find problems, analyze problems, and provide you with solutions. This is not because I like patients, but because it is my duty."

"If you misunderstand this behavior as unique love and feel that you can find recognition from me, then you are destined to be disappointed."

Rocket Raccoon lowered his head, his ears twitched, and he said in a tone with a bit of contempt: "How heartless, doctor."

"But you haven't heard the advice I gave you yet."

"Wasn't that advice just now? Just the nonsense about finding the same kind to establish a society?"

"Of course not, but don't take it as nonsense. I know it sounds a bit boring, like a big truth, but if you can listen to the prelude more patiently, starting from my personal feelings, I will like you a little more." Schiller reached out and touched Rocket Raccoon's head.

"Then what is your advice?" Rocket Raccoon's voice sounded hopeless at all. He shook his head vigorously again, shook his ears and said: "It's not a good song from the prelude, I don't think I will like it."

"You should find animals that are as intelligent as you to be your partners. Only they can truly understand you."

"Easy to say." Rocket Raccoon complained, and he muttered with resentment: "Intelligent animals, do you humans count? Oh, right, you are too intelligent. Compared with these nonsense, the prelude just now can be considered pleasant."

Just then, the door was knocked. Rocket Raccoon looked a bit vigilant. He watched Schiller stand up, shouted at his back: "It's clearly our private time, you were just performing very professionally, how come you can't do it now?"

Schiller made a shushing gesture to him while opening the door. After opening the door, there was no one outside.

Rocket Raccoon opened his eyes wide in surprise, watching Schiller bend down to pick up something from the ground. When Schiller turned around, Rocket Raccoon only saw a yellow lightning tail.

"Long time no see, Pikachu. What? Did that group of Spider-Men dazzle your eyes, making you not even remember your old friend?"

Schiller sat down on the seat holding Pikachu. Pikachu flicked his tail, twitched his nose, and deliberately used a funny voice: "Whoa, don't mention it. More than a dozen Spider-Men broke four of my game consoles in a month. I've never seen so many fancy ways to die in games in my life!"

"I guess my little clinic has been destroyed and rebuilt several times, right?" Schiller rubbed Pikachu's cheeks with both hands and said: "Before, Peter liked to pinch the handle after making a mistake in the game, and the fragments collapsed everywhere. I don't know how many Spider-Men like him don't know how much strength they have."

"Isn't it! But I guarantee that it looks decent there now. When are you going back there to cook? I want to eat scrambled eggs."

"Do you miss me or the scrambled eggs?" Schiller rolled his eyes and said.

"Can I understand that you are jealous of the scrambled eggs?"

The two of them quarreled with each other, and Rocket Raccoon standing on the table was completely stunned. He looked at Pikachu's rich facial expressions, exaggerated body movements, and the rhythmic tone that sounded like singing rap.

"Oh, my god, why is there a raccoon here?" Pikachu then saw Rocket Raccoon standing on the table. He looked him up and down and said: "This guy's face is so ugly that I thought he had just been made into a specimen a few hours ago."

"What did you say?!" Rocket Raccoon raised his tone and said: "Look at your bright, dazzling fur and those two cumbersome long ears. I dare say, if you squat in the children's toy area of the supermarket, you will be bought home by those screaming little monsters to wipe their saliva in less than two minutes!"

Pikachu jumped directly from Schiller's arms to the table, walked to Rocket Raccoon with short legs, turned around with lightning speed, and the lightning-shaped big tail "swished" and pumped onto Rocket Raccoon's nose.

"Ouch!

!

! Damn it, you're finished!

!

"

"Come and try who is finished!"

"Bang! Bang bang!"

"Zzz—!"

Watching the two small figures jumping up and down in his office, sweeping many decorations piled on the table to the ground, Schiller was not angry, but sat behind the desk, as if waiting for something.

Suddenly the door was knocked again. Schiller raised his tone and said "Please come in." Spider-Gwen pushed the door and walked in. As soon as she entered, she was stunned by the scene in the room.

But there was another small red and blue figure in her arms. Spider-Ham is a pig bitten by a spider. As soon as the famous superhero in the animal world saw someone fighting in the room, he roared: "Stop!"

Seeing that Rocket Raccoon and the yellow mouse had no intention of stopping, Spider-Ham snorted coldly, shot a spider silk on the top of the table, kicked the Rocket Raccoon who was about to pounce, and then punched Pikachu on the cheek, patting him onto the floor-to-ceiling window.

After Rocket Raccoon and Pikachu climbed up from the ground, they shook their heads a bit confusedly. The three small animals looked at each other with curious eyes, all stunned.

"Alright, everyone." Schiller walked out from behind the desk and reached out to pick up the pen that had fallen to the ground due to the fight between Pikachu and Rocket Raccoon.

He squatted down and looked at the three little guys and said: "Although I don't have obsessive-compulsive disorder, if I indulge some people in making trouble in my house, it must be because he has value. Do you think you have value?"

The three small animals swallowed their saliva together. Then, with a force that wished they could shake their cervical spine, they nodded vigorously.

Schiller, looking down at them, revealed a satisfied smile and said: "So now, let's talk about what you can do for me."