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"Tim," says Jon calmly, leaning in the doorway, "could I borrow you for a moment?"
"What's up? Need me to kill another spooooky spider for you?" Sarcastic finger-wiggling, as usual, accompanies the words spooky spider.
Pointed silence.
"Oh my God. You cannot possibly be serious. This is the third one in an hour!"
"Tim," he says very, very calmly, "it is on my favourite pen."
"Fiiine, I'll come kill it for you."
Jon lets out a shaky breath. "Thank y-"
"But first!" Jon freezes, and Tim grins wickedly. "You have to admit that you're scared."
"Tim," he intones, placid as the surface of a moonlit pond, "it is on my favourite pen."
"Just repeat after me: I, Jonathan Sims…"
"Look, Tim, I really don't think this is-"
"Come on, you can do it! I, Jonathan Sims…"
"You know what? Fine! If that's how it's going to be, I'll just go and do it myself." Jon turns on his heel and stalks off, closing the door behind him so he doesn't have to see the I-know-how-this-goes smirk on Tim's smug face.
Tim glances at his watch. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…
Right on cue, there's a knock at the door. It opens to reveal a defeated Jon. "Ready?" Tim asks brightly.
The Archivist sighs loudly. "I, Jonathan Sims…"
"…am terrified of an arachnid the size of a pea…"
"…am terrified of an arachnid the size of a pea…"
"…and so I need to come fetch my big, strong, manly friend Tim to kill it for me."
"…we're friends?"
He may have let a bit too much hope creep into his tone there, judging by the incredulous stare Tim gives him. "Of course we're friends, dummy. If you're trying to make me feel sorry for you, it's working. Now come on. Stoker Pest Control is here to help." He trots off down the hallway and Jon follows, grinning sheepishly.
"Martin!" The shout rings through the narrow Archive corridors. "Martin, are you around?"
"Coming!" Martin appears surprisingly quickly for someone holding a mug of hot tea. "Is something wrong?"
"Martin, there's- there's three of them,they're- they're- I don't-"
"Calm down, Jon. Deep breaths, there you go. Now, try again. Three of what?"
"Spiders- there- on the keyboard-" Jon gestures frantically at his laptop. Martin leans in closer and sees that there are indeed three spiders scurrying across the surface of Jon's MacBook, including one that's nearly the size of an entire key.
He drains the rest of his tea, then begins gently shepherding the spiders into the empty mug as Jon looks on in abject horror. He carefully puts his hand over the top to keep the arachnids in, which elicits an audible gasp. "Martin! They could be- could be crawling on your hand!"
"Yes. And?"
Jon gesticulates wordlessly, as if the inexpressible horrors of having a spider on one's hand should be painfully obvious to anyone with half a brain and a healthy paralyzing fear of the horrid beasts. Martin informs him that he's going to upset them, at which point he gives up on Martin as a lost cause and begins rooting in his desk for something with which to wipe down his computer.
Martin gingerly carries the mug out through the side door of the Archive. Glancing around to make sure nobody else is within earshot, he releases the spiders with a whispered "Be free, friends!" The newly liberated critters scuttle off around the front of the Institute, and Martin heads back inside, secure in the knowledge that he has done a good deed and blissfully unaware that all three have just been flattened by an exiting Elias Bouchard.
They all hear the scream, but Sasha is the first to make it to Jon's office. Initially it's unclear what's wrong, aside from the obvious safety hazard of Jon standing on his desk, staring bug-eyed at the floor and sweating bullets. Then she follows his gaze. Tim and Martin arrive just in time to hear a second shriek as she realizes that the floor is covered in—
"Spiders!"
"Oh God! What the-"
"Sasha, what the hell?!"
Jon, meanwhile, is finally forming coherent words again, though full sentences are still well beyond his capacity. "I don't- they just- I was- was recording a statement- I looked up at the end and they all- they were just- just there! How did they even- that many-" He stops as he finally notices that Sasha is doubled over with laughter. Tim is giggling, and even Martin is trying to hide a small smile, looking absolutely mortified as he does so. Jon turns to them, outraged. "Do you think this is funny?!"
It takes Sasha a minute to catch her breath. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be- I thought they would just trickle in occasionally and give you a little scare! When I released them I didn't think they'd all launch some kind of coordinated assault!" At this she falls into another fit of laughter.
"…released… them?" Jon is rapidly turning an unhealthy shade of purple. He begins doing a frantic little tap-dance as a few spiders crest the edges of his desk.
"I have this weird neighbor who keeps spiders as pets, and he's always offering them to people, so I thought it would be funny if I let a few loose into the Archive! I swear it didn't seem like there were more than ten or twenty in the box. They must have… I don't know, bred or something…" She trails off, then sheepishly admits "In retrospect, it seemed like a much funnier joke in my head."
"A joke? You did this as a goddamn joke?! " At this point Jon is hysterical. He points at a large, hairy tarantula with lurid turquoise stripes down its legs. "That one's the size of my bloody hand!"
Sasha goes very quiet. "That's definitely not one of the ones I brought."
The tense silence that follows is shattered by the sudden entry of Elias Bouchard. "What in God's name is all the- YOU!"
Everyone else jumps as the head of the Institute thrusts an accusing finger at the tarantula. Realizing that the others are staring at him, he grins nervously. "Ah, I mean, er- hey, you! There you are! I've been so worried about you!" At this point the smile looks more like a grimace. "She's my pet, you see," he says, by way of explanation. "Went missing earlier today, and I've been out of my mind with worry." He scoops up the spider and hurries out of the room before anyone can ask why he's wearing surgical gloves. As his footsteps recede down the hallway, the Archive staff can hear him muttering darkly about "Web bastards" and "my fucking Institute" and "a little chat".
"Well!" Tim exclaims, startling everyone a second time, "That was terrifying!"
"Okay, I'm not crazy, right? There's no way that was his pet! What is he-" Martin looks like he's on the verge of tears.
"You know what? I don't care. I actually could not give less of a shit about whatever creepy thing Elias is up to this week." He slowly climbs down off his desk and navigates through the now-thinning swarm with the careful precision of a secret agent dodging laser tripwires in a spy movie. When he finally reaches the door he lets out a long breath. "If anyone else wants to clock out early with me, I'm going to the pub."
"And the spiders?" Tim prompts, gesturing to the sea of arachnids still filling Jon's office.
"Are a tomorrow problem. Drinks are on me."