slightlyoffchilt | - IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

Peter, hello. Have you spent much time in Maurtia Falls? There's a place there, perhaps you've already paid visit -- the Iceberg?

[Not one iota of judgment lingers in his voice, nor any smudge of smugness; but Chilton is pleased that Peter wants another session. Deeply pleased.]

I know it isn't orthodox, given the presence of served alcohol -- but it can be our little secret.

[ Can we not mention Maurtia Fall? That'd be nice. He's already had Sylar up his ass about that, and he's fairly sure this is where that's leading. Or maybe he's just inclined to believe it to begin with. ]

I could probably find it easily enough. It's not like i'd actually tell anyone, either way.

[ Or maybe Chilton just want to see what kind of booze Peter actually drinks, who knows. ]

[Chilton quirked an eyebrow at that, his lips pursed.]

Perhaps we ought to establish boundaries, Mr. Lin. [Knowing Abduxel's true name now, Chilton has opted to ironically employ the demon's alias. It would serve better for when he needed to say what the demon now called himself.] Like, for example, no more snooping about my other patients. It might suggest jealousy.

Ah -- would your inner social circle not take well to your psychiatric treatment, or is this simply more a personal matter?

[Chilton had yet to delve into Peter's current socialized acquaintances; he had been so invested in the twists and turns of the Petrelli clan. Angela, in particular, was a complicated figure, as Chilton believed that he had detected some mixed loyalty despite her problematic mothering.

Perhaps Peter's imPort contacts ought to be the next topic of conversation. While Peter wasn't a hermit, he quite clearly tried to keep to himself -- mostly for reasons winding back to Sylar, it seemed.]

Regardless, I'm glad we're at an understanding.

[ Oh, well, actually- that seems like a valid question, all things considered. Though, Peter's pretty sure he doesn't have much of an inner circle to speak of, he's made it rather easy on himself to keep it from being a topic he comes close to bringing up. Because he doesn't need that kind of help, he is perfectly sound. ]

I don't know how they'd take it. Depends on the person, I guess.

[ Out of what like, three people, Peter? But he clears his throat. He would kind of like to speak to someone he doesn't necessarily have to hold his shit together with. If he'll let himself. Maybe. ] But yeah, I've gotten to the understanding part.

[He laughs a little, clearly amused by rubbing his previous invasions in Chilton's face.]

Boundaries, jealousy. That's cute. [Just like you, when you're flustered.] For your information, I was honest with you that I haven't snooped since Walter called me off. There's no need, really. Do I care about imPorts' personality disorders? Not really.

[Chilton tilted his head, acknowledging Abduxel's confession. But the psychiatrist was more interested in the potential for misbehavior than any repeat offense; if committed once, it could be committed again. That was the logic he would employ for his own benefit, during this whirlwind period between their mutual acquaintances.]

You care about yourself. And your significant imPort connections. [A beat.] Do they care about you, Matthew?

[Apparently Dorian doesn't, he thinks bitterly.]

You should be asking them [he uses air-quotes] that question, not me. I can't answer for anyone else. Some of them enjoy my company. Some of them tolerate it. Some of them know better - or had to learn.

Well. [Abduxel's response was noted for its overtones of defensiveness and hostility. Chilton smiled softly, convinced he had rubbed a thumb over a raw nerve.]

I enjoy your company. While rejection from others isn't kind, you might consider it a pruning process. Some will always be blind to your truer value.

I'd like to discuss those dependable persons, then. [Chilton likes a little wordplay, and he certainly won't spare his patients from it.] If that is all right with you? I think, given how much we have conversed about your past, now would be a vital transition into discussing your future. Especially -- [Chilton exhaled, lightly.]

Well. There was that recent address to the Network, wasn't there?

[Sylar. Always Sylar.]

[ Except no one's actually all that dependable, though he sees what you did there well enough. He pauses for more than a few seconds, trying to restrain the urge to say "You got it wrong," but he finally exhales a gust of a breath. Don't do it, Peter. Don't self combust. ]

Sure, why not. But Sylar doesn't have anything to do with people in my inner circle. [ Not true. He always comes up in conversation; Peter hates it. ]

He's not a part of this one. He just always has to have something to say.

[Damn right they will. Fuck you, Dorian and Walter. Lightly, although with an undercurrent of bitterness,] The blind ones can have their uses, too.

[But he's getting tense because he wonders if Chilton knows that Walter fired him, and he's reacting to the manipulation of this live nerve with a metaphorical snap of the teeth. His gaze is unwavering, revealing in its intensity. He considers asking Chilton directly what he's getting at, but he opts for a different route, something a little more demonic.]

I'm aware I can be difficult to get along with.

We all have skeletons in our closet, though. Sometimes even on our tables. Is that connected with your unwilling condition, I wonder? I never did read that part.

[Chilton looked down, a moment, accepting that Abduxel had thrown this blow. He forged his features into an expression of exoneration, presenting the demeanor of forgiveness without any strings attached.

But of course, an appearance was simply an appearance.]

Is that what you want from me? Do you need me to recite my trauma to you?

I don't need anything from you. I could look, myself, but I don't. Are you sure your vision is alright?

[Translation: Do you actually respect me? Are you as grateful as you should be?]

It isn't so much the material itself, as you know. I'm aware of your power. Just as you are aware of how we understand compliance.

[He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk.]

I do not comply for most people, Abduxel. Most people are not worth it. But I can for you, if that is what you want.

[That makes him begin to relax, cautiously, unwinding tension that had been caused by Chilton needling at that sore spot. At least Chilton knew he was worthwhile, he thought. The cutting underhanded aggressiveness fades a touch, still beneath the surface but submerging to - eventually - give way to his more usual demeanor.

He smiles.]

Oh, I'd like if you complied, but not necessarily in the way you're suggesting.

Of course, of course. [No longer taken aback by Abduxel's poignant flirtation, Chilton only arches an eyebrow in appreciation of their status quo. Innuendo and threats, honesty and veiled promises -- that was their dance.]

And you are quite aggressive when in pursuit. But one might wonder, does that tendency hold true beneath the sheets?

I think you can guess.

[He leans forward on the desk, propped by his elbows. Smiling at this turn of events, unwitting that Chilton had driven him and Walter apart and then played on his need for validation. Well, the idea crossed his mind, but he'd dismissed it, not yet a knowing witness to the depth of Chilton's manipulative abilities.

But invite the demon in and give him an inch... He looks sly, speaks low:]

I'd have your arms and legs spread and tied, bent over prone across this desk, begging for my aggression.

[Chilton blinked -- then swallowed. A heat roused in his cheeks, the sort of pinkened blush that he hadn't felt for a couple months at least. Undoubtedly the last flustered flush he had suffered was also because of the demon, this salacious and provocative demon. It was astounding what he could provoke with the turn of a phrase or two.

Chilton shifted, crossing one leg over the other, and thus secured his response.]

Vivid. [Chilton glanced to Abduxel's gaze. Glanced back down at the table. Another tide of blush.] You enjoy using elements of your partners -- well, I don't want to say against them. But rather, in exploitation of them. You'd offer to use my desk, symbolic of my prestige and station, as the restraining bed re-purposed for your... Aggression.

That is a perception of yours that I find quite fascinating, you see. You know how people define themselves, the symbols they use, and you understand how to use that to your benefit.

[He can't hide how pleased he is at Chilton's flustered, blushing reaction. The man never really draws back, never tells him to stop, always leads him forward with the smallest breadcrumbs. But so long as he senses invitation, he pursues. His eyes flick down to note that crossed leg, but beyond that moment, he doesn't break gaze with Chilton. He looks thoughtful for a moment.]

I've never thought of it that way, but you're right. Of course, the lines do blur between exploitation and indulgence.

[Dorian and his narcissism, Elsa and her blood magic... Of course, he was not so combative about it with everyone as he was with Chilton. But then, they didn't need much coaxing to indulge with him.]

Tell me. Do you like being exploited? I think you like it.

Why, Mr. Lin. Are you accusing me of masochism? Hard to imagine someone without masochistic tendencies seeking out someone to exploit them. [It's a lingering preamble, a way of toeing around Abduxel's observation. Chilton wasn't afraid of being subjected to a little exploitation, as long as that momentary humiliation served his greater purpose. He could play the political game, he could give -- as long as he would later take.]

My body had been violated, before. [A beat. As promised, that information about Abel Gideon given willingly.] By a former patient. He kidnapped me and gutted me. He removed some intestine, a kidney... Well. How gruesome do you want the details?

[His smile emphatically says yes to Dr. Chilton's preamble, but the expression fades naturally to a more serious, intent look as the man reveals his great trauma. Abduxel had jabbed at the cannibalism thing as a continuation of mocking his own invasion of Chilton's files and memories; he thought perhaps the issues with cannibalism were related to Chilton's unwilling vegetarianism, but he had never expected that connection to be so physical and so literal. He'd expected some psychological trauma. And so he seems surprised, almost taken aback.

But the fact that Chilton shared this with him was, although unfortunately not returned flirtation, at least some kind of meaningful token. A gesture, and a rather grand and serious one when it comes to Abduxel. In return, he shows more respect in his reply, a stark contrast to earlier:]

Only as gruesome as you'd like to share, Doctor. I'm not squeamish, but I'm not demanding every dirty detail from you, either. Were you... awake for this torture?

[An exhale followed, long and ponderous. Chilton was willing to indulge and forge this meaningful connection -- he needed to, in fact. Abduxel was not only a favorable ally, he was a vital one.]

I was. My former patient had me on a local anesthetic. He didn't want me to pass out from the pain, and he didn't want me made unconscious from the painkiller. He preferred his surgical targets awake, if numbed. He said it reminded him that they were still human.

[If Chilton wasn't exposing flesh this session, then he'd expose his past.]

He forced me to hold my own entrails as he fled the scene.

[Would Chilton be surprised to see Abduxel affected by this story? The demon has sympathy, and his widened eyes show it.]

That's disgusting.

Was he caught?

[He looks away a moment, then back at Chilton. He seems a touch uncomfortable, maybe feeling that there's some comparison being drawn here with regards to how he crosses Chilton's boundaries (frequently, and on purpose).]

When I "joke" about exploiting you - when I come onto you - I do hope you're aware that you can stop me with a word.

Perhaps only in the broader sense -- in that both factions are involved with magic to begin with. But maybe that isn't a relevant distinction, in your universe? While it would be remarkable in mine, perhaps it is to yours like, well, like mammals relying on air to breathe?

[He spoke lightly, gently, with the tone of a diplomat seeking a common language.]

Regardless, I imagine you've already adapted to the disjointed nature of magic in this universe. There are likely not as many wielders as you're used to, I would assume. [A beat.] Do you know if any other magically inclined imPorts disagree with RISE? That may be one of those specific inevitabilities.

- IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

voice.

voice.

no subject

voice.

voice.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

voice.

voice.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject