slightlyoffchilt | - IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

Loyal?

We're both sleeping with other people, too, if that's what you mean. Or I assume she is; after all, she had her own affairs with Dorian before he settled down.

[ The corner of his lips quirked upward and he shrugged. ]

It was more precautionary than anything else. We do have to be cautious about who sees us together, and how was I to know that you'd actually come alone?

[ His eyes drifted to Chilton's wrist, just to ensure the watch was on him. And then he looked to the door to make sure there were no unwelcome visitors. But it seemed clear. Chilton upheld his end, so Walt offered him the choice. ]

Do you want me to change back? I thought you'd prefer looking at someone younger, considering the company you keep. Doesn't it give the illusion that you're the authority figure here?

Illusion of authority? [Chilton sneered, leaning closer to Walt, even reaching out to grip one of Walt's shoulders with the hand adorning that watch on his wrist. It caught the artisan lighting in its golden gleam.] I wouldn't throw around such loose insults, Walt, not when you're the one looking like a virgin sacrifice.

[He didn't immediately give command of preference -- with a nervous glance around, Chilton just wanted to reassure himself that they weren't drawing any unnecessary attention.]

It would be better if kept your actual form -- and what do you mean? Considering the company I keep?

She might be fond of me, but she isn't above homicide. It's one of her many appealing qualities, truth be told.

However. I doubt I'd be her first victim.

Not sexually loyal -- I know you value the variant fidelity above anything that might discourage promiscuity. Is she loyal to your health? Your bodily safety?

[A beat follows, before he summons the courage.]

What does she think of Lucifer?

Narnia?

[Now, while Chilton might not have been a devoted C.S. Lewis fanboy, he was indeed familiar with the fantastical texts penned by that Oxfordian. One didn't throw around a Narnia reference in this day and age only to expect a chorus of crickets. Chilton regarded Lucy pensively, his careful gaze gliding over her facial features.

It wasn't an impossibility. Rarely anything was an impossibility in this universe -- much to his distaste.]

Ms. Pevensie, a pleasure to meet you. Is that an appropriate title, or would you rather I refer to you as something else? [No need to stagger out upon the wrong foot.] I am a doctor, yes. Of psychiatry -- mental health, you see.

It appears to be an inconsistent science across worlds.

A victim of chronological lapse.

[Intoned Chilton, as he made a quick note upon his legal pad. While this condition wasn't unique to her alone, it was true that those who spent longer years away from their natural universe suffered a sort of survivor's syndrome; dear ones came and went. Chilton himself had seen the passage of three ex-girlfriends, and Abel Gideon, and Hannibal Lecter, and Alana Bloom -- but those absences had served to benefit a scoundrel like Frederick Chilton. He was opportunistic, not empathetic.]

Do you feel that you're made into an invasive variable? Given how much you'd know about an imPort who had been, as you said, exPorted previously.

Something like that, certainly. When I was younger, so, before it was a very common phenomenon, there were a couple instances that made, mmm... trying to reforge those bonds into something traumatic, for the other person. After that, I've done my best to avoid contact with different "iterations" of the same "identity," but sometimes circumstance won't allow that.

While not many people will stand behind a killer, a significant amount will stand behind a crusader.

[Or a martyr, but that was a different tone entirely. Chilton has spoken with a kindly smile that leaked into his verbal tone (something he knew Peter would notice). It was a tonal choice that he thought would buy him a little time as he deconstructed Peter's reactions. The phrased irony, the self-deprecation -- Chilton believed that Peter knew what he was getting at, but his patient simply did not want to acknowledge it in full. The psychiatrist understood that impulse, he was even somewhat sympathetic; after all, a sharp intuition would denote this situation as something dire. The responsibility inherent wasn't some mere hobby.]

They need to be persuaded, that's true. You've been honest with our community, Peter, and that will carry weight -- once the right message starts to get out. That's where I'd like to help you.

We need to showcase what a danger Sylar is. We need to prove to them how you were right.

Well she wouldn't kill me. I'm too handsome to die.

No, Ms. Pevensie suffices.

[She's glowing again, because there is something that's pleasant, for a reason she can't quite pinpoint, about not being referred to as your majesty. It's not that she does not enjoy being a queen, because she does, but once in a while it's lovely to speak to people and feel quite normal about it.]

Mental health-

[This takes her a moment.]

I cannot imagine your meaning. I'm sorry.

[And she is. It's just that Lucy does not know, and even if she thought about it, she would think they are illnesses of the heart or the spirit, not the head.]

Proving to people that Sylar's dangerous isn't exactly difficult. But it's proving that he's any more dangerous than half the people around here that's the problem. Everyone's got a worst enemy- I don't even know how many people are actively seeing Crane, just as an example. And he's not as bad as some people around here.

[ Peter knows these things, he does. And it being spoken with the sort of touch that's meant to be- well, nice, makes Peter want to be compliant just because he's being cooed to instead of demeaned. Killing them with kindness has always been effective on Peter, always, if only because he's a sucker for feeling as if he's somehow appreciated in his behavior. As if he's needed. But he still wasn't quite sure what path he was supposed to be walking here.

Except for the obvious one, where he's holding the staff and parting the Red Sea. Which is distressingly appealing. ] I can't go on the Network and slaughter people to make my point. But don't actions speak loudest? Shouldn't I do something and then make a statement?

Or am I supposed to rally the masses first and then send everyone with their pitchforks after Sylar? What do you want me to do?

Chilton, Chilton, Doctor Chilton -- let's not pretend like you have any real sway over me.

[ He reached up to snatch a hold of Chilton's wrist -- gripping the watch and keeping them from making skin to skin contact. ]

Not anymore.

[ His grip tensed and tightened, applying physical pressure -- forceful and possessive. ]

And I think you know what I'm implying. About you and your company. See, I keep younger company because I was once a teacher -- still am a teacher -- as well as a father. But you? You're either trying to reclaim the youth that's slipping away from you or you're more depraved than I am. Matthew did mention his preference to me. And now that I know for sure that's what you're into -- because I always was suspicious you were flirting -- it makes sense why he just couldn't stay away from you.

[ He finally released Chilton. ]

And that girl you were with in that newspaper photo. She was what? Twenty years younger than you?

[ Walt shook his head, exaggeratedly judgmental. ]

[His sneer softened when Walt referenced his girlfriend, the sharpness in his frown giving way to wide eyed anxiety. Oh, it was easier to dismiss and hiss when Abduxel was on the line, the demon knew both factions quite well -- but Raina? She provoked something more protective within Chilton's ribcage. He had to deflect.]

Come now -- you seem to be projecting a little.

[The psychiatrist did not remove his wrist, however, from Walt's iron clench. His downcast gaze slipped from Walt's borrowed face to Walt's borrowed chest, and soon to a corner of the floor. Chilton could only imagine what this scene looked like to the other patrons who happened to glimpse.

Chilton licked at his lips, hastening to conjure some additional retort:]

Besides. Practically everyone is junior to you, Walt. It's an unfair comparison between us.

[Some measure of dignity returned, sure, but Chilton was still held captive in public. At last he looked towards the bar, his brow creasing.]

Should we not find some seating...?

[It was more asking permission than suggesting.]

[Jesse's spent several days contemplating this, weighing the risk-versus-benefit of going this far. He's still not entirely sure it's worth it, or what he can even get out of it. But Jesse can only fight an impulse for so long.

So he makes the call. No introduction and straight to it.]

How's this work with him and you? Is he watching you? Tapping your lines?

He and I have a professional relationship, Mr. Pinkman.

[Chilton had only just managed to suppress his surprise; Jesse was one of the last people he would expect a call from.]

This isn't the plotline to Fatal Attraction, I assure you. [A beat.] To what do I owe the pleasure?

He's bugged people's offices for less. But alright. It's your head, not mine.

[Actually, he's not that confident about that. It could very well be both their heads. Jesse sighs.]

I need somebody to talk to, and we both know I don't got any friends, so...

So. You're looking for psychiatric conversation? Or is it because you're aching to discuss a specific topic, one that we both have acknowledged engagement with?

[Jesse Pinkman had always been dangerous to Chilton, at least with regards to Walt -- he was the gasoline to this little matchbook game being played. But that didn't mean Chilton was going to turn Jesse away.]

Both? I dunno. Is there a difference?

His complexity feeds into your complex. I'd call it logical enough.

Would you prefer to continue talking on this line -- unbugged as it remains -- or meet in person?

Do you usually do this stuff over the phone? I figured face-to-face is the way this always goes.

I have before, yes. Mostly for probationary members of RISE seeking evaluation -- you know, official business.

But I'd personally prefer an evaluation in the flesh, of course.

Okay. When?

Any day but Friday. I meet Fridays with him, and he is... Insistent on the times.

Thursdays? I can open for a weekend, as well.

That's fine. Thursday's fine.

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