slightlyoffchilt | - IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

Oh, I won't badger for specifics.

[Names weren't too specific, right? Some ghastly part of Chilton was dying to know which deviant imPorts had the foresight to sign up for a defense attorney well ahead of their inevitable psychological explosions. It's not like Chilton was going to inquire the quality of the legal issues, of course!]

How's the money? [He caught Jeff's appraisal of the couch. Perhaps it was crass to speak of income -- but Chilton, for all his pretension and elegance, maintained some level of selfish insensitivity.] Up to your usual standard?

I'm the deity? The god of... the American Psychiatric Association?

[It was a gentle tease, one mired more in bemusement than any of the corrosive flicks that his tongue was used to demonstrating -- of course, Raina had never really been the target of his crueler side. Such was weaponry he would rather restrain in her presence, even if the circumstance called for it (according to his own uneven feelings). But in this moment, her sincerity was touching, perhaps even inspiring. She truly was born from the angelic realm, he thought. It was impossible not to be fond of her. It was inevitable that she would persuade him, no matter how fantastical the concept her clever mind wove.]

I'll have to consider a better angle, perhaps. Though it was always my opinion that the man -- or woman, in this case -- made the god, perhaps I ought to leave that gospel up to my angelic messiah?

This is something we ought to plot together, in person. We have the pieces within reach, certainly attainable -- and you have the crucial angle of scouring for philosophical artifact. And what better place for inspiration than a church? I like the idea.

I don't suppose it's very surprising, but it's much easier to work through foreign-borne emotions, than it is my own. They're finite. Even if they start very strong, that single input can't get any stronger. Regular human emotions, though, they can fluctuate from minute to minute, at the slightest provocation. Associations and reminders can unearth the dead long after they've been buried.

... I know that's what ordinary people have to deal with, their whole lives, but when you have two different senses of emotion, it's hard not to prefer the less painful one.

[She does, then, she follows. For doctors, she does not get bothered with commands as long as they are politely said. Once they arrive, she settles and sits, and looks at the park for a moment.]

I fear I do not have the appropriate vocabulary to describe it. But there are great birds, red and black, and they carry stones. Only the stones are not stones, but enormous firey masses that destroy everything in sight.

And I am small, and I try to hide, but I cannot find a place, or anyone to hide with.

[She pauses a moment.]

Other times I'm traveling in the belly of a great snake, but I am not afraid of it. I am, instead, fearing my arrival in a strange place.

These nightmares are very common. And if the horns of the emergency, ah-

Firefighters? [Said as an unfamiliar word] play, then, then they are worse.

Your impression would be accurate, but it makes the situation no less humiliating.

[ The age difference. The age difference was what was killing him the most. But once Walt got his drink, he wrapped his hands around it, staring into the contents as he addressed Chilton's prior comment. ]

But used? That's a start. Do you, perhaps, feel as though the control has been taken from you? As though the roles have changed? Do you feel betrayed in some way? Are you angry that you didn't have enough willpower to resist? Did the guilt turn you on so much it was impossible to stop?

[ Walt shifted himself a bit. They called them guilty pleasures for a reason, and what he had just done to Chilton? Well, that came with its own interesting side-effects. Walt was mostly able to push his own feelings on the matter to the side in favor of reminding himself this was a necessary evil. It put him and Chilton on the same level. But damned if he wasn't turned on from it. ]

Edited 2015-08-14 19:17 (UTC)

[It's hard not to keep an air of smugness about just what Jeff knows, because oh God he sure does know some shit he probably shouldn't. Thankfully that smugness could just as easily be thought to exist thanks to his success or just Jeff's usual self-approval. Always a smug asshole.

He takes a thoughtful sip of his wine, letting it rest against his pallette for a few lingering seconds before swallowing it down. Enough time for him to consider the questions.]

Better than yours, I imagine. It's amazing what people will pay for freedom, security and anonymity. [Jeff offers all three and so much more. He's a representative, a PR man, a protector and a provider. He can get people out of trouble and others into trouble, and move pieces on the board wherever the hell he feels like. It's no wonder he has somewhat of a superiority complex. He craves control and lawyering provides it in abundance.]

I never quite got there back home. Disbarred just as my career was peaking. I was stupid the second time around, trying to open a firm that helped people. There's no money in it. Pro bono work and helping the little man isn't a sustainable business, it's a charity.

[ Raina became a little flustered by his teasing. And Raina didn't become flustered, so that was something novel unto itself. Why couldn't he be the god? Raina certainly admired him that way. Granted, she would probably be considered the same amount of insane that would belong in his Baltimore home. But still! ]

Well, I worship you.

[ The confession was soft and earnest -- a little embarrassed that he had laughed the idea away. ]

But yes, you'll be home soon, won't you? We can start brainstorming it this evening.

[ Lucifer stayed quiet and cool. He watched, as it almost seemed that Chilton reconsidered what this committal meant--from Lucifer and from himself. It had been almost symbolic up until this point, and while they'd spoken in their various contract terms, it had never been so blatant until now. The promise of magic seemed to have touched something, at least.

He wondered, just for a moment, if - in regards to Raina - Chilton hadn't simply put his foot in it, found himself possessed, owned, controlled more than he expected, more than he'd discovered - in retrospect - that he wanted. It wouldn't surprise him, just like it wouldn't surprise him if the man often found himself in over his head, using vacuous acts of distraction to make it seem like he still had control, and the choices he made were in fact all his.

No wonder he struggled with committing to Lucifer's deal. Who else could he get in too deeply with? Who could be so unpredictable? If Raina and Walt could overpower him with their personalities, then Lucifer certainly could.

So Lucifer gave Chilton the floor absolutely, let him think, and talk, and then finally spoke himself. ]

No, not at all. I don't need you to perform for your dinner, Frederick. My request for you to come when called is a token gesture, an exchange to make what I offer you an exchange and not a gift, so that you can better understand it. I want to give you the opportunities you deserve, that's all.

And Raina is an opportunity you deserve. I don't want to drive her from you if I can help it.

Say yes to me, Frederick. I will do everything I can to ensure that you don't regret it.

Edited 2015-08-15 00:18 (UTC)

You're looking to invoke my motivation.

[Quietly spoken, this revelation. It meant a lot to Chilton, who had invested much of his life into motivations, that this was Walt's newly minted tactic. A seizure of control (expected) but in a manner that pertained specifically to Chilton's forte. That was the most offensive quality to Walt's detected patronizing; he was simply being like Chilton to Chilton.]

If I am yours, then you are equally mine. I won't fight you, Walt -- I enable you. I want to help you flourish.

[Something that was no secret.]

You have to reassert some semblance of dominance, especially after what Pinkman did to you. For you. What he did because of you.

I understand that.

[ The look Walt gave Chilton was one of pure exasperation. Of course the man would dodge his questions. Of course he would turn this around on him. Walt wanted Chilton at a level where he could relate to him -- where he could crack open Chilton's head and see the thoughts on display. He wanted to ask a question and not have the evasive tactics. He wanted honesty. He wanted to know Chilton inside and out.

All part and parcel of owning him. ]

Do you understand it?

[ His brow raised skeptically. ]

Do you even understand me anymore? I don't think you do. I don't think either of us do.

I'm your creator, Walt. Something you've already admitted. Of course I understand you.

[Perhaps just as Doctor Frankenstein understood his monster.]

And I know that succumbing to you is the last thing our... Partnership requires. Your whole identity was fleshed upon trial and tribulation, why would I interfere with that learned behavior you've so cleanly adapted?

[Walt could expose parts of Chilton by force, but only parts. It was a sacrifice the doctor was evidently willing to make, however reluctant his initial approach might have been.]

You're not going to own me. And that friction is what will inspire you to greater magnificence, Heisenberg.

Trust me when I say I will do my part for both our agendas, whether or not you agree about the itinerary.

Edited 2015-08-15 03:51 (UTC)

Who are you trying to convince right now, Frederick?

[ Walt didn't typically use Chilton's first name. He had a few times, mostly in mocking. But he tended to stick to a strict surname basis. No Doctor. No Frederick. Just plain Chilton. So this was yet another form of attack. Another way to become familiar. Another way to rebel against the title of 'patient.' ]

Because what just happened between us was you succumbing to me -- so what if my attentions promised an even greater reward? Something more stimulating? You can't deny that you love it when I touch you.

[ His hands moved upward to brush Chilton's cheek, chillingly affectionate. ]

And my theory is that you secretly love this loss of control. It's as thrilling as it is frustrating. And you're so willing to ride it out just for the chance to one day take back what you think should belong to you. Because it doesn't matter how many losses you face, how many unexpected outcomes -- if you're the ultimate victor, it will all be worth it, won't it?

And I worship you, too, darling.

[He spoke more from a place of the abstract, the ideal that Raina was, rather than with her impassioned conviction -- for he did appraise her in the utmost of glorious terms, he was still a cautious man. Clever, cautious Chilton.]

I'll be home shortly, yes. Though I do hope we can play as well as work.

It's logical, if anything. I think most people in your position would opt for the less painful option -- if we're under the assumption that most people are rationally minded.

[Chilton's opinion on that matter was left obscured.]

Have you tried forgetting them? Relieving yourself of that baggage. There are a few psychic imPorts around here, Ruka, I have little doubt their moral qualms aren't up to starch.

[The suggestion in of itself wasn't advice -- he anticipated that she had already considered that, and was very likely against the proposal. But he wanted to observe her reaction, that was the whole point of the matter.]

[ There's a visible flinch in her expression: a recoil in the tensing muscles, a momentary baring of the very edges of her teeth. ]

The only thing permanent in my life is myself. If I wanted to erase that, I would have done it five years ago.

[ Not the same way, Raina wanted to counter. But sometimes it was just better to bite ones tongue -- especially when dealing with a man like Frederick Chilton. One so easily prone to narcissistic injury.

So she instead, she countered his statement: ]

There is always time to play.

[ Jokingly: ]

We can even play while we work.

I don't know about that. [Said Chilton, in reference to Jeff's comment about making more. Though, to be quite frank, only one patient was skewing those numbers: Walter White.

Ironically.]

What got you disbarred? [It was a surprising confession, though one that Jeff had clearly gotten over to reveal it so casually. But that was all news to Chilton, and he couldn't help but wonder how someone as smooth chatting as Jeff Winger would actually face such dire consequences.

If the angle was to distract Chilton from his own clientele, then Winger was quite successful. The psychiatrist peered curiously, his lips just barely touching the rim of the glass in hand.]

[Oh, that was a lot of captive emotion. Notable frustration, evident rage. Chilton listened calmly to (what he would describe in his notes as) the tirade, raw and adrenalized as it was. Chilton measured Jesse's body language as much as he did the young man's words; both dialects fraught with transformative implication.

Chilton didn't interrupt, not even with a change in facial expression. He didn't flex into psychological movement until it was made boldly evident that Jesse Pinkman was done speaking.]

He can't. [Chilton tilted his head to the other side, his chin angled out. Easier to outright appraise the young man before him.] He can't kill you. Oh, not to say he hasn't been tempted. Not to say he hasn't fantasized about it. But you've just illuminated some void in your young adult life, a collection of small agonies and familial failures, and Walter White could identify with that. He could relate. You must speak to that underutilized yet throbbing sense of guilt he still maintains. And maybe part of him knows it, and maybe he's horrified and relieved. Maybe this paradox of emotions makes him want to hurt you.

[Jesse Pinkman. Walt's eternal aspiration.]

Your very existence allows him to fulfill so many desired roles, Jesse. That's invaluable.

It will all be worth it, Walt. Every -- stunt you pull, every denigration I suffer at your hand. I will welcome my triumph all the more.

[It was unusual, for Chilton to speak with such thermal conviction, his aspirations in absolute parallel to his emotions on the matter. Chilton did not jerk away, nor did he flinch, when Walt touched him. He took it, like he had taken everything else this evening, with the cold comfort of Walter White's propelled arc. Submission would feed into Walt's ego, his submission specifically. Didn't that justify his sudden cowardice? Didn't that amplified any afterthought strategy behind his enjoyment of Walt's aggression?]

Did you used to think about me this much? Considering my psychological profile, goodness. [He didn't respond to that earlier provocation: something more stimulating. The words alone were enough to make one blush.] How long will you be thinking of this after we leave? Do memories still haunt you, memories of loved ones you've screwed, do those still whisper doubts in your mind? Or do I overshadow them now? Is anger that much easier for you?

[Chilton thought it was.]

Oh, my, Raina. You're the singular messiah who I'd come to at every touching parable.

[Excessive emphasis on that last syllable, his way of a specifically lurid pun.]

I'll see what I can do to hasten my return. Until then -- [A beat.] I love what you mean to me, Raina. I really do.

[Open acknowledgement of suicidal consideration. Ultimately rejected by Ruka, of course, but it was interesting that she pursued self-infliction rather than the alternative. An erasure of the memories of others that one had accumulated could be a type of violence, and she understood that.

What an empath, indeed.]

Quite the statement, given our casual propensity to not always die. Erasure in this context could indicate identity more than literal life.

[Which was more horrifying, and more titillating, in Chilton's opinion.]

Then moving onto the next solution -- compartmentalizing. You've already been doing that somewhat, by my observation, but what about creating psychological separations with greater purpose?

Goodness, Frederick.

[ Raina said it laughingly. He certainly had a way with words. Chilton could caress with them just as well as with his hands or other appendages. The smile remained until the closing comment. And with a touch of insecurity, she asked: ]

But do you love me?

[And softly, after a considerable beat:]

Of course I do, Raina. I love you. In a manner that I cannot possibly relate to nor claim for any other individual.

[And that was, perhaps, the part that unnerved him the most. But Chilton understood the value of words, and he was not about to mince his now.]

Psychological separations? [ She eases back from the more defensive posture of the last query--that sort of extreme tactic is one she's had to reject more times than this--a genuine curiosity in her tone. ] How do you mean that?

You don't get a triumph. Not the way you're imagining one.

[ Walt planned to die. To rid himself of this world and his problems once and for all. Chilton would never get the satisfaction of having Walt.

His hand slipped down to Chilton's throat, thumb pressing lightly against his Adam's apple, feeling the vibration of Chilton's voice against his touch. He remained calm -- completely cold and calm as Chilton unleashed his verbal attack, tearing into Walter's motivations, picking apart his psychology while simultaneously reminding him of the family back home that hated him.

And it was just as calmly that Walt's hand removed itself from Chilton's neck. It raised and swiftly came down to backhand the psychiatrist unless he had enough foresight to either hinder its progression or get out of the way. ]

You still have so much fight in you. And I wouldn't have it any other way. That will make tearing you down into nothing just that much more enjoyable, Chilton.

- IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

no subject

voice;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

voice;

voice;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

voice;

no subject

no subject

voice;

no subject

no subject

no subject

voice;

no subject

voice;

voice;

no subject

no subject