[Chilton walked over, taking the seat next to Walt -- but a cushion over, so that they weren't touching on that softly colored blue sedan. Space was a domain still acknowledged. He listened as Walt spoke, this monologue of sorrow and angst pouring out from the other man's mouth. The suicide in of itself didn't surprise him -- obviously the attempt had failed. But did Walter know it would fail? Did the man have a healing power, or had someone been around who did? Had this been a sincere attempt to die? Because "in a way I still do" is in itself discouraged to be taken literally. The way Chilton saw it:]

You wanted a variable that made sense. Death is logical. It is absolute. And dying on your own terms... That is an incredible display of power, something you must have fought for back home. [Whether Walt was fighting himself or external forces was a different matter.] Very little is going to make as much sense in this world, Walt. This... Factor of timespace. The fluid curvature of our past and future. Nonlinear concerns are going to be yet another challenge to conquer.

[Chilton leaned closer to Walt -- still respecting the space between them, still keeping his hands to himself. His gaze focused on the other man's face.]

You have to make them doubt what they will come to know. You have to make them deny what you will have done to them. The time that you've got now is crucial -- do not waste this resource on histrionic exhibitions. If you can win them over before they even realize why, that will provide to you some measure of influence.