slightlyoffchilt | - IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

You're always available for a chat, right?

[Good thing he has his patient contact information already in his phone, right?]

Absolutely, Billy. What's on your mind?

Yeah, where are you? This should be in person.

Currently? I'm at my residence. Housing Unit #009.

Okay hang on-

[And a couple of minutes later, there is a knock at the door, because Billy has manners. When Chilton opens it, Billy is on the other side holding a box of rugelach from the local kosher bakery, because it's not exactly office hours and everyone loves rugelach.]

[Chilton (by now familiar with some extent of Billy's powers), had expected his patient to arrive swiftly -- such was the implication. But it was one thing to know, abstractly, about this prowess and quite another to see it demonstrated. He took a quick breath, opening the door to reveal a standing Billy Kaplan.

And Billy had in his hands an offering.]

Come in, please.

[He took a step aside, allowing Billy to move inwards. Subvert in his glance, Chilton analyzed the living room; it was hardly undisclosed. He'd despise Hans walking by, and the area was born free enterprise.]

Let's talk in my personal quarters. Just up the stairs, first door on the left -- do you want anything to drink, with those?

No, it's fine, I mean, I didn't bring milk or anything, but if you want-

I'll meet you up there?

[He keeps hold of the pink box, at least for now. Usually, he wouldn't do this. Usually he would go to Kate but well, finding out his grandfather was here, and apparently also twelve, topped with the Emma Frost telepathic invasion bow, he thought maybe Chilton was the better first person to talk to.

He already starts heading up, though, running one hand through his hipster hair.]

[Watching Billy for a moment, as he takes to the stairs, Chilton turns to the kitchen. Milk isn't quite his usual indulgence, but he grabs two small glasses and the pint with the handle -- he squeezes the two glasses against himself with one arm, and those same fingers held onto the handled milk. His other hand gripped the silver cane that he used to walk with.

It was easier, to obscure it behind the door, but still necessary to tackle the stairs.]

Shall we begin?

[He asked upon entering his own room. His area aesthetic mimicked that of his home in Baltimore, except downscaled in both size and quality. While he couldn't afford quite the same luxury that a decade running a mental asylum had bought him, Chilton nevertheless maintained the sleek minimalistic feel: his framed art was abstract, but prints (rather than originals proper) and in cooler shades of blue and gray, while his white furniture (a chair, a bed stand, a bookshelf with a growing psychiatric library) looked spotless. His slender work desk followed the same clean look, and his laptop sat on top (but closed). His closet was angled shut, his cerulean bedsheets pristine.]

[Trust him, with this rugelach, milk is necessary. Billy looks around for a moment, finds the chair, and sits, and looks up at the ceiling for a moment. Where to start.]

Do you know who Magneto is? Erik Lensherr?

[He doesn't know what he's been told, what he's heard.]

I've only heard of him in passing.

[Briefly, just a name. The context surrounding that name was lacking -- but clearly, it was a name made profound for Billy.]

Who is he, to you?

[Maybe that's enough.

Billy sighs a bit, and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get the words out. Not because they're difficult, but because it's family.]

He's my grandfather.

And he's here. But he's young. I don't even know if he's been married yet. I couldn't bring myself to ask.

[A beat. Familial matters. A loaded gun, as it were, since he and Billy had focused more on Billy's anxiety and the implicit complexes that come from such a power.

Chilton measured his bullets.]

His temporal situation may very well disrupt any... Confrontation you'd be interested in having with him. [Billy wouldn't have brought this to Chilton, if there wasn't some history to acknowledge between them. Chilton wanted to know that history, the nature of it.] What sort of challenge does his presence pose in Heropa, for you?

Well.

[Pause.]

At this age he's sort of a supervillain.

[That is just the tip of the iceberg, really. Billy is showing all the classic signs of anxiety, although he's far from an attack - fidgeting and being unable to stop moving, his breathing increasing pace just slightly.]

And I don't know if I say anything. Do I say anything? He's my grandfather, but he's also sort of gunning to wipe out the entire species of Homo sapiens.

[Chilton had paused, in the middle of setting down the milk and glasses on his white table, to soak in the words that ushered a genocide. Glancing back at his patient, he offers a careful smile.]

Do you have any reason to believe that he would pursue such an ambition in this universe? These are his more familiar humans, after all.

[How rational was the grandfather, even in his youth? That was the question pitching. To Chilton's credit, the expression he wears is one composed.]

I don't know. Maybe?

[Billy looks over at him, eyebrows up]

Professor Xavier is here so maybe that will help but I don't know. I only know him when he's older and he's already gotten those urges out of his system.

[That isn't really meant to be a joke but ha ha it's a little funny, right? Right? Probably not.]

Ah yes. Professor Xavier.

[That was a man he had more intimate details on. He knew his slight tonal inflection would indicate recognition -- Billy was a perceptive kid, after all.]

Would it be accurate to suggest that Professor Xavier wields a decent amount of influence over your grandfather? Urges mitigated, and what not. If nothing else, your ability to now interact with Erik his youth would surely elucidate details of his life. [A beat.] Which, quite obviously, might reveal a reflection of yourself. Not in the genocidal since, mind but other -- well urges is quite the loaded term, isn't it? Let's say impulses.

[He does notice, but that's not surprising. Everyone's heard of Professor X. And Billy has some details, but probably about as many as Chilton, to be honest.]

I don't know. They're friends - they've always been friends, I guess, except when Magneto wanted to kill him...or stop him? I never asked, it was never really clear.

[And a consideration]

He's a member of my family that I really wanted to get to know better, because I thought knowing him would...help me figure out who I am.

[Always been friends. Chilton quirked an eyebrow, noting that Magneto was a mere blip on Danger's radar. How interesting, when orbits intersected, even briefly. The gravity of behavior was never to be underestimated.]

Then this is an opportunity.

[He phrased it like a decisive offer; what better way to see one's own reflection in a their blood than with direct interaction? Especially since Erik will be as close to Billy's age, now, as ever.]

But surely. [He paused, to pour two glasses of milk.] You have reservations? About what you might figure out, through him?

[There's a moment, and Billy uncoils to grab the glass. It's so fucking wholesome. He's not actually always this...goody goody.

But no seriously those cookies need it.]

If your grandson showed up here, and said in the future you have grandkids, hey, and he's him, what would you say?

I'm not going to procreate.

[Children didn't much suit Chilton. Goodness, normal, neurotypical people barely suited Chilton.]

But -- to humor the hypothetical -- [Because otherwise, it's quite the dickish statement, to his young patient.] -- then I would be rather invested in knowing him. Disbelief might be the typical first stage, but I imagine the whole transdimensional travel might have desensitized Erik from greater shock.

I don't think he thought so, either.

So you think I tell him?

[He reaches and takes a piece of rugelach, and puts it in his mouth. Omnomnom.]

It's the best way to begin the dialogue that you desire. I think the greater consequence lies with obscuring the information, don't you agree? One way or another, he'll find out.

[A light shrug follows, and a small smile is the companion expression.]

You've seen how this Network tends to function. An interactive gossip rag, if there ever was one.

[He takes a moment. It makes sense. From all accounts, Erik values family, in his own way. He was happy to know he had grandsons. But he thinks of Pietro, who crankily hated his father, and Wanda, who was...ambiguous.

He wishes it was a little clearer.]

And a lot of people know.

[Meaning it might be worse coming from someone else.]

[Chilton nods. Billy's words weigh aptly, and he considers them -- he gives the impression of such, at least.]

A lot of people who probably take a great interest in your well-being, and his. Or, at least, his interest in you.

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