slightlyoffchilt | - IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

[Chilton moved to unlock the cabinet holding his bourbon, ready to pour two glasses. He had already cleaned out that stock, since Walt's invasion, and had since been monitoring his liquors more soundly. Chilton, having accepted Abduxel's gift, nevertheless put it aside -- he'd test it later, for any unwelcomed additives.]

I wasn't sure how serious you were, at the time. You'll have to forgive my underestimation.

[He will find that the alcohol is not tampered-with. Chilton, this isn't how you do trust.]

There seems to be a pattern of underestimation between us, Frederick. We work together now, if you aren't aware. Is it because I'm a demon? Or because of how our friendship began?

[He follows idly after Chilton as he speaks, his tone friendly even as it broaches subjects like this.]

More so the latter, I imagine. Demons I can work with. [A little wry humor there; he isn't even speaking solely of Lucifer. He offered Abduxel a generous glass, waiting for the demon to indulge before he did.] But I try not to make a habit of underestimation. Hasn't served me well in the past.

[He takes the glass, but doesn't drink yet.] Of the two of us, I think I'm the trustworthy one, Dr. Chilton. I've never lied to you, never taken advantage of you. [He smiles.] Besides on Walter's orders, naturally. As your employee, I've never given you reason to mistrust me.

You, on the other hand... [He gestures that glass towards Chilton,] You used your abilities on me quite opportunistically. While I was your employee, and while we were closing a deal, no less. But here I am - water under the bridge. That said, I feel like we should foster some trust between us, don't you?

Edited 2015-07-16 03:11 (UTC)

What sort of trust?

[He couldn't help the skepticism slithering in his voice -- it was only natural, only self-preservative, that Chilton would question every other word from another's mouth. Such was that of his worldly perspective.]

Are you suggesting some sort of bonding exercise?

Yes, I guess you could call it that.

I need you to trust me when I tell you this: if you ask me to stop, I will stop.

Because if you sedate me again, Dr. Chilton, it's going to put a significant strain on our working relationship. And I don't think either of us can afford that right now.

[He sets his glass down on a surface, untouched, and pulls long black gloves out of his pocket, which he starts to put on. Somehow made all the creepier by how much cheer his voice still carries.]

Do you understand?

Yes.

[His tone lowers to something barely above a murmur. It's soft, demure -- a gossamer gauze for how cautious Chilton suddenly was. His eyes were on Abduxel and that glove, his shoulders were tense.]

Our bonding experience isn't going to involve some degree of punishment, is it?

Edited 2015-07-16 03:48 (UTC)

I'm not here to punish you. I'm not angry. I'm here to show you that you can trust me.

[He steps towards Chilton once he has those gloves on, head tilted, getting in his space. But his body language is decidedly not sensual, not seductive, even when he brings his gloved hand up to touch Chilton's face; this is something else. His gaze is colder, his smile fading to a serious expression, the touch stiff.]

So ask me to stop, when you want me to.

[He didn't want to admit that he did not know what was going on. That confession of ignorance seemed more condemning than his blithe sarcasm or cutting sneer -- but that hand, in those fingerprint-masking gloves, stiff on his face inspired a little doubt in Chilton's mind.

Perhaps, sometimes, ego wasn't the endgame.]

Explain to me what you're doing.

[He shifts his hand to grip Chilton rather roughly by the chin, pushing his head back a little just to show his control. Plainly,]

I'm crossing your boundaries, doctor. I'm making you uncomfortable.

[That smile blossoms, wolfish and evil, only long enough to say:]

I think it's working.

[And then his expression is suddenly cold again and he steps forward, forcing Chilton back.]

[That's when it clicked. The longer Chilton could endure Abduxel's aggression, the more he would appear to trust the demon -- or, at least, to be capable of trust. And given his predicament with Raina, given his complications with a deal he might have insinuated he had already signed, the psychiatrist needed to at least seem capable in such a manner. He needed to stagger to his limits.

Chilton was no match in strength, a fact that they both already understood; he fell back as Abduxel handled him, his flesh caving to Abduxel's forceful whims.]

I think you're worth a little bit of discomfort, Abduxel.

[He managed to hiss out.]

[His hand now floats down to slide around Chilton's throat in a full-palmed grip, not pressing yet in the slightest, except that the tips of his thumb and forefinger push up at the hinge of Chilton's jaw, forcing him to expose his neck more still. His eyes are lidded as he watches his own action, gaze then flicking back up to make eye contact. He comes in close, nearly whispering.]

I'm not here to hurt you. But I will if you don't tell me to stop. It's no skin off my back.

I trust you.

[He lied, keeping what eye contact he could at that facial angle. His hands twitched at his side, searing at the need to defend himself -- but the psychiatrist controlled the impulse. His pulse throbbed. His heart rate sped.]

You're important to me, to our -- ack, our operation.

[Abduxel laughs faintly, and squeezes. Just a little.]

I don't think you understand the exercise, Dr. Chilton. Are you uncomfortable?

This -- is not the most uncomfortable I've been.

[It's fine, he wants to follow up with, but considers how that might just provoke the demon.]

We're doing well, aren't we?

[His fingertips press in roughly. With a bit more vigor:]

That's not what I asked you. If you're uncomfortable, tell me to stop.

Nngh -- I'm not. Uncomfortable. Abduxel.

[He said through clenched teeth.]

But I am getting irritated.

[He pushes him to a wall, hard, and snaps:]

Tell me to stop. You're the boss here. So tell me and I will obey.

[A groan followed, along with an arched back, and Chilton -- despite the circumstance -- broke into a sharpened grin.]

Do you think that manufacturing boundaries demonstrates restraint? Self control? I want to see you obey me when it hurts.

That is trust.

[His expression falters a little. That's... that's an awfully good point.

He heaves a frustrated sigh, and hesitates; is this goading to go farther, to hurt him and be called off? Or is this a warning that his little exercise is just plain futile? It might be telling that he doesn't escalate the aggression in this moment, unlike the previous pattern of taking everything-but-no as 'yes, continue.']

I already have, Dr. Chilton. It hurts me not to tear you apart for that little trick you played. But here I am, trying to take the high road.

[Oh, is that what this is...??]

So you are looking for a way to vent your vindictive little self, is that right?

[Chilton, smug once more, wiggled his fingers in reference. They both knew Abduxel to be spiteful, but (wondered Chilton) to what length? What priority ranked vengeance on the demon's personal list? It was a thing to consider.]

Does the high road involve releasing me, or not?

[Irritated, he lets go of Chilton suddenly. Evidently, vengeance didn't rate quite as high as whatever he was trying to accomplish now.]

If you'd followed the exercise, you'd see that isn't the case.

[There's rather suddenly a knife in his hand, but he's turning his back to Dr. Chilton already by that time, intending to stride rather briskly from the room to the nearest mirror. Of course, he knows exactly where it is, and he intends to mark all of them.]

I'm not much of a follower, Abduxel.

[Chilton adjusted his tie, smoothing over the contours of his suit. He watched the demon with a clinical interest now. Abduxel's compliance was noteworthy, and the psychiatrist intended to observe for patterns. He took a notebook from his desk, flipping it open, his eyes locked to the demon.]

Yes, I'm rapidly getting that impression. You have to be aware I'm trying to give you control, so that you stop feeling the need to preemptively defend against me.

[His voice is tense, annoyed. He glances over his shoulder at Chilton as he pulls the gloves off, tucking them haphazardly into a pocket.] Working with you is truly in my best interest. It never really was, with Walter. That's the difference.

[It's... a little bit true. But not totally. Money and freedom were great, with Walter, and stalking people was his idea of a good time. There was nothing wrong with it, really. He might have preferred not to get fired. But now that he did, this was in his best interests, especially as he thought Chilton had made that deal with Lucifer; but even without it, that would be the case. For now.

He looks away to draw blood along his forearm, and then tucks the dirtied knife into his expensive black suit, before using his forefinger to write the small sigil on the bottom corner of the mirror.

He says some gutteral word, and the blood on the glass is suddenly dried there.]

Giving me control isn't quite the same. [Taking it was more familiar to Chilton, more resonate with his engagement with power structures. He felt that rarely had anything been simply given to him -- he's had to manipulate, to cajole, to negotiate with for his little empire.

An eyebrow raises as Abduxel makes that claim. Working with him, better than with Walter? The difference in monetary compensation had already been made clear. And Abduxel had his expensive tastes, now didn't he? Chilton made a few notes on his pad, frowning all the while.]

How many are you going to do that to?

[The unearthly display was, undoubtedly, unnerving.]

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