slightlyoffchilt | - IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

[Chilton glanced over to catch sight of Mr. Lucas Miller's face before instinct hyped his limbs to jump. He hadn't expected to see that mask again, not after Walt had his way with the young victim's face. It was disturbing to endure more exposure -- the memory of Lucas's brutal grin while holding that gun to Chilton's head was still vibrant in the psychiatrist's mind.]

Psychological warfare, already? I thought this was supposed to be pleasant, Walt.

[A thought that was exaggerated in Chilton's mouth, surely.]

[ 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?

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.]

[ Walt stared at Chilton for a moment when his expression became something....he didn't think the man capable of. Was that concern for someone other than himself? Was that concern for Abduxel or the woman? He studied Chilton a bit too long, feeling a stir of anger without knowing the true source. And then he let go of his wrist in disgust. ]

Fine. You go find the seat. I'll be back.

[ He ignored the age jab and ignored the comment on projecting. Walt stalked off to the bathroom, disappeared into one of the stalls and just sat there for a few minutes -- trying to wrap his head around everything. Trying to make sense of it all. And when he emerged, not clear-headed but calmer, he was himself once again.

He left the bathroom and found Chilton. ]

Our first face to face meeting involved us sharing a drink. Do you remember it? Well, that's a stupid question. Of course you do. Do you remember every single detail? I should have walked out on you that day.

But you didn't, because I had intrigued you.

[Chilton said with some tonal playfulness in his accusation. He was already nursing a rye whiskey on the rocks when Walt returned -- both of them now true to form. The psychiatrist glanced Walt up and down, apparently in muted approval.]

I exuded enough prestige to catch your attention and hold onto it, Walt. You're far too brilliant and narcissistic to have found lasting satisfaction in teaching high school chemistry.

[Chilton always had a disdain for those of the teaching profession, and it was a relief to know that Walt was so much more.]

-- Even if you noticed the perks. How many other young men had you taken beneath your wing, I wonder?

Edited 2015-08-07 00:47 (UTC)

[ Walt gave Chilton a look and then paused to order his drink -- a shot glass of scotch. He didn't intend on getting drunk here, considering what just transpired after a night of drinking. But Walt hadn't slept at all the night before and he had barely eaten anything, having been too nauseous -- whether that was because of what happened with Jesse or the hangover, who knew. But either way, it probably wouldn't take much for him to feel the effects now, even though he only planned on having a couple drinks. ]

I'm sure you know the answer to that, Chilton. Don't pretend you don't know every single person I interact with and for how long, and what was said during the conversations. You are obsessed with me, after all.

[ He settled beside the other man with the glass hugged in his palms. ]

It wasn't so much intrigue, by the way. I hated you then just like I do now. But there's something comforting in hating you. I understand it. I'm sure it's why no matter what happens between us, we always seem to find our way back to this point.

You hated me. Even then? [This seemed to surprise Chilton -- or, at least, he hadn't anticipated this early vitriol so forcefully inspired by his usual charm. Another sip of his drink, and he set it down to lean closer into Walt's space. It was the sort of invasive leer he had long ago weaponized.] Who says animosity can't be intriguing, Heisenberg?

[The smirk he wore was predatory. Chilton moved to loosen the knot in his own tie, assuming some mimicry of ease and comfort.]

Hate is passionate. It's honest. There's nothing quite as forthright as hostility. And moreover it's the singular emotion that you know you can trust -- someone as emotionally unstable as yourself needs to know where he can tread without fear. What you have with me isn't like your protege usurping your dominion.

Is it?

From the very first conversation we had.

[ Walt glanced over at the man beside him, slightly startled by the personal space invasion. He drew back a few inches upon instinct, sacrificing so that Chilton could have more space to himself. Walt considered what Chilton had to say about hate until he said what he did about Jesse, compared them in some way -- even though there was no comparison. ]

You're not even bothering to hide that you're using this as an opportunity to analyze me, are you? Look, you don't know a damn thing about Jesse and myself. Jesse can never take what belongs to me. And he wouldn't want to. So there will be no usurping going on.

But it almost sounds to me like you're comparing the both of you out of jealousy. Don't tell me you want to be what Jesse is in my life.

Or is is the sex that you're jealous of?

Arguable, your claim about my firsthand knowledge about Pinkman. But you -- oh, Walt, no. I understand you intimately.

[The word was practically licked as Chilton tasted his own teeth.]

But while I understand you, I can humor your defensive nature. I don't envy what you've made Pinkman into, no. [Made into, forged. Chilton was still convinced that Jesse Pinkman was corroded and branded by Walter White's hand. What was an undisturbed metal was now a chemical alloy, reborn in the burning flame of Walter's megalomania.]

But that doesn't mean I won't engage you on my own terms, of course, Walt. I want to. Isn't that why I'm here, with you, right now?

Or did you think you had control of the situation?

[Chilton leaned back a little, once more indulging in his whiskey. The ceiling lights, dimmed in their evening dusk, caught glint in the watch that Walt had bought Chilton. The watch he wore willingly.]

[ The look Walt gave Chilton cut deeper than any words ever could. Did Chilton seriously ask that question? That caustic, burning question that Walt read as a challenge. It was the way things had always been between them -- a battle for control and dominance. His eyes lingered on the gift he gave Chilton -- given in Baltimore, forever associated with their time in Baltimore. ]

Did you.

[ He hissed in retaliation before he mirrored Chilton's actions, tilting his glass back and taking a sip. Walt's hand -- the wedding band returned to his finger, found Chilton's knee beneath the lip of the counter. ]

Do you have control of yourself around me anymore, Chilton?

[ The hand began to climb. ]

When you feel my touch -- do you fight it or welcome it with open arms?

[ Fingers tapered inward, along the inseam of Chilton's slacks. ]

You asked me right before you fell to the poison why I chose dopamine as my attack. And I think the answer is pretty clear.

[ His palm finally reached Chilton's belt, having no qualms about feeling him through his pants. ]

[Chilton's mouth went dry. The hand holding his glass began to shake -- and while it shook subtly so, the quaking movement would have been only barely visible if not for the motion ripples in his disturbed drink. He kept Walt's gaze only out of pride, fearing additional humiliation, as the chemist slid that articulate hand upwards his thigh. What struck him in particular was the sensation of that wedding band enraptured around a finger that smoothed along his slacks. It was a reminder of Walt's guilt that was now showcased, presently perverted. That ring and its currently proximity to Chilton was as much a psychological attack as anything Walt was saying.]

Walter.

[And then his belt was threatened. Chilton's gaze dropped, his composure shattering. He resisted squirming, but he couldn't deny the warmth felt. He couldn't disregard the conflict, the friction. It was familiar, almost Pavlovian at this point --

Almost, nothing. It was Pavlovian.]

Why didn't this work on Pinkman?

[ Walt made a face when Jesse was brought up, looking away from Chilton. But he didn't draw his hand back. If anything, it caused him to begin idly brushing his fingers against the area, stroking subtly. Not a single person in this room but them would know what was going on unless either of them reacted in a suspicious manner -- and Walt was pretty much daring Chilton to react. ]

Because you ruined things between us.

[ It was easier, of course, to blame Chilton. He did help to accelerate the deterioration of Walt's and Jesse's partnership. A deterioration that would have happened naturally over time regardless -- but Chilton provided an outside source to take it out on. Something to blame outside of Walter himself. Chilton drugged Walt and then made Walt confess to Jesse about drugging him, too. And that, really, had been all it took to start the downhill spiral of his and Jesse's relationship -- to start Jesse's move toward freedom and equality. ]

You coming into my life has pushed him out of it. You and your obsessions and manipulations. So therefore, you have to suffer the consequences.

[ Single-handedly, he loosened Chilton's belt in order to casually slide his hand within unless Chilton did something to stop it -- all while calmly taking a sip of his drink. ]

Pinkman's freshly understood autonomy wasn't born from my mere presence, Walt. [Chilton stared straight ahead, his hands having now abandoned their whiskey glass were flat over the counter -- palms down. He was consciously regulating his breathing, intentionally keeping his voice at an unassuming, conversational pitch.

Walt was right in that this was a dare above all else; Chilton, cunning and analytical, understood that implication. It was rebellion enough, to just continue making his argument. It was defiance proven, if he could keep concentrating.]

I didn't imbue you with your controlling habits, Walt. I didn't instill your insecurities -- that's all upon you. If such personality traits were somewhat provoked by my guidance, that is simply because consequences happen during the healing process. You ought to know that. You had cancer.

[The psychiatrist swallowed. Hard. He had already lost one battle of wills, could he afford to lose another?]

Pinkman reacted to your treatment of him. I had nothing to do with that.

[Warmth stirred, and Chilton glanced down again.]

Chilton, you had a far more direct hand in what happened, so let's not try to play innocent. Innocent is unbecoming of you.

[ And the barrier was breached, fingers slowly invading unfamiliar territory. He could feel Chilton, the warmth and strain against his undergarments. It was pleasing to know he caused such a chemical reaction without a single chemical being administered.

Things with Jesse had been chaotic. Walt enjoyed it, of course, if only because it had been so long since he was intimate -- but it wasn't how he wanted it. This was his chance to take back some of that control. Because what was Chilton if not the source of this mess? ]

You were the reason Jesse ever found out about me drugging him. And ever since then, things haven't been the same. If you had just left me alone, things with me and Jesse would be fine right now.

But you can't leave me alone, can you? I'm your obsession. I complete you. Allow me a moment to psychoanalyze you -- and you don't have to talk. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't.

[ Which was when the exploration on the outskirts of Chilton's briefs ceased and the exact moment his hand dipped in for a little skin to skin contact of a different sort, fairly certain that this alone would keep Chilton from speaking. ]

The reason you want me around so badly, the reason why you feel like you have to capitalize off of my legacy is because I represent everything you wish you could be. You wish you had the guts... [ He flashed a knowing smirk at Chilton, letting that linger for a few seconds before continuing on. ] ...to be like me. To live life on your own terms. To do something monumental. Something worthwhile. Something that people will talk about and remember for ages to come. What will be your legacy, Chilton? The guy who writes books about guys like me? You have the ability to craft and mold people's personalities like masterpieces. And yet, you will never get the credit for it that you deserve.

Is that really a satisfying life?

Edited 2015-08-08 06:30 (UTC)

[Walter White and his power dynamics. This is what a cultivated case of Narcissistic Personality Disorder and a martyr complex wrought -- that was a concoction of personality defects that proved rare enough (in Chilton's experience), but the latter could be come warped, even malformed, by the former. Ego was no frail negotiator. Chilton took a sharp, uneven breath when Walt dared to cross that boundary. When Walt invoked a new genre of power.

Possession. Sensitivity to betrayal. Emotional instability. While Walt's NPD was formidable, and his martyr complex twisted unconventionally, they both peeled away to the dominion of the chemist's Borderline Personality Disorder. The compounding of these personality disorders was the psychological equivalent to sulfur mustard.

He winced, when Walt spoke of his guts. He frowned, his brow furrowed, when Walt alluded to his envy, to his vicarious triumph. Chilton clenched his hands into fists -- he felt what Walt was doing. Physical intimidation, psychological taunting. The audacity that Walt could demonstrate, cornering and touching him like that. The fact that he knew Chilton wouldn't dare risk a scene in such a cultured and elegant setting.

The fact that he knew Chilton wanted Walt to fracture. It was just that the psychiatrist had always assumed that Pinkman or Abduxel would be the target. He had always assumed that he would play the part of manipulator and observer. The scavenger wasn't the intended prey. Something stirred in Chilton -- anxiety, yes, but he felt equally galvanized. He felt his veins throb with blood.]

You're not concerned about my satisfaction, Walt. Only your own. [At last he looked over to the man he still considered his patient, his head slowly angled sideways for a good look.] And that is fine, after all. I do. Admire. What you are becoming. What you have done.

[Despite the measured calm in his voice, his eyes were wide. Walt had punctured at Chilton's motivations, he had verbally brought that to Chilton's ear. And now there was no denying it.]

But I will satisfy you. I can. You know damn well I can.

[ He spared a glance downward -- his hand movements so very subtle beneath the table, but still moving. Still grasping and touching and violating. Chilton had gone in and violated Walt's mind, so this was only fair. It was justice -- one Chilton had started, one that Jesse fanned the flames of, and now one that Walt was going to finish. ]

And it's only right, isn't it? To give back to my creator. To give back to the man who made me everything I am right now.

[ Walt set down the glass before reaching out with his free hand. His index finger pressed to the side of Chilton's stubbled jaw, turning his face toward him. ]

I'm crazy, Chilton. Mentally unstable. [ The corner of his lips quirked upward. ] And I think that excites you. I think it gives you a thrill. I think you're so perverted and twisted that you get off on danger. And well, Chilton....

[ Walt leaned over, whispering with a wolfish grin: ]

I am the danger.

[It was chilling. A cold finger down his spine, that's what it felt like when Walt referred to Chilton as his creator. It was completion, it was fulfilling -- this was what Hannibal had craved from Will Graham, this very acknowledgment. This kind of influence. Had Chilton succeeded where Lecter failed? He held his breath, his lower abdomen shivering, the heat between his thighs undeniable and very, deeply human.]

You're right.

[Chilton murmured the words, two little words. He felt Walt, the warmth between their bodies, the electricity in the air. He couldn't move his face away, not with Walt's anchoring it to his own with that singular finger.]

You're doing this because I created you. I took what was left of your and forced a opus. And if you think a little close encounter is going to inspire any twitch of guilt, Walt, I must say. You should know better.

-- But that isn't what you want, is it? You don't want my remorse. You want my dignity. And -- [He couldn't help what did twitch, in response to Walt's invasive force. He couldn't help that.] You know you can just take it.

I forged you, Walt. I manifested you. [A break in his voice, in his composure, betrayed the high emotions running beneath that aloof sneer.] Does that not mean anything to you?

[A beseech to Walt's humanity, perhaps. But Chilton had miscalculated; Jesse Pinkman had been the inch of that humanity. And now that measurement was gone.]

[ The only humanity left was simply fumes of guilt -- guilt, regret and remorse for Skyler and what he had done to her. But that guilt had been swallowed in favor of this. Jesse took from Walt, and Walt paid it forward to take from Chilton. And the instant he could make the man lose control of himself, he won this little game -- whether it be to stop him from what he was doing or an unintended release.

His grasp tensed and his rhythm increased from the slow and steady to moderately quick. Chilton was reacting just the way Walt wanted him to, and his pride alone kept this going -- fanned the flames. Chilton even took Walt's words and accepted them, donning the title of Creator without fuss or fight. So predictable when it came to Frederick Chilton -- arrogant and cocky son of a bitch. ]

Something happened in Baltimore, Chilton. I didn't leave it as the same man I went in. And that was thanks to you. I realized something there. You are vital to me. In ways even Jesse is not. The way you make me feel, Chilton -- my hatred for you makes me alive again. You ruined my life while simultaneously becoming the center of my world.

You did create me. This me. And now I no longer want to simply dominate and control you.

[ His mouth neared Chilton's ear, words nothing more than a husky whisper. ]

I want to own you.

[ A beat. ]

Now. How long can you hold back before you burst, I wonder? Whether it be through words and protests or....otherwise. Either way, you're going to give me what I want.

I'm not. I'm -- not going to -- ohgod. [Chilton blinked -- metaphorically. He had stared down Walt, coaxed the other man to stare right back, and he had been the first to blink. The friction beneath the counter top tightened, and his reaction was to stiffen. His breath was ruptured, his focus wavering, and Chilton was beginning to panic. Walter spoke with such conviction. He not only truly believed the rhetoric, he weaponized it.]

Please. Walt. Please understand. That. I'm not Pinkman, I can't be leashed in the same manner you had done to Pinkman.

[Every word took monumental concentration. Chilton's shallow breathing was rapid and his eyes dilated. He didn't know what to do precisely, but talking had never failed him before. Speech was control, persuasion was victory.]

You want respect from me? You've already had it.

[His hands moved now, since Walt was close enough -- one slipped over Walt's nearest shoulder, the other to that corresponding bicep.]

But I cannot deliver anything more until you deliver results.

[Even while practically pinned in place, Chilton sought control through manipulation. Creating and if and then dilemma, he thought, would surely capture Walt's attention. That was the trick to wanting, as Chilton knew quite well: always keep whatever was desired in baited proximity.]

You're not content with owning one man, are -- are you? [Chilton closed his eyes, his throat drying. His very veins screamed for release.] You deserve so much beyond the singular.

You're right, Chilton. You aren't Jesse.

[ Walt stopped the movement of his hand abruptly, though he didn't release Chilton which might have been more torturous than continuing to stroke him. He glanced down at Chilton's arm around his shoulder and then at the one stationed on his bicep. After the quiet pause, he looked back into the psychiatrist's eyes. ]

You're better than Jesse. Think about it for a moment -- I have. Jesse never appreciated me. Jesse never truly respected me. Jesse doesn't give a shit about me. Not anymore. But you do. You want to see me flourish. I'm vital to you. And you have me now. Isn't this what you wanted? What you asked for? You wanted to reach out and touch my mind. You wanted to release me from the imprisonment of being Walter White. And now, I'm merely returning the favor.

[ And after the temporary reprieve, his hand began to move -- more aggressive and intense than before. The reactions of Chilton's were thrilling. Of course, his touch did waver after the comment about not wanting to own one man. Disappointing though it was, Chilton didn't fully understand Walt, although he claimed to. ]

You don't know me as well as you think you do, Chilton. And how could you? We never truly discussed this. But my mind has always been a singular focus. I no longer have Jesse. Not the way I want things with him. And if I screw up, I lose him for good. And quite frankly at this point in time, I don't care. If he wants to go hang around his replacement for me -- let him. Jesse is a disgusting piece of doublecrossing shit.

[ Never mind the fact that Walt had betrayed Jesse first. Never mind the fact that Walt tortured, taunted, threatened, and turned on Jesse first. No, in Walt's mind, Jesse was the one who made the offense. ]

Right now? You are the only one I have. The only one I want. And if you think you can just use that therapist voice of yours to convince me to stop this, clearly you're thinking too small. And you're not exactly small, are you, Chilton? I mean....no part of you is really small.

[While the brief hiatus had incurred bodily yearning -- Chilton was already deeply responsive to Walt's gesturing -- relief had accompanied it as well. Relief that he wouldn't embarrass himself, relief that he could maintain that cold composure he had worked years to manufacture. Relief that he wouldn't lose.]

Of course you're vital to me --

[Walt's hand, gripping with greater fervor, returned. Chilton clenched his jaw, hoping to camouflage his squeaked gasp. He leaned against the counter at an angle, closing the gap by degrees as his hands still gripped onto the chemist; both for the sake of greater privacy and because his own restraint was deteriorating by the moment. This could afford him something to lean on, at least, some mirage of dignity. Chilton's mind grappled for the words Walt was speaking, those pinpointed revelations sung in syllables: replacement, doublecrossing, lose. All trademark of BPD interpersonal demonizing, as according to Chilton's diagnosis. Close company to a BPD sufferer was either idolized or scrutinized, there was little in between. Little wonder why Walt was so churlish, so radical in his reassertion of power -- even if it was over Chilton rather than Pinkman.]

You're doing this -- you're finishing this. Aren't you?

[Chilton could feel the heat rise to his cheeks. Walt's comment was both compliment and control tactic. He felt appraised by the very man who was supposed to be his project.]

If you. Don't pull away --

[He was close, so close, and that made the next sequence of events all the more terrifying. Chilton's eyes went wide as their bartender checked in on them, asking about their drinks and any requests for refills. He looked to Walt, panicked, urging the other man to step in -- Chilton at present wasn't in a position to speak typically. He squeezed at Walt's bicep and shoulder, once, before relenting. This was as good as any Walt, help could have been managed.]

[ This was a shining moment of triumph for Heisenberg. Chilton, the man who had tortured him so thoroughly from the beginning -- reduced to nothing more than a breathless, struggling mass beneath his grasp. It was beautiful to behold. It was arousing. It was a thrill of complete and utter domination -- proof that Walt didn't have to rely on chemical means to get Chilton to respond to the reward. ]

Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. You don't exactly seem to want me to stop. I could be cruel. Bring you right to the peak and let go. You would still have your dignity knowing you didn't succumb fully. But man would you ache.

Why don't you tell me what it is you want, Chilton?

[ Walt had been so focused on his psychiatrist, he didn't even remember there was anyone else around. And when the bartender spoke to them, Walt glanced up -- irritated by the interruption which he viewed as a distraction. Perhaps something for Chilton to focus on outside of them to stave off the inevitable. But, as casual as could be, Walt waved his hand dismissively. ]

We're fine. The drinks are excellent. We're still working on them.

[ He lifted his glass toward the bartender when he smiled uncertainly and then went on his way. The only help, the only salvation was leaving them to tend to other patrons. And with him gone, Walt could focus entirely on Chilton. ]

You could always try begging me to stop. If that's what you want.

[Once Walt had taken care of the bartender complication, Chilton was free to shiver and quiver with that overwhelming sensation provoked upon him. He squeezes shut his eyes, riding wave after wave of abdominal clenching, palpitating urgency. He felt constrained, restrained, and yet so near a release -- it was maddening. The psychiatrist gulped air, trying to stay as balanced and alert as possible.

It wasn't very possible.]

Walter. White.

[Chilton opened his eyes wide, staring right into the other man's gaze. He held the vision of a raw and desperate man seeking compassion and knowing damn well that riverbed was desert.]

Heisenberg.

[And there he stepped into that cracked earth, dusty and dry, still ready to kneel for water.]

Let me go to the restroom. Let me -- handle this. What do. You have to gain by. Playing this card right now?

[His hands, once on Walter, now fell limply away. A surrender, a retreat -- a battle lost, perhaps, for the sake of a burning tide of warfare. But one needed to heed strategy.]

Tell me what you get out of this.

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