- IC CONTACT POST FOR MASKORMENACE -

[slightlyoffchilt]

"Hello.

You've reached the direct line of Doctor Frederick Chilton. As I am not available at the moment, you might assume I'm quite busy with something pressing. State your name and business, and I will return your call."

Comments

[slightlyoffchilt]

I'm not bothered by it, Jesse. I'm simply stating fact.

[Clearly his subjective adjectives prescribed counted as fact.]

Martyrdom doesn't necessitate physical enjoyment. It isn't masochism. That's the point.

It's more... Emotional.

[hostage]

So I'm a martyr because I don't like it?

[slightlyoffchilt]

No. You're a martyr because you can't stop. Not when it comes to other people.

[hostage]

I'm just doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

[slightlyoffchilt]

As according to whom?

[hostage]

Everybody. Isn't that what we're here for?

[slightlyoffchilt]

You'll take everybody's alleged word over your own health and sanity?

[hostage]

My health isn't worth worrying about and my sanity wasn't there to begin with.

[slightlyoffchilt]

And you've just confessed the last qualification for martyr complex, well done.

[hostage]

Okay. I still don't really know what that means, but whatever.

Look - This whole healing gig? It's like the first good thing I've ever done in my life. The only thing. And, yeah, it doesn't make up for all the horrible shit I do. But I'm good at it and it doesn't bother me.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Do you use it indiscriminately? Do you heal anyone who needs it?

[hostage]

Yeah.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Even me?

[hostage]

[Well, he looks mildly startled by the question.]

Yeah..?

[slightlyoffchilt]

I'm going to hold you to that, Mr. Pinkman.

[He says it as if such a dire circumstance is not only a probability, but simply a matter of time.]

Anything else you'd like to get off your chest, while we're cuddled in the same room?

[hostage]

[Considering what happened between Chilton and Walt in Baltimore...]

You know I can't help you against him, right? I'm not strong enough. Literally.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Or what happens to Chilton in any Baltimore, ever. Especially his own.]

I just need the medical aid. The reassurance of health insurance.

[hostage]

Okay... But if it's him you're planning to piss off, you'll be strawberry daiquiri before I can get anywhere near you.

[slightlyoffchilt]

I'm not planning to enrage him, no.

[It just often happens.]

But I'm aware of statistical likelihoods.

[hostage]

He can do worse than just sedate you, and a gun's the least of your problems. I'm saying this 'cause I don't want you to think I got you covered.

I mean - Has he done it to you? The worst of it. Probably not, I guess, 'cause your body couldn't even begin to handle it. But he can take you apart, you know? From inside. Down to your cells. And if you think you've felt pain before, you still have no idea what that feels like.

[slightlyoffchilt]

I -- I am aware. [That slight hesitance, that informative stutter.] I am aware of what he can do to some extent.

[Conium maculatum. Dopamine. Opposite ends of the spectrum, yet equally unnerving.]

He has played with my neurotransmitters.

[hostage]

[Jesse nods slowly. Oh, he's been there.]

That's just the beginning. That's what he does for fun. You get me? He can fuck with anything. Not just the brain, but any part of you. If he wanted to, he could leave nothing behind.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Has he done that to you? To your... Body parts?

[hostage]

He started to. 'til I begged.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Begged him.

[Chilton's lips curled at that, his disdain unapologetic.]

Oh, how he craves begging.