Just Revan, he has said. It resonated with some sense of celebrity almost, as those singular names tended to hum. Of course, perhaps that was more an Earth conceit than not -- a reference that would likely have been rude to bestow in light conversation with his newly acquainted guest. He wondered if the association (however trivial one might criticize his sense of pop culture), maintained any merit -- was Revan singular? Was there anyone else like him? Other psychiatrists would argue that technically everyone was an individual, and while traits may be shared, they weren't in repetitive combination.

Chilton disagreed with that. Some people were more special than others -- neurologically speaking.

His gaze didn't shift, when Revan's own leapt to the waiter. He recognized the relief of a distraction, understood that he was making his company discomforted, but that alone did not persuade Chilton to mask his baser instincts. He was naturally inclined to analyze; that alone wasn't the crime. What Chilton liked to do with his analysis, well, that was often a moral dilemma.

Or would be considered such, to a man of moral integrity.

"I'm Registered," he admitted with a small smile, one almost sheepish. "But that doesn't mean I lack reserves about our situation. Bit of a rock and a hard place, isn't it? In terms of benefit against cost."

Phrasing it so plainly, as if this was a motion of honesty he carried.

"Needless to say, I wouldn't be surprised, if a nefarious plot were to be revealed. Not all cold wars turn hot -- but some do. And if we're, as I understand it, to be the new proxies by warfare..." Chilton shrugged, finding the conversation appropriate, but feigning disinterest.