Dr. Frederick Chilton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slightlyoffchilt) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-07-20 03:41 pm
slightlyoffchilt) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-07-20 03:41 pm
Entry tags:
what have you got to lose --
WHO: Chilton and OPEN!
WHERE: All Around Heropa.
WHEN: July 8th to July 30th -- just indicate what day in the header please!
WHAT: This thus includes: psychiatric sessions, dinner reservations, coffee gallivanting, whimsical meetings of any any sort.
WARNINGS: Will update if necessary.
The sweltered gasps of summer whispered heavily onto his cotton button-ups and tailored blazers. Inspiring as the warmth and light might be (what better way to flesh out the contours of darkness?), Chilton struggled with his composure in the heat. And the heat flickered in more than mere temperatured conception; there was the metaphorical heat of sparring individuals, his own psychiatrist's history of violence and Borderline Personality Disorder, the cannibalistic ghouls of his past (and future) swaying back into his (endangered?) life. The stress was remarkable, plastering itself in the crooks of his neck, in the curve of his spine. There were fleeting fantasies, when he wondered if Christine had the right idea: escape Heropa for something more remote, something more brisk. But of course, that proposition was contrary to everything he had worked for -- Frederick Chilton was now an Attending Psychiatrist at his hospital, with a fascinating flow of imPort minds to analyze. This was a system he had wanted, the structure he craved. The brief hiatus from work he had taken lasted only three days, and even that was wholly in response to Karla Sofen's physical aggression (and consequential revelation). A minor setback. But with newer patients like Billy Kaplan (General Anxiety), Tommy Shepard (Anti-Social Personality Disorder), Erwin and Levi (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), and now Godot (... in which the jury's still out), there was a cemented allure to remaining within Heropa's embrace. Not to mention his longer-standing patients, the individuals who suffered the verge of identity crises (his favorite crisis), like Doctor Connors and Kanaya. Not to mention his project with Danger, a situation that sparked new height of unethical relations. And certainly, his promised patients, the ones he was only starting to sink his fingers into their synapses...
There was no true impulse to abandon any of that. He savored every atom of that foundation.
The sun implored blistering antics against his back, and he weathered the heat graciously.
WHERE: All Around Heropa.
WHEN: July 8th to July 30th -- just indicate what day in the header please!
WHAT: This thus includes: psychiatric sessions, dinner reservations, coffee gallivanting, whimsical meetings of any any sort.
WARNINGS: Will update if necessary.
The sweltered gasps of summer whispered heavily onto his cotton button-ups and tailored blazers. Inspiring as the warmth and light might be (what better way to flesh out the contours of darkness?), Chilton struggled with his composure in the heat. And the heat flickered in more than mere temperatured conception; there was the metaphorical heat of sparring individuals, his own psychiatrist's history of violence and Borderline Personality Disorder, the cannibalistic ghouls of his past (and future) swaying back into his (endangered?) life. The stress was remarkable, plastering itself in the crooks of his neck, in the curve of his spine. There were fleeting fantasies, when he wondered if Christine had the right idea: escape Heropa for something more remote, something more brisk. But of course, that proposition was contrary to everything he had worked for -- Frederick Chilton was now an Attending Psychiatrist at his hospital, with a fascinating flow of imPort minds to analyze. This was a system he had wanted, the structure he craved. The brief hiatus from work he had taken lasted only three days, and even that was wholly in response to Karla Sofen's physical aggression (and consequential revelation). A minor setback. But with newer patients like Billy Kaplan (General Anxiety), Tommy Shepard (Anti-Social Personality Disorder), Erwin and Levi (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), and now Godot (... in which the jury's still out), there was a cemented allure to remaining within Heropa's embrace. Not to mention his longer-standing patients, the individuals who suffered the verge of identity crises (his favorite crisis), like Doctor Connors and Kanaya. Not to mention his project with Danger, a situation that sparked new height of unethical relations. And certainly, his promised patients, the ones he was only starting to sink his fingers into their synapses...
There was no true impulse to abandon any of that. He savored every atom of that foundation.
The sun implored blistering antics against his back, and he weathered the heat graciously.
no subject
His own space was always the first priority. More room, more freedom, the more he could entertain guests. It was so much harder to throw a proper dinner party with people conquering the kitchen for their own inferior little projects.
"Accommodation isn't always everything. Some people don't mind sharing, they can even thrive in that kind of environment," Though he struggled to imagine Chilton being the ideal person to share anything with. Especially accommodation.
But at least he wasn't going to need to look too in depth to find where Chilton lived. It couldn't be too hard regardless, he was hardly a master secret keeper. Which always seemed to work in Hannibal's favour.
"It had been mentioned when we last spoke and I wish him all the best with the move. Will never was the kind of man who enjoyed being in the more populated of areas," he liked to be isolated away from everyone, surrounded by an unusual herd of dogs. Most of which were probably lured off the streets or stolen. "Fortunately travel doesn't seem to be too complicated, makes it easier to stay in touch."
He'd just found Will again, trusting and friendly once more, he wasn't about to lose track of that. Though just what he intended to do, he hadn't decided yet. So much more potential now, it was like a free redo on everything.
"How do you find Heropa? I can't say I've been here long enough to form an opinion but I can't say I've found many problems so far," He's not willing to simply let himself get distracted onto the topic on Will, that was a more personal matter he liked to keep to himself. Edging the conversation back onto Chilton seemed like the better idea, putting him under the spot light wrangled out such interesting reactions. The best way to learn was to apply the needed pressure and watch the results.
sorry for the delay!
Chilton furtively glanced at the other doctor, wondering if he had dared too much honestly with so few words just now. While on the humane level, his city was certainly lacking (extraordinary as it was on a level different from Heropa's extraordinary circumstance, one that focused on bizarre minds rather than bizarre events). But that level was -- had been quite distant for Chilton himself; until had Gideon misbehaved, until Hannibal himself had had those few precious details of his persona revealed. Heropa was calmer for Frederick Chilton.
And Heropa offered more immediate power. Not just literally, either, though every imPort was allegedly endowed with some unique supernatural capability, but also in the traditional sense. Chilton was fine working with institutionalized power for the sake of his own, and he found his needs well met. Shifting slightly in his seat, the former Chief of Staff swallowed nearly audibly. He found the rescue of wine well-timed (and rare was it, that he would commend a waiter). Distractedly, he poked his tongue at the rim of his wineglass, his motion too heavy to be an artful scenting of the drink.
"There is the matter of extraordinary abilities," he said, abruptly. Chilton reasoned that he had already committed to too much, with his casual honestly. If Hannibal had anticipated Chilton's nerves getting the best of him, he was certainly correct in that assumption. Chilton leaned forward, daring only with his audacity, and managed the smallest of smirks.
"What is your ability, Hannibal?"
Unconsciously, Chilton rubbed two fingertips against his thumb, with the hand that rested on the table to anchor him closer. It was an unplanned hint of one of his own capabilities born specifically to Heropa: sedative fingertips.
He had already wondered how Hannibal would look, under that circumstance.