what have you got to lose --

[slightlyoffchilt]

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.

Comments

[darwinatrix]

No, and no. The men of Briggs know better than that.

Whether it's effected me personally is irrelevant. Any soldier under my command who did that would be courtmartialed.

[slightlyoffchilt]

I see.

[Chilton leaned back in his chair, one brow raised. It was a typical look he wore, as a psychiatrist.]

Major General, what about your personal relationships? Outside of your career?

[darwinatrix]

Few and far between. My station doesn't leave much room for that, and I'm not interested.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Have you ever be interested? Even before embarking on your career?

[Which, he could reason, might have began quite early in her lifespan.]

[darwinatrix]

Never. It's a civilian pursuit.

[slightlyoffchilt]

All right -- then. [Chilton cleared his throat, examining his notes.] Do you ever feel anxious? About your future, or your missions? What people might think of you?

[darwinatrix]

People think of me what they will; I have no intentions of living by how others perceive me.

...there is one particular operation coming up which is the riskiest I have ever set my men to. They are prepared and equipped for it, but there always remains a possibility that there will be factors we haven't been able to consider.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[He nodded, in response to this, latching on. A small vulnerability in her otherwise pristine armor? Possible. But displaying a triad of responsibility/empathy/guilt for a select group of whom she was in fact in charge of would not be considered a disappointing quality among higher ups. Chilton, while lacking all the above, was well aware of that much.]

I hear time stops, for our relative timelines, when we come here. It's true that the one instance where I returned home, I picked up the exact moment of my prior exit. [A beat.] Assuming that is a constant, they will not have to perform that risky task without your presence in your own world again.

But I would indeed consider that anxiety a normal, situational one. Healthy, even.

[darwinatrix]

Of course it is. There's a difference between confidence and arrogance. Any commander who isn't an idiot recognizes that there will be unknown circumstances beyond his control.

I've heard that as well. Even if it weren't the case; they've been trained superbly. The men of Briggs fight as one will whether their general is with them or no. And Major Miles, my adjutant, is a capable commander in my stead.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Chilton pulled his lower lip in, curbing it under his upper, and glanced down at his notes. There was nothing outright unsavory about the Major General, nothing to raise an eyebrow or two. Granted, this was but the preliminary meeting -- a more thorough analysis would require at least a couple of sessions if her superiors were interested in a therapeutic evaluation.

Armstrong had upped the circumstance, going about this on her own. By her own initiative.]

I find your social elements satisfactory. You're competent, and self-aware -- qualities desired for leadership, of course. [He met her eye contact again.] And from what we've discussed, you recognize the value of circumstantial anxiety.

[Which meant she wasn't psychopathic.]

As far as your preliminary evaluation goes, Major General, I daresay anyone would be pleased to accept your passing grade.

[darwinatrix]

Of course. I could have told you that, Doctor.

I'm honored to receive your approval. [She sounds just a little bit sarcastic.] Are we done here or did you want more?

[slightlyoffchilt]

If you're willing to give me more -- [He allowed the statement to dwindle off, almost suggestively, as he ticked his head to the side.] About your childhood. For the fuller, fleshier thrust of your psyche, I mean, there appears to be nothing clinically disorganized about you, from a neurotypical standpoint. But nurture plays just as big a role as nature.

[darwinatrix]

It's not very important. My time at Briggs shaped me far more than whatever that doddering old fool of a father could have done.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Her reluctance to expound on her childhood invoked a raised eyebrow -- when that boundary was established, he practically sniffed the air for blood.]

Very well.

[He spoke it like a drawl, snaking around his tongue.]

I think this is sufficient evidence, as it stands. Thank you for your time, Major General.

[Because on his own time, he decided, he would pursue the details of that boundary she had just established. When they were both off the record.]

[darwinatrix]

All right then.

[She stands up smartly, every action crisp and calculated. After a moment's thought, she extends a hand. This is what civilians do, of course, and she sees no reason to burn more bridges than necessary.]