maskormenacelogs | what have you got to lose --

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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.

Threaded | Flat

The interior mimicked as much as his favored décor as fiscally possible: gold and black swathed corners and nooks as accent hues, palatable to the cream of his office walls and the rich brown of his wooden desk and hardwood floor. Psychiatric texts line the bookshelves behind his desk, and flickers of art deco lighting sear with fluorescent bulbs – though that does little to chase away the shadows of evening. Aside from his leathered chair, there is an option for a length sedan or a harder, strategically uncomfortable oaken chair for anyone’s seating needs. Chilton maintains the usual business hours of nine to six, but he is more than willing to make exceptions for exceptional individuals. Drop by for a session, a meeting, or even a confrontation.

If you happen to swan by after midmonth, you might take notice of redecorating. What was once Hans’s room is now a work in progress, and one abducted by Chilton himself. As he has proclaimed himself the head of this project, there will be little persuading him from his lounge-creating goals; after all, this is his design.

Edited 2014-07-20 22:44 (UTC)

Chilton doesn’t like dog parks. Chilton doesn’t like dogs, or parks, and the combination of the two is offensive. This is simply a shortcut to the dining experience L'Astrance, and it happens to be lunchtime.

The fancy Gallic cuisine restaurant that serves an excellent beet-oriented salad. White table linens, high-rising windows, and a color palette that favor light cerulean -- naturally Chilton would favor this eatery. If you ever have a social appointment with him, this is bound to be the setting.

Edited 2014-07-20 22:47 (UTC)

Perturbed by his lack of social mobility, Chilton had decided to rent a personal yacht on the weekends. He is therefore the temporary captain of a Westerly Nomad 22-foot sailing yacht (in light cerulean blue) temporarily christened The Freudian Ship. If you insult the yacht’s name, Chilton will look down his aviator-clad nose and declare you banned -- in other words, unshippable.

Threaded | Flat

CHILTON’S OFFICE, SUITE 106

CHILTON’S HOUSE, UNIT 009

HEROPA DOG PARK

L’ASTRANCE