FANPORT OVERFLOW LOG

[maskormods]

WHO: ImPorts!
WHERE: Heropa's Convention Centre.
WHEN: April 14-16, from 9 AM - 12 AM every day.
WHAT: Registration is in motion alongside FanPort, the most popular imPort convention around! Come on in and see imPort-led panels, the artist's alley, cosplayers, and more! If you have any questions, or wish to amend the way we have written up your characters' panels, let us know here! The original log can be found HERE.
WARNINGS: None anticipated; please let us know if this should be changed.

Comments

[slightlyoffchilt]

What are you interested in, then?

[instars]

In general, or specifically to my mental health?

Because right now I'm interested in why Christian Louboutin isn't a designer in this world.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Often I find that the general pertains to the mental health. [Spoken with only a hint of sarcasm.] Perhaps he has yet to be discovered, or died before he could manifest what you knew him to be. Or simply does not exist.

[instars]

None of those are particularly desirable.

[How annoying.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

Life is a tragedy waiting to unfold. I'm afraid that you'll have to find another topic to occupy yourself, for lack of a specific designer.

I would consider you resourceful. You'll think of something.

[instars]

[She looks at him a long time.]

Yes.

[She smiles.

She smiles, and releases pheromone; it smells like nothing, it's not something humans detect through scent, really. Enough to get him hot and heavy under the collar. People around will get that way too, but not at her, because no one else is looking at her.]

I will think of something.

But you have to have a better hobby than this.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[He swallows, hard, as his pulse picks up speed. A couple deep breaths before he speaks -- it's the heat of the room, he tells himself it's overwhelming. Body heat and movement, that's what has got him flustered.]

Analysis isn't as much a hobby as a career move. It's like breathing to me.

[Chilton shifts between his two feet. He notices that his heart speed isn't easy, he feels the tension building within him.

Distractedly he asks:]

Why, what would you have in mind?

[instars]

Well, I don't know. What do you like to spend your time doing?

I know it's not fashion, but do you like cars? Books? Movies? Knitting?

[She moves in a little, tilting forward just a smidge.]

Are you all right, Doctor Chilton?

[slightlyoffchilt]

[I know it's not fashion. He nearly took offense at that -- without the circumstance of his adrenaline rush and urge, the doctor would have. Instead, he furrowed his brow and pinched at the bridge of his nose.]

I'm not. Feeling well, no, all the sudden... Is it hot in here? I need...

[He craved, but refused to recognize it.]

[instars]

[She takes his arm, then, very gently.]

Let's find a place for you to sit.

[She touches him carefully, so that her body brushes against his side. It's not obvious. It's very well done, like an accident, or like support.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[He took a sharp breath when she touched him -- it was just a gossamer caress, barely anything more. Swallowing more ferociously now, Chilton looked down at her proximity and then up again at her face. He looked to his left, as if looking for any onlookers.]

Just -- briefly, perhaps.

[Submitting to her guidance.]

[instars]

[Here, a bench.]

Perhaps your age is catching up to you.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Perhaps. Or the kidney I lost along the way.

[Or the damage to his intestines, or his blinded eye beneath that colored contact he wore.]

We all live such fascinating lives.

[instars]

Did you get sick?

[Which is totally a better response to what she's really thinking, which is, did someone eat it.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

No, actually. [He grimaced, clearly disliking this part of the story. But it wasn't as if Frederick Chilton's sordid past was a secret, and Saya could easily investigate the details if she so chose to do so. Better that he frame it to his liking now.]

It was taken from me. Forcibly. By a mass murderer turned serial killer who was once my patient.

[instars]

[She stares at him a while. Quiet. Like she's trying to dissect this.]

How unfortunate.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Quite unfortunate. I never again could digest the same.

[An American tragedy.]

But you know, I've survived decently enough. Call it a latent talent.

[instars]

Like cockroaches.

[Well, no one ever said she had tact.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Chilton gave her a look.]

Do you see me as a cockroach?

[instars]

Does it matter?

[Saya, ever-perceptive of when people get offended, is kind of curious about this.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

It is a deeply unflattering comparison, to say the least.

[Chilton offered a raised eyebrow -- but given Saya's follow-up question, he doubted he ought to press offense. It seemed like a useless end.]

[instars]

Why?

Cockroaches are survivors. They exist on almost every continent. They're doing more than well, from an evolutionary standpoint. When humans die off, they'll still be around.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Quite the classically biological interpretation. Not really my field, mind.

[And that was the crux: Chilton cared about what people thought of him. At least... Certain people.]

What do you see yourself as?

[instars]

Why should I see myself as anything other than me?

[And a pause.]

Although if I do, why would I say to you? I saw what you did to Walter White.

[slightlyoffchilt]

You saw what I observed about Walter White, you mean. My analysis.

[To his credit, Chilton didn't break composure.]

Tragic thing as it was.