maskormenacelogs | [CLOSED] time-wasting's my crime and history must have a use

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[CLOSED] time-wasting's my crime and history must have a use

WHO: Yuri Petrov + select participants
WHERE: The various Porter cities
WHEN: August 24th, August 27th, August 28th
WHAT: A catch-all for Yuri's birthday and the weekend following
WARNINGS: None yet, will update as necessary
NOTES: Because the time frame in question is rather small, I've made this a closed log to keep both realistic and manageable the number of interactions involved. That said, if you're interested in having your character run into Yuri on any one of the above dates (his birthday and the weekend following) you're welcome to drop me a PP at

quietlikeafire or PM this journal and I'll see what we can work out!

▮FELIX: ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴅᴇssᴇʀᴛs

[At precisely noon, dressed in nearly all white from head to toe, Yuri arrives in downtown Nonah at his destination: an upscale revolving restaurant called Over The Moon.

He doesn't wait for his company outside in the sweltering North Carolina heat and bright afternoon sun, among the throngs of people coming from and going to work or wherever else it is their busy schedules should take them. Along with the restaurant's address, he'd sent Felix instructions to find him inside, using the reservation for two under the name Petrov.

At their table, a white-clothed affair without a single wrinkle, Yuri watches the city's skyline as it changes slowly before his eyes. He'd promised an unparalleled view, and he'd delivered. In fact, so far is the restaurant removed from the noise of human and motorized traffic below, he almost feels a world away from the troubles of being an imPort. Almost, but for the power nullifying bracelet upon his wrist that serves as a reminder. Even while concealed by a neatly buttoned cuff, Yuri can't forget...

He may no longer be in a cell, but he's every bit still a prisoner.

Of course, what he's doing here is precisely the reason why. Old habits die hard, and his haven't died at all. For all his talk of reform, Yuri simply can't help being curious about the new faces to have introduced themselves. And what better way to get to know them—and their secrets—than by spending a little time together?]

▮TOBIAS: sᴇᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ

[By the time the sun has set, Yuri has already had quite a day. The cool and salty breeze washing in off the sea is a welcome change from the sweltering stone oceans he'd traversed earlier, and from the crowded confines of the bar he'd found himself in towards the start of his evening. Kotetsu Kaburagi's invitation had come as a surprise, especially after their last disagreement in a similar establishment, but things had gone...

Well, they hadn't gone poorly, and that was the problem, wasn't it? After having had one too many drinks, Yuri's head felt light, his senses dulled and his emotions—those, like the racing of his thoughts, were adversely heightened. So it is with some surprise, and considerable regret, that he greets Toby where they agreed to meet, beneath a three-quarter moon that hangs in an unobstructed black sky. Alone.]

Tobias.

[While he may appear as collected as usual, dressed in pristine white, his hair drawn back into a loosely tied ponytail, he doesn't feel that way at all, and certainly feels less so when he meets the vampire's gaze. Dorian's beloved. And a man who has been far too kind to him to receive any of his bitterness for that truth.]

I'm terribly sorry. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long?

▮CHILTON: ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴊᴀᴢᴢ

[De Chima was perhaps the imPort city least frequented by Yuri, but he had in the past become rather familiar with its semi-private and artsy subculture. Poetry corners, themed cafes, and in the case of this evening's destination, a classy jazz circuit along which a very particular club sat nestled between two re-purposed buildings: an old bar and an even older hotel.

Of course, I Knew You Were Treble had an outstanding reputation despite its location, even if its dark-tinted windows revealed nothing to passersby of the the club's plum velveteen curtains, broad stage, and dusky neon lighting that enveloped its guests as they sat in vintage chairs around vintage tables to watch local musicians perform. From without, the red-brick and black-topped building was quite unremarkable, only the flashing sign above its double doors giving any kind of indication what sort of entertainment lurked within.

But Yuri rather liked that about the establishment, much as he liked that for all its popularity, a private conversation wasn't a difficult thing to have there. It was the perfect place to invite Frederick Chilton whom he still knew too little about, and as he took his seat at a small round table, dressed well but not too well, he awaited his guest's arrival.

With refined music and a little reconnaissance, there could be no better way to conclude such a busy week than this, could there?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It only takes stepping one foot outside in the heat for Felix to realize that he doesn't like North Carolina at all. And not just because he has a negative association with its namesake. In a three piece suit of black pinstripes, he finds the oppressive humidity intolerable. But he doesn't loosen his tie or open his collar—that would ruin the image he's going for here.

He finds the restaurant easily enough, the name bringing a smile—only faintly sarcastic—to his lips when he sees it. How appropriate. It's almost like the guy knows him. Inside, he gives Yuri's name, then follows the host back to the table, hands tucked casually in his pockets.

Old habits die hard for Felix, too. There's a knife tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket just in case he needs to use it. He isn't expecting a battle to break out in the middle of the restaurant, but he's learned to consider the possibility of anything happening. And a knife is easier to conceal than a gun. ]

Yuri, yeah? [ He smiles as he approaches the table, the expression friendly without being fake. ] Nice to meet you in person. [ Because he has manners, whatever else he is, he offers his hand in greeting. ] I'm Felix.

[With a practiced grace, Yuri rises from his chair to greet Felix. He takes the hand offered him in a firm grip and returns the smile he's been given, but it is (noticeably, to a keen eye) a little more politician than it is genuinely friendly.]

Felix, the pleasure is all mine.

[Interestingly, the other man's choice of apparel is a stark contrast to Yuri's own. It demonstrates a fine sense of taste, something that haircut is lacking...though, for a man who wears his own long and often with a ribbon, Yuri's really not one to judge.]

This isn't at all how I expected I would spend my afternoon, but what is it they say about spontaneity? [He knows damn well what they say and he disapproves. Careful planning and meticulousness were preferred to living by the seat of his pants. Particularly where it involved strangers.] Please, have a seat.

[ It's a good handshake. It's the kind of handshake that speaks of confidence in oneself and one's environment. And Yuri's smile is one that Felix has seen often enough before. Someone looking to make genuine connections with people, it might be off-putting, but connections in Felix's line of work are dangerous. That's a lesson he's had to learn the hard way, but once learned isn't a mistake he'll make again.

He releases Yuri's hand after the shake concludes, not the sort to let personal contact linger unless he's trying to make the other party uncomfortable. Right now, he's not. ]

Of course. [ Moving to his side of the table, he takes a seat without further ado. Spontaneity is what Felix lives by, though he once had a partner who took meticulous planning to a whole new level. ] Have you dined here often? Because if you have, I might have to ask for a recommendation or two.

[Following suit, Yuri lowers himself back into his seat and invites his guest to take up the menu with a nod of his head.]

I've dined here in the past, but not with any sort of regularity. Expensive cuisine isn't always what's best for one's health.

[And, contrary to popular belief (this due to his numerous bad habits), Yuri was very particular about his diet. Albeit cleverly masked with cosmetics and exquisite tailoring, he was a man whose scarred exterior belied a most scrupulous regimen of personal care, one that seemed only to lack adequate time for sleep.]

Their tarragon chicken salad is exceptional, but if you're looking for something richer, I would recommend the rack of lamb and basil-mozzarella stuffed roasted peppers. With wine, of course. Though I'll be having tea myself.

[ It's true. Expensive food is often rich and fatty and full of too many calories. But Felix doesn't mind. His line of work, his real line of work, keeps him active enough to burn most of it off and well, he already died. He doesn't care if it's bad for him or not. ]

Not a big drinker? [ He shrugs as he says it. ] Probably for the best. Sobriety keeps you sharp.

[ Not that he always has listened to such sage advice. But sometimes, a man needs to not have to deal with stuff for a while. ]

I'm going to take your recommendation. Tarragon chicken salad sounds delightful.

Am I so transparent?

[While he's never gone to great lengths to hide his distaste for alcohol, Yuri hasn't unnecessarily broadcast the fact, either. Most people would, upon first meeting him, presume he simply wasn't one to drink so early in the day, or that perhaps he merely preferred tea. It was interesting to him that Felix should presume different. Not bad, but interesting. It meant that the other man was observant and it made Yuri wonder what else he might have noticed, if anything at all.]

I've never been very fond of alcohol, so it should come as no surprise that I wouldn't protest sober company. Besides, sharp minds make much better conversationalists, wouldn't you agree?

[He signals their waiter with a glance and a nod and, when the man comes over not long after, relays that they'll be having the same salad. He chooses earl grey tea for himself, but not yet knowing what Felix wishes to drink, leaves it up to him to tell the waiter what he would like.]

[ While Felix is observant—he has to be in his line of work—this is one that he gets by accident. It doesn't occur to him that the time of day might matter to Yuri where drinking is concerned. And since someone else's money is paying for this, it's free alcohol. Who wouldn't prefer that to tea or something equally boring? Surely only someone that doesn't like to drink booze would say no.

He isn't judging. This isn't the first person he's eaten with who prefers not to indulge in intoxicating beverages.

The waiter comes over before he can respond. He can't turn down free wine, so when Yuri pauses to let him order his drink, he requests the most expensive Chardonnay on the menu. One glass won't dull his wits at all. After the man's gone, he picks up as if they'd never been interrupted. ]

Sorry. [ He smiles a lopsided smile. ] Can't pass up a good glass of wine. Won't dull my edge though, don't worry. [ The faint hint of amusement in his voice fades. ] An old business associate of mine never drank either. Preferred water no matter where we ate. But that's cool, yeah? Variety's the spice of life.

[Yuri's well aware of the price tag attached to Felix's choice, but doesn't comment. He'd prefer not to draw attention to the fact that he intends to pay for the entirety of their lunch himself; allowing some poor unsuspecting sap to be saddled with their bill just isn't something he can do.]

No need to apologize. You know what you like, that's a quality that I can appreciate.

[He smiles back, the expression much more tame, but when Felix mentions his associate, it's replaced with open interest.]

If you don't mind my asking, what is it you do for a living? Back home and I suppose here, too.

[Toby had figured that Yuri would be outfitted in a suit but felt that might be a little too fancy for his own tastes. So he'd instead gone with a snug-fit stretch cotton V-neck shirt printed with newspaper clippings under an unbuttoned maroon suit jacket with three quarter sleeves, slim-fitting dark blue stylistically distressed denim trousers, and a decent pair of sandals because he doesn't want to shake sand out of any of his fancy shoes.]

No worries. [He hasn't been waiting long enough to think Yuri had stood him up.] Besides, I imagine you might've contacted me if anything urgent were keeping you.

[At first glance, Yuri seems like usual if a bit tired. But after a closer study, it seems Yuri's done a little more partying than he's used to. He does seem slightly pissed.]

Shall we walk along the promenade?

[Yuri's answer comes in the form of a nod and, taking the lead, footprints left in the sand for Toby to follow or walk alongside of.]

If there had been anything urgent keeping me, I would have called. As it was, I'm afraid I simply lost track of the time.

[Which wasn't at all like him, at least insofar as what others had come to expect, but Yuri was always prepared to make certain sacrifices for certain gains. It just so happened that today, those sacrifices were...a little out of the ordinary.]

It's been...quite a day. But you're looking well.

[Better than Yuri felt, at least, but that wasn't something the sobering ocean breeze couldn't fix.]

[Toby takes a place at Yuri's side, falling into step with the taller man.]

Why, thank you. Quite a day for the birthday boy, was it? How so? Never really took you for the partying sort...

[Although it's somewhat humid, the breeze makes it less cloying, heavy, and oppressive. It's a relatively comfortable evening under the beautiful third quarter moon.]

That's because I'm not, Mr Matthews.

[The partying sort, that was. But, if his acute sense of hearing was any indication, he was as much now as he ever was a man who paid attention to details. Even with a bit of liquor in his system.]

I received a most unexpected invitation from an...old associate. Someone from home. I ought to have declined the offer, but no harm came of it. At least, no harm besides what's befallen our brain cells and livers.

[Though of course he didn't drink near enough for that to be a genuine concern.]

In any case...I suppose there are a number of reasons I thought to spend this birthday a little differently than those I've spent in the past. Chief among them being the fact I've been encouraged to socialize more with my release from prison. But I'm sure you're familiar with such expectations.

[It was more of a joke spoken under his breath, but Toby can't help his amusement at Yuri's clarification. Toby's lips tug into a soft smile, nodding in understanding as Yuri continues.]

Yes, I am. Something about keeping your head low and staying out of trouble... and some other things as well. [Like making an actual attempt at changing one's life, for example, which takes more effort than merely ducking one's head.

A pause, a breath, and then hesitation as Toby thinks.]

Mind my asking about your 'old associate', or would you rather not talk about them?

[Yuri did say he should've declined the offer, but clearly he didn't. It's not that Toby wants to pry, but he's somewhat curious. And there's this air of mystery about Yuri at times—that's probably something Dorian had been attracted to as well...]

Because if not, we could always talk about expectations. And change.

[He's just trying to offer Yuri an out if he doesn't want to talk about any of those things in particular.]

[Ordinarily, Yuri's reply to Tobias' question would come seamlessly, as though he'd already prepared his answer, but not tonight. Instead, as he opens his mouth to answer, he gives pause, considering briefly if his saying anything would be saying too much regarding Kotetsu. Could anything he had said so far connect the man to Wild Tiger? Did Toby already know the two were one and the same? And why, after all the Heroes have done, does he even care to still protect their secret identities?

So many questions...]

I don't mind. [It should be fine, after all. What he'd said so far isn't indicative of anything more than the fact they knew one another, and there's no reason to suspect anything more based on that. Except that Yuri isn't a social man by any means, and he spent time with very few people. Better to clarify then...] We were never close, Kotetsu and I. [Wait, why clarify? Toby hasn't even inquired about that, only the man's name!] What I mean to say is that I shouldn't have accepted his offer for that reason. It isn't exactly wise to drink in the company of virtual strangers, though I suppose the nature of celebrating isn't at all about behaving wisely.

[This is a mess. So he just...stops talking for a few moments. A few steps. Collecting himself as surely as he runs one hand through his hair and pushes it back from his face. Anything to invite the scant breeze, to sober him quicker.]

I haven't anything good to say about expectations or change, in any case. Do you? Perhaps your experiences have been different than my own. Less...frustrating?

[Unfamiliar with anyone from Yuri's world other than Yuri himself, it's interesting to get a name. Not that Toby would know what to do with that information since he's not really out for anyone. But it seemingly confirms that Yuri is much more lonely than he lets on. That's something Toby can relate to, but also all the more reason he's so possessive and protective of Dorian.

The silence is welcome, almost comfortable, before Yuri asks his next question. Toby considers, then shakes his head.]

I don't know about less frustrating. It's hard to say.

[People can't change their natures, or who they are at their core. They adapt and blend in, putting on masks to get by and avoid trouble.]

Things seem to work out on a superficial level, and I guess sometimes that's enough.

[But is it really enough?]

Is it?

[Clearly they're in disagreement.]

A man who settles for one thing will find himself settling in other areas of his life, and before he knows it, he will have nothing left but a hand-me-down existence. Is that truly what you desire, Tobias? To carve your happiness out of the scraps others have cast away? How fragile that seems to me, how transient.

[The less long-winded version of that translating to: it's never enough. Or it shouldn't be.]

I suppose it's easier to reach for low hanging fruit, though. And people do seem to love what is easy...whether or not it's any good for them.

[Toby frowns before opening his mouth to say something, and then promptly snapping it shut as he thinks some more.

With a sigh,]

It's been so long since I've done anything other than piece a life together out of scraps and leftovers. Really, that's what the whole world is like to me: bits and pieces of people and things that can't and never will last forever. One might even liken me to a leftover of past relationships and experiences, someone discarded and abandoned regardless of anyone's choice or desire in the matter.

[He thinks about those centuries ago, when his father left and never came back. Then, he thinks back to when Ivor changed him, only to leave him after the following night. Again and again, people have come and gone, sometimes by choice while others withered or rotted away in sickness or old age.]

Still, there is something, someone who had never left me. Someone whose life with me isn't quite so fleeting. And for the sake of a happily ever after with that someone, I'm willing to at least attempt a change, to play along and maintain this charade. As I've said, it seems to work on a superficial level. So if that's what it is, a hand-me-down existence of hanging on to low-hanging fruit, then so be it. He loved me back into existence, and so I'll continue that existence, trying to stay out of trouble so I could spend more time being happy instead.

Dorian.

[The name isn't spoken in question, but with hard certainty. The bond between the two immortal men was one Yuri found as fascinating as it was afflicting, the latter because it was so much easier to be kindly toward one half of the pair than the other.

He mirrors Tobias' sigh.]

I'm sorry if I offended. I hadn't been referring to him.

[Or had he been? Even Yuri isn't sure, though he supposes what he'd said could easily be misconstrued as such, and he did have rather a habit of ridiculing most anything Dorian Gray did.]

You were kind enough to meet me out here and I've insulted you. Your way of life. Your...

[He gestures, not wanting to say lover, and then scrubs the heel of his palm over his face tiredly.]

It's— [There's the briefest, most abrupt hesitation here.] —fine, really. I'm not offended.

[Not seriously, anyway.]

Besides, I don't think it's something many people understand, living for lifetimes or ages. More often than not, he makes it sound like the greatest thing in the world—and perhaps it is, to him. Though it's all relative, subjective...

[At a glance, one could hardly tell how long Dorian or Toby have lived, how much life experience either of them has, or any greater or far-reaching effects their experiences have had on their ways of life. Dorian can see beauty in everything, and Toby... always sees death and decay and loss. It's always been a struggle not to focus on those things.

He lets his train of thought trail off for a bit before seemingly interrupting it with a shake of his head. Time and again, others have dismissed Toby's perspective and philosophy completely, and Toby would much rather shut himself down preemptively than afford Yuri a chance to do so.]

Actually, forget about all that. It's not so important as dealing with here and now.

[Only... the past isn't so far from either Toby or Yuri, and the world will never forgive or forget the monsters that they are.]

[Send him a picture in context of dress code, and Will Graham is liable to take it quite literally. So literally he gets in touch with a certain friend not long after he gets the necessary details and talks to April. From there it's a matter of time and place. From there it's a matter of Will waiting, making the trip, and Yuri finding himself faced with a large black dog. Outside Yuri's work, out of sight, as it's easier to get away with having a backpack and not catching eyes, being considered odd. All it is is a change of clothes; dogs don't wear clothes, and Will doesn't care to come around naked and in need of Yuri's when this is an option.

Well. A change of clothes, a collar, and a leash. He expects plenty of people could read this Certain Ways. Wrong Ways. So it's a good fucking thing those people aren't around and won't have the knowledge necessary to come to those Wrong Conclusions. Besides, once he's properly tended to, the look he gives the judge at the end of said leash is nowhere near subservient or naughty. Acceptance, of course, but something else. Something not quite right. A blink and it's missed flash of palpable, ready-to-turn-brutal tenacity, there and gone in an instant.

He doesn't have an issue with Yuri taking the lead, so to speak, because Yuri knows the elegant dog walking next to him has sharp teeth he can and will sink into flesh and bone if given reason.]

[No wrong conclusions here and no reason to bite. And there isn't a need to take the lead, either.

Yuri recognizes Will on sight and is happy to let him in the back door of his shop where it isn't like there are any customers present to complain. He recognizes Will by the look in the dog's eyes. One not only of intelligence, because animals are by no means lacking in that, but also of a familiar sort of ferocity combined with friendliness. The sort that, Yuri thinks with amusement, is actually quite suited to a canine—and to Will.

Yuri proceeds to the fitting room and, pushing open the door, gives Will the only permission he needs to enter and go about his business. He'll wait outside, of course. On the off chance he was somehow mistaken.]

[He comes in without hesitation, head held high but not arrogantly high. Will puts no effort into keeping his steps light and silent; nails hit the floor like he's any other dog. Any other dog capable of either slobbery licks or painful bites.

Click click click, he's quick to pad right into the fitting room like he owns the damn place. Or like he's just ready to shed this skin for something else. Yuri's leg is tail-thwapped in the process. Is it an accident? Is it purposeful? Is it the result of needing to spend more time in this particular dog form? The world may never know.

He wasn't mistaken, but it's great he waits. Not that Will would expect him to stand around weirdly or anything, but he spends a moment scratching an ear before he goes about covering himself in threadbare plaid and jeans. It's very undignified, so best done alone. When he comes out, he's running a hand through his messier than usual hair one last time. Like maybe it'll work with one more effort.]

Hey. [He nods to Yuri, dropping the doggie backpack on the counter.] Where do we start?

[Whether by accident or calculation, the thwap of Will's tail against Yuri's leg doesn't produce anything more from the former judge than a wry smile. If nothing else, the gesture helps to assure that he is who Yuri suspects even before Will emerges to make a proper appearance.

The bag that's later dropped atop the counter is given no more than a fleeting glance before Will has Yuri's undivided attention. But at the other man's question, he purses his lips and shakes his head.]

A good question.

[Is that...is that a joke?

Why, yes it is. As Yuri looks Will over, a man clad in terrible plaid with the most unkempt hair imaginable, he looks almost like someone regretting his decision to help. Until a quiet chuckle escapes him, anyway.]

Let me see the picture again. We'll begin there, finding fabrics to match as closely as possible, and accessories too, if you wish. Then I'll need to take you in back and get your measurements. When do you need the suit for, again?

[A joke returned by Will swallowing down, quite visibly, any retort. He knows Yuri doesn't mean it rudely. And he's never been one to care much about how he's dressed. He can still give him a momentary stink-eye, however. How very dare. Will Graham has worn perfectly fine clothes before. To funerals and his own weddings. And important work events. Why would he wear them anywhere else? Ugh.]

It's... [He pats his front pockets, then his back. Pulls out his wallet and flips through it. A few pictures are involved in that flipping; April, Jeff, Abigail. Then he's tugging a crumpled print out of the one he'd digitally sent over and laying it on the counter, running his hands over it like it really matters that there's crinkles or anything. Once it's satisfactory, he points.] I kinda like the lady suit better.

[Who wouldn't!]

Need it next Saturday. Accessories'd be great, too. I want him to realize I'm taking this seriously, no half-assed measures.

[So seriously he's hanging out with a well-dressed murderer for advice. It's like a little taste of home!]

[Of course Yuri doesn't mean to be insulting. While plaid and broken-in jeans aren't exactly things he keeps stocked in his own closet because they do not suit him, Will is another story. There is a rustic sort of dignity about him, expressed most keenly perhaps not by his wardrobe, but by his intellect; it is a thing plainly visible behind his eyes and in the way he chooses to act...or not act as it were.

There isn't insult to be found in harmless teasing. Not unless someone is particularly sensitive, and that is itself an altogether different problem, and not one either man finds himself is possessed by currently.

Procuring the crinkled printout, Yuri once again examines the two different styles. He agrees in full that the woman's suit infinitely more pleasing to the eye and comfortable looking, but it is the other that Will would have him make and so it is there his focus shifts and stays.]

Saturday, hm? I'll have it for the day before, in that case. That way if there are any further alterations that need to be made there will be time enough to see to them.

[The paper is folded (much more neatly this time) and held onto as Yuri directs Will to the storefront.]

Let's find a suitable fabric. And something to liven the ensemble up with.

[Those eyes are a little duller this time around. Will follows for lack of ability to do anything else. Here, he is out of his element. This is not simply a fish out of water, he realizes, looking around the store and recognizing very little past its technical name. This is a fish out of water flopping about the middle of a desert. This is not for him. This is not his world. If the place was covered in blood or had a corpse as a new display, then it would be.

He stops. He looks around. He makes a face.]

I don't know anything about suitable fabrics. [Is that a play on words, suitable fabrics for a suit, he's assuming so. Better than cannibalism hee-hees. He'll take it even as he announces he's Jon Snow in this regard.] I don't know anything about fabrics outside of houses and boats and dog beds. This is your area, I'm [Trusting. Trusting you, he might say, if he felt he had to. He was already extending quite a deal of trust; Yuri had extended trust to Will before. They didn't need to say it when actions did already.] deferring to you entirely here.

[Well! There's no point hiding his amusement at that particular (and poorly executed) verbal evasion, so Yuri just nods and, for the sake of simply being decent, tries to keep from laughing too hard.]

Of course. [He takes Will to the counter, stepping behind it himself to procure from a low shelf a thick catalog of fabrics. He thumbs quickly through the first part of the book as if to completely disregard the selections there, and as he does so, explains his reasoning.] I would imagine you'll want to be as comfortable as possible, so a breathable fabric would be ideal, particularly as we're still suffering the effects of late summer heat. Given its trademark sheen, cashmere might provide a less boring appearance, and it would resist wrinkling rather well.

[He pushes the catalog towards Will so that he might examine the range of patterns and colors available to him.]

The heaviness of the fabric is important to consider, also. You'll want something light, possibly even in the mid-weight range. [He gestures to the top and middlemost rows.] You'll want to choose from them or you might risk sweating through your outfit.

[He wouldn't have expected anything lacking in class from Yuri Petrov, given the man's deeply established flair and style. But it was intriguing, this venue -- and Chilton aimed to glean as much as he possibly could from the choice, unable to stop from wondering about the mechanisms clicking into play. And Petrov did have mechanism, of that Chilton was convinced.]

Dressed to impress.

[Or so Chilton had hoped.

He gave a quick nod and a curt smile to the host who had guided him to Yuri's chosen table. That dusty neon lighting appeared to compliment Yuri's attire well, strangely enough -- few other patrons could make the same claim about their own clothes. Chilton doubted most would pay attention to that subjective detail, but to him it spoke of another control quality. Yuri appeared effortlessly in control of his environment, and that impression made Chilton all the more wary.]

Have you already ordered drinks? I don't mind taking the honor of first round.

[There was a lot one could discover about Yuri through close analysis. The obvious, that he had a somewhat more mature, if idiosyncratic flair about him, expressed not only in his choice of venue, but also in his choice of attire. He enjoyed distinguished matched with distinctive tastes, and seemed drawn to those who shared his penchant for strange sophistication. That he should like jazz should then come as no surprise, though it was perhaps a bizarrely soulful genre of music for a very aloof man.

But he wasn't aloof, not really. Behind a long-established mask of cool detachment was a man who felt things very, very deeply. And for all that he pretended to be untouched by certain people or occurrences in the world, the fact remained: he could not have done what he did, could not have so zealously pursued justice, if he was not in his heart a man as passionate as his flame.

Most people weren't shrewd enough to realize that, of course. He had them fooled as he'd had himself fooled for a very, very long time. Chilton, however, was no fool.]

You as well.

[He nods approvingly at the psychiatrist's choice of attire and, after Chilton has seated himself, he continues.]

Of course I waited. I didn't wish to be rude.

Such etiquette is a rarity nowadays.

[One of those indolent statements that swanned into small talk, neither committing to true criteria -- nowadays was purposefully vague, intentionally broad in its implication. But Chilton had to take such cautious measurements, even in nascent conversation; Yuri caught on quicker than most, he really did. And given his strong, personal ethical code, well, that made him something of a wildfire. Those who adhered to more conventional morality were as predicable as they tended to be controllable.

And Yuri Petrov, in contrast, had proven his unconventionality. Reveled in it. That sort of psychological fiber enticed Chilton, it was the very siren's song that disabled his ability to say no to this meeting.]

I'm in the mood for an Old Fashioned. And yourself?

[Yuri, he suspected, knew of Chilton's heed to this song.]

But before we glide too far on the surface -- [Chilton leaned forward, his smile small, almost timid.] -- I might consider that you aren't all the interested in the niceties right now, Yuri. Shall we get to the marrow, or is that too forward of me?

Perhaps you don't keep the company you should.

[Not implying that Chilton should seek his company more often, of course. Or was he?

Raina would know better than anyone. Having visited Yuri in prison where they had spoken of the psychiatrist, she was well aware of Yuri's interest in him. In fact, she'd gone so far as to caution him (or, more accurately, to threaten him) against getting involved or stirring up trouble...

...but Yuri responded to threats the same way he did to terrorists: not at all.]

I'll be having brandy, myself.

[As classy as it was uncomplicated, which was how Yuri preferred his drinks...when he drank at all.

And after relaying their order to their server, it was time to address Chilton's other question.]

You're not being any more forward than I was when I invited you to join me this evening, but you're right, I'm not at all interested in small talk. [As the other man leaned forward, Yuri smiled back, but his expression was nowhere near as timid in its appearance. He had no desire to hide anything at the moment, least of all his intentions this evening.] To be perfectly honest, Dr Chilton, I want to know more about you, and while I would ordinarily acquire that information through other channels, I thought to try a different approach this time. After all, you're a man of refined tastes like myself, and a man who holds a respectable position in our community. You are my trusted doctor and, more importantly...you're not yet someone who has crossed me. Why shouldn't we do this face-to-face?

[It was all sound reasoning.

Moreover, Chilton couldn't deny that he was somewhat flattered by the attention, the intimacy of engaging company in public. While he couldn't ignore the thistle of a threat (you're not yet someone who has crossed me), Chilton nevertheless felt the thrill of involvement and singular focus. His inclination to tread carefully with Yuri Petrov fought against the swallow of delight. He wanted to know more about him.

Chilton couldn't hide the cut of his smile behind his glass, when their drinks came. He was already hooked.]

You have something specific in mind, I'm sure.

[His immediate thoughts floated the nebulous of his book about Walter White, and the brief controversy that had inspired. He considered next his off-again-on-again friendship with Will Graham, knowing that the two were magnetized in some way. Will Graham simply had that effect.]

My work, or my personal life? Where shall we begin?

Very specific, I'm afraid.

[With an appreciative nod Yuri accepted his glass from their server and regarded its contents, his smile something caught between convinced and indolent. Chilton was a clever man, but it seemed very vain, too. In that, his attention wasn't particularly difficult to capture, a fact Yuri had been counting on...but also hadn't expected the doctor to swallow quite so quickly.

It felt a little like pandering in that way, but there was no harm in it and, honestly, Chilton's palpable excitement amused Yuri.]

The night is long and I'm certain our conversation will wander a good deal, but to start with, I think I would like to know more about your relationship with Will Graham. [As the band started into a slower piece, the singing notes played on the piano of foremost focus, Yuri tipped his glass back and stole a sip of brandy.] Raina visited me in prison, though I'm sure that comes as no surprise to you. However, what I found particularly curious about her visit was her confession that she seemed to think you were afraid Will might use me as a means of harming you.

[Yuri could be discussing something as harmless as the weather or as pleasant as the opening of a new art exhibit for how completely mild and utterly absent of hostility his voice is.]

To be precise, she had used the phrase "psychological torture." Don't you find that intriguing? I spoke to Will about it, of course. He seemed to think it was akin to grasping at straws, but I should like to think that idea came from somewhere. I don't believe in happenstance, you see.

[Chilton tilted his head only a few degrees, the movement highly self-conscious in of itself; he was measuring his own reaction, tending to the specific detail that might allude more loudly to his thoughts. He was unwilling to underestimate Yuri's perceptive powers, but Chilton knew that a stony face was as good as a confession.

Measured control at least sent the right message.]

My relationship with Will Graham. Well! He is of my world, my Baltimore. That fact alone allows for a certain... Intimacy. Between us.

[Context. It was crucial.]

Intimacy ought not be taken for granted, Yuri, so you must understand how it hurts to hear Will intentionally misleading you.

[Chilton had the proof of already being psychologically tortured by Will Graham, this was not a purely theoretical discussion. He raised one eyebrow, his lips tight, and decided not to invoke Raina's name from his own lips. Better to protect her however he could, and it might be dangerous for her name to enter conversation too often with this man.]

Do you think of him as pure?

I don't think him pure, no. But then, I don't think of anyone as pure. Man is a breeding ground for sin, Dr Chilton. He is born into it, nurtured by it, and in many cases, it will be the very thing that eventually puts him in the ground—if he should be lucky enough to make it that far.

[He takes a sip of wine and relaxes against the back of his chair, one leg crossing over the other, toe tapping idly at thin air in time with the music.]

Of course, that doesn't mean I believe that behind every lie there lurks nefarious intent. Will Graham is...

[A laundry list of things, to be honest.]

...well, he's not the worst there is, and he doesn't appear to enjoy complicating his own life, despite the knack he has for it. If he's said anything to mislead me, I can only presume that it was his intention to protect, not to harm.

[Because he knows Yuri won't kill him. Not without very, very good reasoning, at least. Knows that, too. They'd more or less negotiated the terms of their peace. Yuri recognized that Will had atoned. Once. He'd made an exception and had spared him. Once.

And so far that glue has held. Will could lie to him through his teeth, could pull out someone else's teeth if he wished, but so long as no one died, so long as that line was one he could come back from...]

I'd hoped to clear things up, in any case. Whatever quarrel Will has with someone, it is his own. I won't get involved. Just as my quarrels are my own.

[Which was a roundabout way of saying that he and Will might still share enemies, just that the things that brought them to those doorsteps would be invariably their own.]

How's your drink?

That isn't how the game is played, I'm afraid. Not with him. [He swirled his drink, looking into it -- a harrowed glance stolen in that briefly raw moment. Chilton knew the price he had paid for being Will's friend, but he knew not of the price he would be charged.] You cannot know him and remain clean of involvement.

[It wasn't just Hannibal's mechanisms. That much was clear now.]

Bittersweet. [In reference to his drink. Probably. Chilton glanced back up at Yuri, both eyebrows arisen with a skeptical air.] A taste you must be rather familiar with, Yuri, isn't that right?

[Chilton had wondered why Will didn't divulge the familial privilege he and Chilton once shared with each other. A privilege that Chilton had now put a referendum on, yes, because he felt a line had been crossed. Because Dorian Gray had perverted Will's mind, if only for a few months. Because Chilton was scared that Will would take advantage of him again, if he too easily forgave.

Was Will really trying to protect Chilton from Yuri? Or did he not want Yuri to know the truth for darker reasons? There was a time when Chilton would have scoffed at the latter possibility -- but he knew better now.]

Do you have other favorite subjects? Will Grahams aside.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[CLOSED] time-wasting's my crime and history must have a use

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seas the evening instead

i thought about it but it didn't have quite the same ring!

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surprise; don't have a fit

PUPPER

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