infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

You might be too late for that.

[He won't say it, not fully. He won't admit what he knows about Danger dying by Gideon's hands, he won't indulge Will Graham with that force of knowledge. But it's a little funny, isn't it? A little tragic, the will of this killer-catcher (a killer himself, even if it was just Hobbs) living amidst killers.

Well, and Freddie Lounds.]

But no, I suggest you concern yourself more with Hannibal than with Abel. You are so intimate with Doctor Lecter, after all.

[This diversion wasn't a claim on Gideon -- Chilton had already abandoned that project, long ago, much as it pained him. Two years is such an investment.]

I must have missed the details of such charming footage. You'll have to forgive me. Recent events have been somewhat hectic.

Usually am.

[Part of the job, being late. Finding the aftermath, the ones that can't be saved. At all. There is too much Hannibal Lecter in this conversation, as far as Will is concerned. Too much for it to be good if it ended up shared, willingly or otherwise. Time to shut it down, bit by bit. Lead up to it.]

I'm as concerned with him as I need to be. Let's leave it at that. [Patients getting too concerned with their psychiatrists can go in such poor places; he's not running the risk of getting that accusation. Will's constant shuffling through the Network to glean every word that comes from the Baltimore crew isn't the same—not that he expects everyone outside them to get that, of course.] Regular sort of hectic or am I not supposed to ask?

[Killer-catcher living amidst killers, not what he wanted out of life. A little tragic, to be sure, but there's burden on his shoulders, too. He can find another job. He knows where they keep files for resignation, knows how to write a letter. He's played his own part in it. There might be a grouping of them here, too, but he's got a vampire/wolf/human and a pot dealer who turns into a dog as roommates. There are plenty of distractions to be found under his own damn roof.]

If it has anything to do with Abigail in the house, I'd prefer you tell me bluntly. I can't control her, but I can and will talk to her if she's doing something she can control and shouldn't.

[Something she can control—oh yes, he saw those conversations about nightmares. He heard how she woke up from her coma, the climbing walls, talked to the staff at Port Haven. Perhaps he can be imagined as the anguished not-actual-father who's just trying to do right this time, worried about his little girl but unable to bring himself to get close enough that they'd be in the same house, restless about how she is, what's going on with her, perhaps even jealous that someone who isn't him or someone who people might think he doesn't approve of is nearby.

In reality, at the moment, anything he can do to get this talk away from Lecter is what he'll do. Invoking the name of Abigail Hobbs is as good a shift as any.]

Abigail Hobbs? We've talked only briefly, and most of that has been over the Network. She is not particularly fond of my company. [Understatement.] And I'll be the first to admit that I'm not keen on children. I assure you, I'm staying out of her way as much as she's staying out of mine.

[That served a mutual utility. Chilton had to tread carefully around Abigail, knowing that both Hannibal and Will took an interest in the girl. To say that he avoided excessive contact with the above (one only because of the lure he proved to be for the other) would be the second understatement established within a few breaths.]

Did you notice that Danger had gone missing?

[It wasn't a misdirection, this forceful diversion.]

I'm not sure if you are indeed in frequent contact with her, or not.

Even so, if anything crops up? Feel free to let me know. I extended her the same in regards to you.

[She can't punch Chilton, house rule. Will has the feeling that of the three adults here who have any real impact on Abigail's life, the most educated and seemingly respectable of the three of them is the last one that Frederick Chilton (or anyone, really) would want to go reporting to. He can't blame him for that one.

Misdirection, diversion, whatever it was, Will didn't mind it. His answer wasn't anything that spoke well of his abilities with people, but that's the least of his problems.]

Had? So you're saying she's back? I hadn't noticed, no. Do you mean gone missing the way you and Gideon went missing or something else? Danger and I haven't spoken since Abigail got here. I kept meaning to remedy that.

[But Abigail. But Lecter. But Will sucks. He really should say something (if had is purposefully used to mean she's back), especially now that the rather cryptic parts of her talk with him last make an alarming amount of sense.

Makes him wonder how she knew. If maybe Chilton told her. Who else would tell her, Gideon? Did Freddie? Did everyone else get the 411 before him, had they planned that one out, was it universally agreed on to keep Will in the dark?]

You're truly connecting Abigail and myself, aren't you?

[It was more sardonically typed than not, and only partially intended to get under Will's skin. The attempt was lackluster, and the effect was likely even more tepid -- Chilton's focus remained on their alternative topic at hand: Danger.]

It was something else, rather. Her vanishing was something more intentional.

[He knew he didn't have to outright say murderous.]

She won't appreciate me making mention, of course, but I thought you of all people ought to know. No one in our number is sworn to play by the rules, are they?

[He just wanted to have an ordinary in the bait shop when he woke up. He wanted to get everything in line for his little fishing trip with (former) Judge Petrov and let that be what could pass for excitement. It was going to be fine. Good, even. The miasma of Baltimore would follow him in thoughts, as it always did, but everything would go swimmingly other than that.

He highly doubts Frederick Chilton knew that Will thought of this as a day that wouldn't be so bad, saw this as a way to actively destroy a "good" day in Will Graham's life, but, well. It's been done, no going back. And none of that day ruining comes a bit from the prod about Abigail and he being connected. They're connected whether Will wants them to be or not, especially here. He can't do anything about that, end of discussion.]

Something else that is intentional implies a someone else acting intentionally. [If it was Hannibal Lecter, would Freddie have put it on Tattlecrime? Would he go after an imPort first, ever? Would Chilton say that much outright?] Oughtn't I to know who it was, too, Frederick?

[She won't appreciate him making mention, he says, but then goes scant and shy with the details. How to fix that, how to...]

Unless you're suggesting I find out from her.

[suggesting

Not a one of them sworn to play by the rules at all.]

What, can't you do that thing of yours? Or must you be present at the scene of the crime? I'm asking quite honestly. Your tactic of empathy can be so fascinating.

[He was, in fact, more so baiting the bait master.]

She might already know that I've passed along the word. You know how Danger can be, so possessive in her surveillance.

Or, at least, she is with me. If only she were more vigilant with the third party in discussion, well then, this wouldn't even be a topic at hand.

The only thing I do is interpret the evidence. That requires evidence for me to follow. Same as plenty of others in my former line of work.

[And Chilton's doing a damn good job of it. Will's communicator has not been gripped this tightly in quite some time. It is, most likely, better for both of them that Will keeps up the blustery winds of bullshit as opposed to veering off into anything about pure empathy.

Jack Crawford gives him crime scenes, bodies, pictures, all of the physical that can be found. Evidence, plenty of it. Here, Frederick Chilton gives him words. Choice words, the conversation has been nothing but that. Choice words that he reads back through, notices white knuckles, eases up. Going right to his thing, though, Will has to wonder:]

Has Gideon told you why? Did he tell her why, did she pass that along? Do you have a theory about it that you'd like confirmation on?

[Clean up the place, go fishing with someone he's never met in person, carry on an ordinary day. Nothing involved muddling the waters, getting back (or even considering it) into Abel Gideon's head. Fact checking for Frederick Chilton, is that it?]

If you're coming to me for a why, Frederick, the how is extremely helpful.

[Helpful.

Not necessary. Not like it would be with an unknown. But that's the evidence of the past he has to work on, not because he has a thing. Or so he'd argue. Be tempted to argue.]

I have only spoken to Danger. She is, after all, my patient. Gideon had long ago forfeited that opportunity.

[Chilton had theories, of course. He knew intimately well what dark daggers poked into Gideon's paranoid brain -- after all, had not Chilton poised most of them? Gideon, dissociative and homicidal, wasn't a born serial killer. But he had been bred into one.

Chilton could not escape his own guilt, even if he never heard it whisper to him.]

I'm not the messenger. [Arrows and bullets happened to messengers.] Who do you think is going to be blamed, if you go snooping?

[There is so much to say about the idea of opportunity in regards to Chilton and Gideon, things that run through his head but don't quite make it to his fingers. Rehashing the same old shit won't do anybody any good, and Chilton's been through a future where he's sure to have heard an earful or two from Will. If not face-to-face, then through some sort of monitoring process. Better to just let it go for now, to not take every opportunity to whisper that guilt.]

Snooping and fishing are two different things. [Not a messenger, no. Waving a banner pretty loud and clear, though, whether he meant to or not.] I don't see how any blame could be reasonably put on you if fishing goes wrong on my end. I'm not your patient. I'm not your friend. I'm just a guy who's come across you for work a few times. [The one thing that Will hides behind whenever questions get uncomfortable, that right there. How would he know either Chilton or Gideon very well? They've only met for work! He can't know them much just from that, come on now.] I'm not doing you a favor. I'm doing it for me. That's where the blame should go.

[This time.]

Any other bloody shirts to wave in front of my nose while you've got me?

[Bloodhounds.]

Honestly, I doubt Danger would appreciate your specious claim on the difference. She is such a highly efficient mechanism.

[And much too aware of human behavior. After all, when she had come into Chilton's room late at night to inject him, she knew he would succumb before the threat of force. She knew that he would calculate his options and that he understood he could not win that battle.]

But she'll know I tipped you. And I doubt she'll appreciate your logic, mind, I'm saying this right after I called her highly efficient -- but she is prone to biased emotions. And she is not pleased with me overall.

[Perhaps he had said too much, again, he thought after having sent that text. But it was self-explanatory, wasn't it? He knew that Will could make the argument on how any given person could be none too pleased with Chilton, overall.]

No other scents to hound. I'll give you a whistle if I change my mind, however.

[Blah blah blah blah blah blah, profiles a patient to someone without permission, follows it up with saying she's not pleased with him, Will has no idea why that would be. Of course, he's well aware that talking to him is a bit different than talking to every Tom, Dick, and Harry around about a patient, different from having a wagging tongue...

Again, plenty of things to say, not a one of them helpful. Bite his tongue, settle his fingers, move along as best he can.]

I'll keep all of that in mind. [Please stop talking to me about this I just want to breed crickets in peace.] Let's keep the whistling to a minimum in regards to this. If it involves Baltimore, let me know. Go to the police with anyone else. I've got a bait shop to run.

[That use of "specious" is a good one. He hasn't been muzzled, exactly, but he's still got that scenthound, sighthound quality that can be called upon when the time is right. And while he might have issues with the bloody mess of a crew gathered here, well. They're still his people, for better or worse.

For better or worse for everyone involved, more than he realizes.]

You're loyal to the pack, so to speak?

[Will's interest in the Baltimore core would, in other circumstances, be somewhat engaged with an emotion. But Chilton knew that the FBI's darling had his priorities.]

Fear not, I don't plan to keep you out of the loop. I'm keeping clean on our arrangement.

And you have the others to look out for.

So to speak.

[That would be a yes, yes he is. Chilton's right about Will having his priorities. Whether he likes it or not, every single person originating from their world has become something of a number one, which makes any emotions about it all better to ignore. Too messy, best to keep clinical.]

You keep clean, I'll keep clean. [Which means nothing is clean, but there's no one around to call that much out. Thankfully. He's ignoring the loop mention, doesn't expect Chilton to suddenly just blurt out the one big part of the loop that he's been missing, the loop that wrapped around his neck and hung him as it smiled and called him friend. It's good for all involved for Will to remain in the dark.] Fear not, I have enough time to look out for everyone.

[The wholly unnecessary reminder that a certain someone is still keeping track of Frederick Chilton's every public move in between playing with nasty bugs, customers, crossword puzzles, and a mundane life he's desperate to cling to as long as possible.]

I'll talk to you later.

[It's an inevitability.]

I'll hold you to that, Will.

[Eerie parting words -- as he intended, in his dubious last grasp for authority.]

IC contact [Mask or Menace]

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