infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

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.]

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