infomodder | ic contact 2 mask or menace

[He blinks. His chest rises, falls, a deep breath that doesn't have any real sound accompanying it.]

You know, best of all, what I'm capable of when I need to be. That morality and ethics can be pushed aside when they'll only get in the way. Hannibal made a massacre of Verger farms to save my life, and I came back to him of my own accord. I am not an innocent man. My hands are soaked in blood.

[He swallows, eyes never leaving Chilton as he speaks. He wants to see how the raw and blunt hits him.]

This isn't a revelation for you, Frederick. You're smarter than that. This is confirmation.

[That given the right wrong pushes, and the means, and the motivation, Will can be a batshit nutter butter MURDER MAN. Until he comes to his senses, if ever, at any rate. Gonna have to test that tolerate meter before it can really really turn into an enjoyment bar.]

[Chilton dipped his chin towards his chest, his eyes clear and knowing. Hannibal had sunk deeply into Will -- Hannibal himself had marked his territory and intention to Chilton, even if the full brunt of his meaning was only transparent well after the fact.

All that parallel between Abel Gideon and Will, Chilton and Hannibal, Will and Hannibal. All that mirroring, all that mimicry, all that blood that soaked into foreign veins.]

You have boundaries you will not cross.

[It was not a statement of fact. It was a plea.

Chilton wanted to be that boundary.]

[Silence. The twitch of an eyebrow. Then both knitting together, lines appearing near his eyes, his cheeks, lips twisted and teeth showing enough that the very idea of really harming Frederick Chilton* for any reason that was not to save his own life or April's was entirely horrible a taste.]

Yes. Hannibal has boundaries. [Not a reassuring statement he realizes, and his face gives that away as well.] Different. We have different boundaries. For the most part.

[*the very idea of really harming Frederick Chilton here in this world is one Will does not like to consider, mystery gifts being non-lethal as they were.]

You would not do what he has done to you -- not in your current state, your relevant circumstance.

[Chilton had to quickly amend his statement, knowing full well that everything Will had done in that nightmare landscape came from something within him, something dark and gnawing. Memory directed behavior, but even memory had to be experienced through some vessel of personality.]

And the fact that you will not deny it is promising. Uplifting, even.

[He swallowed.]

Reassuring.

[Was it really? He hoped. Chilton felt equal parts concern and attempting to quell that concern — but whether that was due to Will being so open about the whole murder thing and thoughts of being unsafe or due to Chilton being interested in that aspect of him, he couldn't be sure. Not immediately.

This is entirely intimate. Will lifts a hand to scratch his neck, the gesture more awkward than necessary.]

Is this where we hug?

[or do men just nod silently and cry alone]

I am not Alana Bloom.

[He meant it as a nostalgic tease, but it sounded weighty in his mouth. He was no Alana Bloom, he was not Will's almost-romance, he was not Will's steadfast psychiatrist.

Chilton was, whether wanted to recognize it or not, stepping before the firing range. And while Will maintained a mutual sense of brotherhood in this world, their shared adventure was destined to be forgotten the moment they once more set foot upon Baltimore's streets.]

I... Am simply glad. That you told me. This is not something you need to solely burden yourself with.

[Things would have taken a super different turn if he had been, and the idea of a colder, crueler stay at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane flashes behind his eyes. Imagining it. Instead of having been mere acquaintances for work, having been intimate, and therefore a more personal betrayal. What Alana had for Hannibal, only Will wouldn't be getting any fancy cages, any books, any art supplies...it's a brutal thought. Unappetizing.

Of course, rather than focus on the kinder aspects, his minds jumps to the horror immediately. Conditioning.]

Thanks for listening. [Abruptly, he looks at his watch, face that usual, neutral mask. It's not been long at all, but he seems to be showing all the signs he's ready to leave. And on the tail end of confessions! Yikes. Except...] You have dinner plans? Saw a promising little diner on my walk here.

[It's basically a fancier Waffle House and that's part of the charm. Also part of the charm? Frederick Chilton in his fancy clothes asking how Will can really sure that the seats are not sticky, why would take me here, yes. That sounds great. Better than going home in a half hour or so to stew some more.]

[Chilton could only imagine how Alana would have treated Will in Hannibal's stead -- but he would have agreed with Will that the bitter heel of her reign over him would have been colder, crueler. The stark difference between her favoritism of Hannibal over Will.

She had told Chilton that she would find herself thinking differently. She blamed the broken marrow that had spilled into her bloodstream, but Chilton knew better. She had always possessed a dagger in her smile -- it was what he liked about her.

It was what he would come to regret about her.]

A diner, Will?

[The pained look on Chilton's face underscored that he understood the humiliation implied.]

Edited 2017-05-12 00:38 (UTC)

A diner.

[Confirmation comes as Will pushes himself to a stand, nodding along in case the words aren't enough. He's smiling, though. They're all friends here. The two of them. And any stag-shaped statues. Probably.]

Come on. Where's your sense of adventure? [He checks his pocket, making sure his wallet's there.] We can go somewhere normal for once.

[Spicing it up with salt and pepper instead of sage and oh my God is that a tongue, Hannibal please, why, who hurt you.]

I am still vegan.

[Well, reluctantly and only most of the time. But Chilton possessed a medical need to watch his protein intake -- if he lapsed to often in that regard, then he would be forced to reduce his alcohol intake.

One kidney could only withstand so much.]

Do they have a vegan option? [A, singular (as if any rustic diner couldn't exceed beyond that much), and spoken with a sneer. Frederick Chilton wasn't going down without a fight, Will might have to unleashed the collar.]

I dunno.

[A rare phrase to come out of Will Graham's mouth. It's accompanied by him ever so helpfully moving to shut any window curtains that might need it — if not, perhaps a lamp is on? Or maybe he left a pen uncapped. Or maybe nothing and Will ends up meandering like a lost little lamb. It's an easy flow. No rush, no stumbling. Comfortable. If Chilton imagines Will doing this with Hannibal's desk lamp, with those sinister curtains, he wouldn't be wrong. Some habits die hard — he who runs the space will always be the one who shuts it, who locks it, of course, but small gestures of aid within another's domain are simply helpful, aren't they?]

One way to find out. [And then, if the idea of friendly ADVENTURE is not enough, he adds:] You chose that brunch place. S'my turn.

[This for that, forever.]

[Will had him there.

Chilton sucked at his lower lip, his eyes cast downwards. He chose that brunch place, now was Will's turn.]

I suppose.

[Chilton, while deeply unethical when his personal ambition was concerned, nevertheless maintained a sense of fairness in all other social regard. He invested in his image, and therefore how his image reflected his relationships; it would have been rude to act hypocritically. And there were some reflections that Chilton didn't want to see staring back at him.

With a mock gesture, his elbow at a right angle and his flat palm pointed at the door, Chilton said:]

Lead the way.

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