"Er... yes, okay, I suppose I should tell you that if you're trying to reach me I'm not here, and if you're trying to reach me because you want to do something involving pointy bits of metal or otherwise painful objects, I'm never going to be here. So sorry."
[it takes a stern talking-to (and there's more pouting than should be possible for joinery), but the Luggage draws its legs into itself in the end, ready to sulk on the porch for the rest of the night at its master's bequest.
Rincewind comes bearing gifts - a half veggie, half sausage and mushroom pizza and two bottles of red wine. They aren't the best, but he hopes they'll be better than whatever "box wine" is. He holds both arm-fulls up for inspection after rapping on the door.
Hopefully Chilton hasn't passed out in the twenty minutes it took him to get here, or this pose is going to get awkward. And tiring.]
[He answers the door only to lean against the frame of the threshold, squinting at Rincewind -- his glass of sloshing boxed wine in hand. He had not taken the advice to ease off the sludge.]
Mr. Rincewind! Hello. Please, please, come inside.
[Chilton pulled open the door, offering only a sneer to the abandoned Luggage. He beckoned Rincewind to the kitchen, announcing that the pizza and (more importantly) the wine can go on the table.]
Look at you, with your hat. [Another sip.] I'm glad you've come.
[a previously discussed, the Luggage may not have eyes, but Chilton will surely feel its wooden glare as he closes the door.
Rincewind feels out of place as soon as he steps inside, reluctant to move from the foyer. It's - very nice in here. And clean. Distracted, he eventually keys back in long enough to toe his sandals off and walk to the kitchen on socked feet.]
- Hm? Oh, well, yes. The day I'm without it is the day you'll know I've been possessed by something likely ancient and terrible, so you know. Watch out for that, will you?
[he watches Chilton with some amusement.]
I take it you've found a way to swallow past the homicide? - And you've a lovely home, I should mention that.
Turns out I have quite the tolerance for homicide.
[The Baltimore legend persists. He moved, sometimes swerved, to the cabinet with the other wine glasses. Soon Rincewind was presented with one of his own.]
We have to buy you real shoes. One day.
[Drunk or not, Chilton always had fashion advice to deliver.]
Sandals have their uses. [he leaned back against the counter with his new glass and shrugged.] Very light, aerodynamic. Dorian threatened as much the other day, you know. A shopping trip.
[although more for pants and shirts; between the two of them Rincewind could find himself with a new wardrobe. He was still on the fence about these modern clothes, personally - a robe still seemed the perfect all-weather answer.]
...Feeling all right? [he tried to keep his tone as casual as he could.]
Feeling lost. [A beat.] Lonely. [Another beat.] Less lonely now, of course.
[Chilton got about opening a bottle, serving himself first before Rincewind.]
Dorian Gray? The man's a narcissist. Malignant, bored -- the kind who'd brutalize you if it suited his fancy. [A long, long sip of wine followed.] Better hope he sincerely likes you.
Well, I know I'm a poor substitute - [something of an understatement] - but I'll do the best I can.
[and try not to think about the self-imposed pressure there, lest he anxiously overthink it. Wine will help that, of course. Rincewind eyes Chilton's pour before putting his own glass helpfully in range.]
Brutalize? [a hard blink. He fidgets in place.] I mean - yes, he's an immortal, they tend to be somewhat dangerous on the whole, but that seems a bit harsh. I mean, he introduced me to what jacuzzis are, the first night we met. We seem to get on all right.
[that's unsettling, that phrasing. Rincewind would remind his friend about his position concerning vague non-answers, but gets the feeling that with how much Chilton's had to drink his memory - and probably everything else - is rather slippery right now.]
But then I don't understand. [he glances up, searching Chilton's face for clarity.] He was your patient, you were treating him, but you... transferred him to Raina? Who isn't a psychiatrist. Only, she told me she mostly researches imPort powers and such.
Nothing could help him. He is beyond help -- he needed a diversion.
[And a use. Which Raina could provide, to her liking.]
I took on his boyfriend, Tobias, who is a far more engaging patient. Personally I am amazed someone like Tobias would find Dorian attractive, but you know the old adage. Opposites attract.
Oh. [gosh, he hadn't realized Dorian was so plagued. He takes a deep drink, shaking his head. There are still too many questions there for the wizard, but - it's also not his business. Rincewind is a poor gossip when the subject doesn't inspire loathing or perk survival-based self-interest.]
The vampire? I haven't met him yet. [perhaps unsurprisingly, given the vampirisim.] They are getting married, last I heard, so it must be working out for them.
I really hate that saying, though. Rather implies I should be courting reckless, sadistic bastards. [a beat.] Provided wizards were allowed to court, of course.
And you've said you and Raina are something alike, aren't you?
We're both physically appealing and highly intelligent, so yes, we are something alike.
[Chilton, with his nearly emptied glass, toasted to that -- then refilled, and doubled his toast.]
Opposites might attract, but that doesn't necessitate relationship survival. [A sly reference to his opinion of the upcoming nuptials.] I think you will be perfectly fine avoiding the reckless and the sadistic. Provided that you -- ah -- are allowed to court.
[That brought another juvenile smirk to his mouth. Wizards, potentially not allowed to court? No one warmed the imPorn community!]
Why? Is there someone you've got your eye on? Is she -- he? -- quite lovely?
[Rincewind matches the toast, offering an awkward smile. He also offers:]
I do think she'll come back. For what it's worth. I mean I know I tend to look on the more - [depressingly accurate] - unpleasant side of things, but I do think a better outcome is possible, in this case.
[he certainly hopes so, for Chilton's sake.
It's more than the wine inspiring a pink flush on Rincewind's ears and neck at the playful question, the joking smirk.]
No, no, I wouldn't - I mean, I mentioned that sort of thing isn't allowed to wizards anyway, but also I just haven't. Wouldn't.
...Baelish seems to think I ought to discuss it with you. [Rincewind's mouth screws around his next drink, muttering:] Of course the bloody brothel keeper would think so.
[And he did. It was the sort of hope that Chilton was too frightened to voice himself.]
He -- ah, oh yes. [A quiet pinkening around Chilton's ears.] I do remember Petyr mentioning his prior occupation. Once or twice. I wouldn't think too much of it, he probably tends to understand people through their desires. Physical desires. And if you have... None... It likely flummoxes him.
- And it's not that I don't, I'm not a virgin or anything. [quickly defensive.] I mean... all right, I probably don't think about it as much as other people, but I tend to have all my focus taken by the various people who want to hurt me.
[and noticing those pink ears:]
Does it bother you too when he brings it up? That little occupation of his.
[Chilton cleared his throat, looking into the wine puddle he left in his glass.]
A vestige of his former world, I imagine. It is... Unfortunate. But he is learning about modern propriety.
[More like Baelish didn't use his more unsavory implications to insult Chilton, unlike with Rincewind.]
I certainly hope fewer people are trying to kill you here than in your old world. Maybe that statistic alone would allow you to breathe a little easier? I daresay no one ought to deny you the happiness of coupling, should you want to pursue such a thing.
Oh, yes. Whatever else, Lord Baelish is a quick study.
[and don't mind Rincewind, he'll just break the seal on this pizza box; the smell teased him the whole way over here.]
Mmm, not kill, no. ...I don't think. [he gives a philosophical wave of his pizza slice, follows it with another drink of wine.] I mean, I did get chased onto a roof by a demon last week, gods knows what could have happened there, but mostly this world has been a whole mess of other dangers. I also suppose I've some dubious protection now, at least where death's concerned.
So, you know. Perhaps. [he swipes his sleeve over his mouth, swallowing another bite.] Jeff has convinced himself he's going to set me on some sort of date. I don't suppose I can hide here if he sends some monstrous thug to my door for a laugh?
[Some dubious protection now. Of course, Chilton thought Lucifer initially -- but a moment later, he realized that it was quite possible that Rincewind was speaking of the psychiatrist. Given their interactions as of late, at least.
More reason to underscore dubious.]
I doubt that Winger would even speak to a monstrous thug, much less play matchmaker to one. [Said Chilton, after a thoughtful poke at the pizza. He frowned at it, as if contemplating grabbing a knife and fork.
He decided against it.]
Anticipate your date to be at least moderately attractive.
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[And if he had Rincewind's file in hand, he'd flap it about. But he does not, he hasn't even paperwork to keep him company -- yet.]
I will be seeing you.
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[teasing, and already rather enjoying this side to his psychiatrist.]
Anyway, right, I'll be there shortly.
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Rincewind comes bearing gifts - a half veggie, half sausage and mushroom pizza and two bottles of red wine. They aren't the best, but he hopes they'll be better than whatever "box wine" is. He holds both arm-fulls up for inspection after rapping on the door.
Hopefully Chilton hasn't passed out in the twenty minutes it took him to get here, or this pose is going to get awkward. And tiring.]
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Mr. Rincewind! Hello. Please, please, come inside.
[Chilton pulled open the door, offering only a sneer to the abandoned Luggage. He beckoned Rincewind to the kitchen, announcing that the pizza and (more importantly) the wine can go on the table.]
Look at you, with your hat. [Another sip.] I'm glad you've come.
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Rincewind feels out of place as soon as he steps inside, reluctant to move from the foyer. It's - very nice in here. And clean. Distracted, he eventually keys back in long enough to toe his sandals off and walk to the kitchen on socked feet.]
- Hm? Oh, well, yes. The day I'm without it is the day you'll know I've been possessed by something likely ancient and terrible, so you know. Watch out for that, will you?
[he watches Chilton with some amusement.]
I take it you've found a way to swallow past the homicide? - And you've a lovely home, I should mention that.
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[The Baltimore legend persists. He moved, sometimes swerved, to the cabinet with the other wine glasses. Soon Rincewind was presented with one of his own.]
We have to buy you real shoes. One day.
[Drunk or not, Chilton always had fashion advice to deliver.]
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[although more for pants and shirts; between the two of them Rincewind could find himself with a new wardrobe. He was still on the fence about these modern clothes, personally - a robe still seemed the perfect all-weather answer.]
...Feeling all right? [he tried to keep his tone as casual as he could.]
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[Chilton got about opening a bottle, serving himself first before Rincewind.]
Dorian Gray? The man's a narcissist. Malignant, bored -- the kind who'd brutalize you if it suited his fancy. [A long, long sip of wine followed.] Better hope he sincerely likes you.
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[and try not to think about the self-imposed pressure there, lest he anxiously overthink it. Wine will help that, of course. Rincewind eyes Chilton's pour before putting his own glass helpfully in range.]
Brutalize? [a hard blink. He fidgets in place.] I mean - yes, he's an immortal, they tend to be somewhat dangerous on the whole, but that seems a bit harsh. I mean, he introduced me to what jacuzzis are, the first night we met. We seem to get on all right.
How do you know him?
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[Gave him. Like one might a piece of meat.]
Like most socially adequate narcissists, Dorian knows how to put on a nice face. Just isn't his real one.
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- Raina's a psychiatrist as well?
[or... perhaps was, given current circumstances.]
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[Chilton smirked, thinking himself so funny, before indulging in an enigmatic sip.]
More wine?
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[that's unsettling, that phrasing. Rincewind would remind his friend about his position concerning vague non-answers, but gets the feeling that with how much Chilton's had to drink his memory - and probably everything else - is rather slippery right now.]
But then I don't understand. [he glances up, searching Chilton's face for clarity.] He was your patient, you were treating him, but you... transferred him to Raina? Who isn't a psychiatrist. Only, she told me she mostly researches imPort powers and such.
How would that help him?
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[And a use. Which Raina could provide, to her liking.]
I took on his boyfriend, Tobias, who is a far more engaging patient. Personally I am amazed someone like Tobias would find Dorian attractive, but you know the old adage. Opposites attract.
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The vampire? I haven't met him yet. [perhaps unsurprisingly, given the vampirisim.] They are getting married, last I heard, so it must be working out for them.
I really hate that saying, though. Rather implies I should be courting reckless, sadistic bastards. [a beat.] Provided wizards were allowed to court, of course.
And you've said you and Raina are something alike, aren't you?
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[Chilton, with his nearly emptied glass, toasted to that -- then refilled, and doubled his toast.]
Opposites might attract, but that doesn't necessitate relationship survival. [A sly reference to his opinion of the upcoming nuptials.] I think you will be perfectly fine avoiding the reckless and the sadistic. Provided that you -- ah -- are allowed to court.
[That brought another juvenile smirk to his mouth. Wizards, potentially not allowed to court? No one warmed the imPorn community!]
Why? Is there someone you've got your eye on? Is she -- he? -- quite lovely?
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I do think she'll come back. For what it's worth. I mean I know I tend to look on the more - [depressingly accurate] - unpleasant side of things, but I do think a better outcome is possible, in this case.
[he certainly hopes so, for Chilton's sake.
It's more than the wine inspiring a pink flush on Rincewind's ears and neck at the playful question, the joking smirk.]
No, no, I wouldn't - I mean, I mentioned that sort of thing isn't allowed to wizards anyway, but also I just haven't. Wouldn't.
...Baelish seems to think I ought to discuss it with you. [Rincewind's mouth screws around his next drink, muttering:] Of course the bloody brothel keeper would think so.
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[And he did. It was the sort of hope that Chilton was too frightened to voice himself.]
He -- ah, oh yes. [A quiet pinkening around Chilton's ears.] I do remember Petyr mentioning his prior occupation. Once or twice. I wouldn't think too much of it, he probably tends to understand people through their desires. Physical desires. And if you have... None... It likely flummoxes him.
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[flatly stated and punctuated with a drink.]
- And it's not that I don't, I'm not a virgin or anything. [quickly defensive.] I mean... all right, I probably don't think about it as much as other people, but I tend to have all my focus taken by the various people who want to hurt me.
[and noticing those pink ears:]
Does it bother you too when he brings it up? That little occupation of his.
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A vestige of his former world, I imagine. It is... Unfortunate. But he is learning about modern propriety.
[More like Baelish didn't use his more unsavory implications to insult Chilton, unlike with Rincewind.]
I certainly hope fewer people are trying to kill you here than in your old world. Maybe that statistic alone would allow you to breathe a little easier? I daresay no one ought to deny you the happiness of coupling, should you want to pursue such a thing.
Not even Lucifer.
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[and don't mind Rincewind, he'll just break the seal on this pizza box; the smell teased him the whole way over here.]
Mmm, not kill, no. ...I don't think. [he gives a philosophical wave of his pizza slice, follows it with another drink of wine.] I mean, I did get chased onto a roof by a demon last week, gods knows what could have happened there, but mostly this world has been a whole mess of other dangers. I also suppose I've some dubious protection now, at least where death's concerned.
So, you know. Perhaps. [he swipes his sleeve over his mouth, swallowing another bite.] Jeff has convinced himself he's going to set me on some sort of date. I don't suppose I can hide here if he sends some monstrous thug to my door for a laugh?
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More reason to underscore dubious.]
I doubt that Winger would even speak to a monstrous thug, much less play matchmaker to one. [Said Chilton, after a thoughtful poke at the pizza. He frowned at it, as if contemplating grabbing a knife and fork.
He decided against it.]
Anticipate your date to be at least moderately attractive.
[A beat.]
What was that about a demon?
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