"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."
Oh -- yes, yes. I just. [A beat.] My hands are so clean.
[Something Frederick Chilton so rarely got to say, surely he could savor this moment. But, perhaps begrudgingly, he picked up a non-meaty slice at the crust and pinched it between two fingers.]
Rather tame, you say. But what if there's some reprisal? I know you've already thought of that.
[Rincewind only smiles, just pleased that he hasn't failed Chilton in some massive way, like having them put a mushroom he's allergic to on there or something.]
He teleported away before the Luggage could maim him, so there isn't exactly much to reprise against. [looking back, he's still not sure exactly how all that happened, or what Dean thought he knew.] The Luggage will deal with him if he somehow finds me and tries something.
Why is it you don't eat meat? [abrupt, but it's a question he's had since Raina explained vegetarianism to him.] Do you really not like it?
[Ripe for innuendo, thank goodness Jeff wasn't invited.]
But I can't digest animal proteins to the same capacity as I could, previously. I... had a kidney removed. Involuntary. Along with some intestinal tract.
[Chilton stuck out his tongue, guiding the tip of the pizza towards it.]
[luckily Rincewind has already finished his first slice, because he doubts he'll be able to get another down now. He's torn between watching Chilton eat like a man who has never held food before and processing the outrageous, distressing claim the man just made regarding the state of his innards.]
In- Involuntary? Someone really - ?
[oh gods. Oh gods. Rincewind's features squirm in a nauseated expression, trying dearly not to imagine it.]
In my world. [He tactfully decided to gloss over the fact that Abel Gideon had gotten his hands on Chilton twice, once in Baltimore and once in Heropa. The latter didn't involve organ removal, however.
Gideon had surgically cut off bits of Chilton's face and replaced it with metal cogs. Like wind-up clockwork.]
Baltimore is, apparently, an unusually violent place. I've been comparing data between mine and this one regarding serial killers -- while they exist in both, mine seemed to have more psychopaths diffused into the populace.
[A light shrug followed.]
If, ah, if it had happened here. The damage isn't necessarily permanent. Between healers and the homeworld default.
But every time I export back home and return, I will have my kidney missing again. Bit traumatic, actually.
I'll avoid any visits then. [and he can't help but think again that Chilton would have less issues if he weren't so keen on treating psychopaths. Rincewind guesses there's at least a sixty percent chance the person who took the liberty of liberating his organs was a patient.
But those aren't helpful thoughts - certainly not for the man who's gone through something so horrific.]
A bit traumatic? That's a bit of an understatement, isn't it? I don't think I'd ever leave my room again if I'd gone through something like that. So you - you haven't had it healed since coming back then? That or your, well, your other injury? The one from the assault you mentioned?
[Reflexively, Chilton's hand went to the left side of his face -- the cheek that had a bullet penetrate it. His prosthetics were fit in nicely, snugly, his face looked perfectly normal, but he couldn't help his flinching at the allusion.
Rincewind had known, at least vaguely, about it. Chilton had taken the allergy medicine quite keenly.]
We reset when we return home -- so to speak. From what I have observed. Typically our memories remain, yes, but not always -- and much less the physical discrepancies. Our original timeline has some sort of precedence.
[He finished off his glass and poured another one.]
[the gesture catches his attention, but leaves more questions than anything else. If it was Chilton's face that was hurt - and that looks the sort of flinch a wounded man would make - wouldn't there be a scar? Unless it's something stranger; deeper.
Rincewind shifts his weight, discomfited.]
No. No, I imagine you wouldn't. I certainly can't blame you there. I've never had to to deal with something like that. [a beat.] Well, all right, scars, sure, I've plenty of those, but not something that... leaves that sort of lasting, erm. Damage. ...I'm sorry, is what I mean.
[and he's obviously flailing in his attempt to make this less awkward, so he's going to take a minute to empty his glass down his throat. Excuse him.]
Have you got a living room? D'you want to sit down? [please, gods, anything to inspire a change in subject.]
[And all the while Rincewind spoke, Chilton was just watching him, drinking one long wine-filled sip.]
Oh -- yes.
[After his company indicated interest in the living room.]
This way. So I'm to understand that you've been rather... Lucky. Superficial scars, well, we all have those. Will has about eighty. But, as you said, the paucity of lasting damage is what's so crucial.
[he makes sure to fill his own glass again before following. He's not sure what he was expecting - more cushions, maybe - but the room looks devastatingly empty to him, the minimalist style hard and cold.
No wonder Chilton doesn't want to be alone in a house like this; it must echo.
There's a twitch at Rincewind's mouth following the word 'lucky'.]
I assure you, having the Lady's attention [if indeed he even does - he's never been fully convinced] is something of a mixed gift. I'd be quicker to point a finger at coincidence and a keen sense of when to run. There's a reason most of my scars are on my back.
[or psychological.
He settles awkwardly on the nearest chair, smoothing out his robe one-handed and noticing he'll need to take a needle and thread to the leg of his trousers again - one of the dogs must've accidentally clawed it.]
You know, it's a little odd being a home without a million animals now. I keep looking around expecting to see fur on things. You've no pets?
[Intoned Chilton, unknowingly echoing that line of thought. It was a statement he might have been more reticent about speaking upon -- but wine was a fine lubricant.]
Ah. [He looked startled at the question.] No, I do not have any pets. I am not much of a pet person, quite honestly.
[But it wasn't as if he declined animal company out of reaction -- animals seemed to like him well enough, especially dogs. Or perhaps Will's dogs had been trained to get happy at the scent of blood.]
I'm not fond of children, either.
[And categorizing them in the same way as pets probably indicated a lot.]
[Rincewind glances up quickly, surprised to hear the thought spoken aloud. He doesnt comment, however; this isn't a session.
Or if it is, he's pretty sure it's not for him.]
No? They are a bit messy. - Pets, I mean. Though I guess children are as well. Is that it? [he does have vague memories of some annoyance towards the psychiatrist, when he'd been a child - he's not particularly surprised the man doesn't relate to them.]
I wouldn't have said so, before coming here. It never really occurred to me to have an animal, and I have that unfortunate habit of traipsing across various dangerous countries. ...But I've come to like the dogs.
And I have a turtle now. [there's an embarrassed smile at that.] Turturibus. "Bus" for short.
[Chilton had medical training, he could identify an ablative.]
I suppose a turtle would suit you. Cautious and guarded little things, but they tend to do quite well don't they? Humans tends to project onto their pets -- much easier when there are already similarities.
Lat - ? Oh, right, yes. [that's what 'Latatian' is here, that's right. Rincewind nods.] I suppose I am. Not that I don't appreciate things about other languages as well, but La...tin is something of a wizard's language. You know it as well then?
[he squirms against the chair in some useless attempt to make it more comfortable. Why did you design your home to feel like an art gallery, Chilton?]
I wish this one stopped being so suicidal, then. Although I'm starting to suspect an eyesight problem. [seriously, he has never met a small animal so damn determined to walk over ledges or into traffic. Bus may need to talk to someone.]
What would you have? [he waves a quick hand.] I mean, yes, all right, you aren't a pet person - but let's say you had to care for one. What would it be?
[Rincewind's face blossoms into a beaming grin. He's only ever had the one name - he's not even sure if it's a first or a last, and let's be honest, it's not the best as far as names go - but... but it's sweet, the idea someone would give it to something else. Because of him. Out of fondness.
He's still smiling a moment later, genuinely warmed. The wine helps.]
I think I could see you with a cat better though. You're more cat than reptile. - Curious, and all.
And it's a bit fun. Mostly that, really. But it does get a person across to someone else rather neatly, doesn't it? You call someone a bear, for example, and you get a pretty clear picture.
We could make it a something of a game, even. One of us can name an imPort, and the other can name an animal for them. [Rincewind waves a hand in Chilton's direction, prompting. This seems like it could be an excellent distraction for the psychiatrist - something to get his mind off his absent lover.]
Jeff? Hm. No doubt he imagines himself to be something of a wolf -- he presents himself as detached, logical, independent. But you know... [Chilton smirked into his glass as he lounged back in a chair.] He can be so needy. Fear of abandonment.
Perhaps a German Shepard. He's got the bark for one.
A German...? Oh, a sort of dog. [Rincewind nods slowly.] I could certainly see that. Of course they've good traits too. Loyal, for one. Protective.
[He's still getting to know Jeff, but Rincewind would like to think he could see those traits in the man as well. Fear of abandonment, though - that's an interesting tidbit. It's a lot more sensitive an issue than he'd expect of his housemate.
Rincewind's answer (and his frown) takes no time at all.]
A snake. Not one of those poisonous sorts, but... something craftier. Like those ones that wrap around something and squeeze the life from it. Or steal eggs from perfectly innocent birds' nests.
[there's a quick, dark look cast in his wine before he glances Chilton's way.]
But I suppose you'd have a different choice for him?
[Chilton gave Rincewind a small smirk -- while the rift between his two friends certainly invoked some distress, Chilton was not above ignoring the humor of the situation. And Rincewind had that remarkable ability to be so definitively reactive.]
More avian, actually. Something with sharp vision -- like a falcon.
Still a predator, yes, you ought to be pleased by the compromise.
[Rincewind rolls his eyes with a sigh that momentarily becomes a yawn, shaking his head.]
Oh, come on. People like being compared to eagles and falcons and things, he'd think it a compliment. Soaring above everyone else so he can shit on their heads.
Here, what about... [the wizard swirls his wine, groping for a mutual acquaintance.] ...Ra -
- Reggie. Reggie, that assistant of yours. [he squirms.
He'd very nearly said 'Raina', before remembering what a poor choice that was right now.]
[Chilton almost took pause to the name slip, but the visual image of Petyr Baelish taking flight just to drop excrement on the unassuming heads of people proved distracting enough. Ra-Reggie was a welcomed change of pace.]
Reggie, Reggie. Reggie Mantle. Also something predatory, canine-like. Mammal at the very least. Hyena, or a fox. He thinks himself to be something of a prankster, you understand, but Reggie only acts out in thirst for attention.
Does he? I've only spoken with him the once. ...I could see fox for him, I suppose.
[mostly because he's not sure what a hyena is; he's still learning the name of some animals.
He reacts less at the name than usual only because he'd been expecting it; Lucifer's become an expected topic between them. Likewise, Rincewind's answer takes no time at all.]
A tiger. ...Kitty likes to turn into one now, you know. I wish she wouldn't. [the wizard shudders.] They're bloody massive. I've noticed they're somewhat popular here - people making toys of them, putting their pictures on things and so forth - and I can't understand it. I can't understand how people can look at something so clearly built for ripping things apart, and turn it into a toy.
...Mr. March, how about? You've met him, haven't you?
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[Something Frederick Chilton so rarely got to say, surely he could savor this moment. But, perhaps begrudgingly, he picked up a non-meaty slice at the crust and pinched it between two fingers.]
Rather tame, you say. But what if there's some reprisal? I know you've already thought of that.
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He teleported away before the Luggage could maim him, so there isn't exactly much to reprise against. [looking back, he's still not sure exactly how all that happened, or what Dean thought he knew.] The Luggage will deal with him if he somehow finds me and tries something.
Why is it you don't eat meat? [abrupt, but it's a question he's had since Raina explained vegetarianism to him.] Do you really not like it?
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[Ripe for innuendo, thank goodness Jeff wasn't invited.]
But I can't digest animal proteins to the same capacity as I could, previously. I... had a kidney removed. Involuntary. Along with some intestinal tract.
[Chilton stuck out his tongue, guiding the tip of the pizza towards it.]
They were taken from me.
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In- Involuntary? Someone really - ?
[oh gods. Oh gods. Rincewind's features squirm in a nauseated expression, trying dearly not to imagine it.]
Was it... here? Or in your world?
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Gideon had surgically cut off bits of Chilton's face and replaced it with metal cogs. Like wind-up clockwork.]
Baltimore is, apparently, an unusually violent place. I've been comparing data between mine and this one regarding serial killers -- while they exist in both, mine seemed to have more psychopaths diffused into the populace.
[A light shrug followed.]
If, ah, if it had happened here. The damage isn't necessarily permanent. Between healers and the homeworld default.
But every time I export back home and return, I will have my kidney missing again. Bit traumatic, actually.
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But those aren't helpful thoughts - certainly not for the man who's gone through something so horrific.]
A bit traumatic? That's a bit of an understatement, isn't it? I don't think I'd ever leave my room again if I'd gone through something like that. So you - you haven't had it healed since coming back then? That or your, well, your other injury? The one from the assault you mentioned?
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Rincewind had known, at least vaguely, about it. Chilton had taken the allergy medicine quite keenly.]
We reset when we return home -- so to speak. From what I have observed. Typically our memories remain, yes, but not always -- and much less the physical discrepancies. Our original timeline has some sort of precedence.
[He finished off his glass and poured another one.]
I don't want to suffer that loss again.
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Rincewind shifts his weight, discomfited.]
No. No, I imagine you wouldn't. I certainly can't blame you there. I've never had to to deal with something like that. [a beat.] Well, all right, scars, sure, I've plenty of those, but not something that... leaves that sort of lasting, erm. Damage. ...I'm sorry, is what I mean.
[and he's obviously flailing in his attempt to make this less awkward, so he's going to take a minute to empty his glass down his throat. Excuse him.]
Have you got a living room? D'you want to sit down? [please, gods, anything to inspire a change in subject.]
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Oh -- yes.
[After his company indicated interest in the living room.]
This way. So I'm to understand that you've been rather... Lucky. Superficial scars, well, we all have those. Will has about eighty. But, as you said, the paucity of lasting damage is what's so crucial.
I suppose not all of us can be fortune's son.
[The turn of phrase enviously on his tongue.]
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No wonder Chilton doesn't want to be alone in a house like this; it must echo.
There's a twitch at Rincewind's mouth following the word 'lucky'.]
I assure you, having the Lady's attention [if indeed he even does - he's never been fully convinced] is something of a mixed gift. I'd be quicker to point a finger at coincidence and a keen sense of when to run. There's a reason most of my scars are on my back.
[or psychological.
He settles awkwardly on the nearest chair, smoothing out his robe one-handed and noticing he'll need to take a needle and thread to the leg of his trousers again - one of the dogs must've accidentally clawed it.]
You know, it's a little odd being a home without a million animals now. I keep looking around expecting to see fur on things. You've no pets?
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[Intoned Chilton, unknowingly echoing that line of thought. It was a statement he might have been more reticent about speaking upon -- but wine was a fine lubricant.]
Ah. [He looked startled at the question.] No, I do not have any pets. I am not much of a pet person, quite honestly.
[But it wasn't as if he declined animal company out of reaction -- animals seemed to like him well enough, especially dogs. Or perhaps Will's dogs had been trained to get happy at the scent of blood.]
I'm not fond of children, either.
[And categorizing them in the same way as pets probably indicated a lot.]
Are you?
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Or if it is, he's pretty sure it's not for him.]
No? They are a bit messy. - Pets, I mean. Though I guess children are as well. Is that it? [he does have vague memories of some annoyance towards the psychiatrist, when he'd been a child - he's not particularly surprised the man doesn't relate to them.]
I wouldn't have said so, before coming here. It never really occurred to me to have an animal, and I have that unfortunate habit of traipsing across various dangerous countries. ...But I've come to like the dogs.
And I have a turtle now. [there's an embarrassed smile at that.] Turturibus. "Bus" for short.
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[Chilton had medical training, he could identify an ablative.]
I suppose a turtle would suit you. Cautious and guarded little things, but they tend to do quite well don't they? Humans tends to project onto their pets -- much easier when there are already similarities.
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[he squirms against the chair in some useless attempt to make it more comfortable. Why did you design your home to feel like an art gallery, Chilton?]
I wish this one stopped being so suicidal, then. Although I'm starting to suspect an eyesight problem. [seriously, he has never met a small animal so damn determined to walk over ledges or into traffic. Bus may need to talk to someone.]
What would you have? [he waves a quick hand.] I mean, yes, all right, you aren't a pet person - but let's say you had to care for one. What would it be?
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[Chilton would have called that Darwinism at work, but if Rincewind wanted to blame poor eyesight, then so be it.]
What would I have? [Incredulity colored his tone.] Oh -- I don't know. A cat? A lizard? Something low maintenance.
[The fact that he humored the question spoke to his enjoyment of Rincewind's company.]
Had I a lizard, I'd name it after you.
[A lizard wizzard.]
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[Rincewind's face blossoms into a beaming grin. He's only ever had the one name - he's not even sure if it's a first or a last, and let's be honest, it's not the best as far as names go - but... but it's sweet, the idea someone would give it to something else. Because of him. Out of fondness.
He's still smiling a moment later, genuinely warmed. The wine helps.]
I think I could see you with a cat better though. You're more cat than reptile. - Curious, and all.
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[Asked the man who once called Rincewind murine.]
I suppose that has its benefit -- you begin to classify patterns, yes? Not so dissimilar to basic psychiatric diagnosis.
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We could make it a something of a game, even. One of us can name an imPort, and the other can name an animal for them. [Rincewind waves a hand in Chilton's direction, prompting. This seems like it could be an excellent distraction for the psychiatrist - something to get his mind off his absent lover.]
You start - how about Jeffrey?
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Perhaps a German Shepard. He's got the bark for one.
[And Will's favor alone suggests something canine.]
What about... Lord Baelish?
[Chilton did that on purpose.]
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[He's still getting to know Jeff, but Rincewind would like to think he could see those traits in the man as well. Fear of abandonment, though - that's an interesting tidbit. It's a lot more sensitive an issue than he'd expect of his housemate.
Rincewind's answer (and his frown) takes no time at all.]
A snake. Not one of those poisonous sorts, but... something craftier. Like those ones that wrap around something and squeeze the life from it. Or steal eggs from perfectly innocent birds' nests.
[there's a quick, dark look cast in his wine before he glances Chilton's way.]
But I suppose you'd have a different choice for him?
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[Chilton gave Rincewind a small smirk -- while the rift between his two friends certainly invoked some distress, Chilton was not above ignoring the humor of the situation. And Rincewind had that remarkable ability to be so definitively reactive.]
More avian, actually. Something with sharp vision -- like a falcon.
Still a predator, yes, you ought to be pleased by the compromise.
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Oh, come on. People like being compared to eagles and falcons and things, he'd think it a compliment. Soaring above everyone else so he can shit on their heads.
Here, what about... [the wizard swirls his wine, groping for a mutual acquaintance.] ...Ra -
- Reggie. Reggie, that assistant of yours. [he squirms.
He'd very nearly said 'Raina', before remembering what a poor choice that was right now.]
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Reggie, Reggie. Reggie Mantle. Also something predatory, canine-like. Mammal at the very least. Hyena, or a fox. He thinks himself to be something of a prankster, you understand, but Reggie only acts out in thirst for attention.
Ooh. Do Lucifer.
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[mostly because he's not sure what a hyena is; he's still learning the name of some animals.
He reacts less at the name than usual only because he'd been expecting it; Lucifer's become an expected topic between them. Likewise, Rincewind's answer takes no time at all.]
A tiger. ...Kitty likes to turn into one now, you know. I wish she wouldn't. [the wizard shudders.] They're bloody massive. I've noticed they're somewhat popular here - people making toys of them, putting their pictures on things and so forth - and I can't understand it. I can't understand how people can look at something so clearly built for ripping things apart, and turn it into a toy.
...Mr. March, how about? You've met him, haven't you?
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[But Mr. March was a remarkable man, and Chilton wanted a little time to consider what would best suit him -- so he bought time with his tongue.]
Not fond of tigers, are you?
[His finger ran over the rim of his glass.]
Surely it isn't just their size? Perhaps their ferocity? Their camouflage?
[A leer followed -- but it was brief.]
James is a flamingo, I'd say. They are such charming creatures. What about Kitty Jones herself?
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