"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."
[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?
I'm not fond of anything that has a mind to eat me. [Rincewind retorts while looking away, a touch embarrassed for reasons he can't put his finger on.]
Flamingo? ...I've seen those. I would have gone frog, I think. There are these small, colorful sorts you find in damp forests. Something colorful. Flamingo suits that well enough.
Oh, but hummingbird for Kitty. Absolutely. Even if she prefers being feline.
[Rincewind draws up his legs, curling further into the chair. There's little left in his glass now - most of it has already seeped in like a warm blanket. He can't imagine how Chilton hasn't already passed out yet, given what he knows the man has had tonight.]
Well, when the alternative is drowning. [lightly. He suspects he's being mollified, but he's fine moving on - the universe has a habit of snatching good things away if he brings too much attention to them.]
Last one then. ...I did think cat was rather apt. [thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling.] Bit too independent, maybe. Although I suppose it depends on the cat. ...Octopus? They're intelligent, I've read. Bit secretive. They can do that thing with the ink. Or is that squids? ...No, no, on second thought that's not quite suitable either...
[strap in, Chilton, apparently this is now a matter of Great Importance.]
[Said Chilton, his attempt to mollify Rincewind by downplaying this matter of Great Importance. It occurred to the psychiatrist that his friend might get a little invested in the game -- often individuals who suffered from constant anxiety and, in Rincewind's case, paranoia for their own safety put strategic emphasis on the little things that they could control.
[a touch hurried, like he can feel the clock ticking down on his window of opportunity. When the light-bulb finally goes off, it's with a snap of fingers and a look of triumph.]
- Ferret! There it is, that's it. Absolutely. They're clever, but they aren't the bastards that weasels are. Bit cute and fluffy, really. And they ferret things away - I mean of course, being ferrets - and their curiosity gets them into trouble but they're small and quick enough to usually get out of it again.
[Rincewind folds his arms smugly, looking exceedingly proud of himself to have ended the game on a proper note.]
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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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Flamingo? ...I've seen those. I would have gone frog, I think. There are these small, colorful sorts you find in damp forests. Something colorful. Flamingo suits that well enough.
Oh, but hummingbird for Kitty. Absolutely. Even if she prefers being feline.
[Rincewind arches a brow]
So, do you still find me a rat?
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[Well, not that anyone would accuse Rincewind or Chilton of wanting to eat James March -- not to their faces, anyway. Probably.
He nodded at Rincewind's depiction of Kitty, thinking it apt.]
Ah -- Is there something wrong with being a rat?
[Perhaps he shouldn't have said rat. There were other related creatures, more beloved breeds.]
I suppose you have a softer side. Otters are intelligent, you know, and rarely rabid.
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A softer side? What's that supposed to mean?
[a pause. ...Partly to wipe a bit of wine from his chin.]
...I suppose that's all right. I don't know much about them. Except they swim, don't they? I can't swim. But then this is metaphorical.
Did you want me to choose one for you?
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[The question bought him a moment to consider his response to Rincewind's question.]
Softer, more approachable. You've attracted plenty of positive attention here, haven't you? Metaphorically keeping your head above water.
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Well, when the alternative is drowning. [lightly. He suspects he's being mollified, but he's fine moving on - the universe has a habit of snatching good things away if he brings too much attention to them.]
Last one then. ...I did think cat was rather apt. [thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling.] Bit too independent, maybe. Although I suppose it depends on the cat. ...Octopus? They're intelligent, I've read. Bit secretive. They can do that thing with the ink. Or is that squids? ...No, no, on second thought that's not quite suitable either...
[strap in, Chilton, apparently this is now a matter of Great Importance.]
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[Said Chilton, his attempt to mollify Rincewind by downplaying this matter of Great Importance. It occurred to the psychiatrist that his friend might get a little invested in the game -- often individuals who suffered from constant anxiety and, in Rincewind's case, paranoia for their own safety put strategic emphasis on the little things that they could control.
Like word association games.]
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[a touch hurried, like he can feel the clock ticking down on his window of opportunity. When the light-bulb finally goes off, it's with a snap of fingers and a look of triumph.]
- Ferret! There it is, that's it. Absolutely. They're clever, but they aren't the bastards that weasels are. Bit cute and fluffy, really. And they ferret things away - I mean of course, being ferrets - and their curiosity gets them into trouble but they're small and quick enough to usually get out of it again.
[Rincewind folds his arms smugly, looking exceedingly proud of himself to have ended the game on a proper note.]
Ferret.
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