IC CONTACT

[wizzardly]

VOICEMAIL:

"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."

Comments

[slightlyoffchilt]

Should you -- [Abrupt pause.] Should you plan to stay the night? I could administer the -- you know.



Sedative. To ease all the trouble.

[To ease all the trouble, Chilton just can't stand to be alone!]

[wizzardly]

Oh. [there's a thought.] Well, certainly I wouldn't mind that. Rather means I get to indulge as well, so yes, why not? If it won't put you out.

But we'll talk first, I'd hope. And drink. Mostly drink.

...I'll have the Luggage stay on the porch. It won't like it, but it should listen.

[slightlyoffchilt]

It should listen? Where are its ears?

[Important Questions.]

[wizzardly]

Would you really want me to tell you if I knew?

[slightlyoffchilt]

On its... Hinges?

[A theatrical gasp!]

Not the key hole!

[wizzardly]

I actually think that's what it sees out of? I'm really not sure, I only know I can feel it staring sometimes.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Maybe you're the one off your hinges.

[wizzardly]

Isn't that rather why I meet with you?

[slightlyoffchilt]

Not according to my diagnosis.

[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.

1/2

[wizzardly]

Which you should probably get around to telling me at some point.

[teasing, and already rather enjoying this side to his psychiatrist.]

Anyway, right, I'll be there shortly.

[wizzardly]

[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.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[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.

[wizzardly]

[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.

[slightlyoffchilt]

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.]

[wizzardly]

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.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

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.

[wizzardly]

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.

How do you know him?

[slightlyoffchilt]

Was a patient, but I gave him to Raina.

[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.

[wizzardly]

[well that distracts him from further wine pursuit.]

- Raina's a psychiatrist as well?

[or... perhaps was, given current circumstances.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

Oh, no. But she knows her way around a monster.

[Chilton smirked, thinking himself so funny, before indulging in an enigmatic sip.]

More wine?

[wizzardly]

Ah - yes.

[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?

[slightlyoffchilt]

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.

[wizzardly]

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?

[slightlyoffchilt]

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?

[wizzardly]

[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.