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[ The video clicks on to Freddie, frowning at the camera, still dressed for winter, black beanie hat perched on her head. Frown on her face, she gives the camera a small nod, trying not to show just how freaked out she is.

Because spoilers: Freddie's pretty freaked out. ]

I've just got two questions. [ for now, at least. ] One, what's this nonsense about super powers? And two... [ now her expression changes to something that's purely 'I can't believe this shit.' ] who knows anything about dogs?

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Well, now I'm not entirely sure I want to tell you. After all, I'm sure it's very traumatizing.

[ Neener neener neener ]

[He shoots her a look, his eyes narrowed. Surely she hasn't figured out that Chilton is in fact forced to see Doctor Sofen because his superiors think he's been traumatized? Surely Lounds is simply playing coy?

Nevertheless.]

I am excessively capable of processing trauma. As you well know. [A beat.] We can easily work together, Freddie.

Oh, I know we can. But the question of the hour is, how would it benefit me if I told you the tragic tale of what seems to be your future?

[ Let's be real, you should have expected this, Chilton. ]

[His snarls -- almost -- at the word tragic. But he had worked with Freddie Lounds before; who do you think leaked that Abel Gideon is the Chesapeake Ripper story, anyway? Chilton had manufactured the whole thing.

He did indeed expect some negotiation with Freddie Lounds.]

Do you know who is qualified to treat imPorts, Freddie? Do you know the singular psychiatrist who has, in fact, a repertoire of highly empowered, dubiously situated, fascinating patients?

[He'll play up this card, the theatrics tingling.]

Me. Only. Me.

[ She just gives the camera a raised eyebrow and a sort of 'bitch please' kind of look. ]

Well, then it's a good thing I don't plan on getting committed any time soon.

And if you don't commit to my whims, you'll never get any insider chance to interview any of those people.

Wouldn't that be breaching doctor-patient confidentiality?

[ A small chuckle, and then-- ] Still, I suppose ethics weren't your strongest suit. I'll give you what you want. But first, has anyone accused you of being the Chesapeake Ripper here, or do I need to explain that little detail as well?

[Starkly, boldly:]

What do you know about the Ripper, already? The only people who have accused anyone of being such are Gideon and myself -- and our fingers point to not Will Graham, nor Abel Gideon, nor me.

I know that you're not the Chesapeake Ripper. I also know that back home, someone set you up to take the fall for the actual Ripper. Considering your similar skill-sets, it makes sense...except you were never that good a surgeon, were you?

[ oh Freddie is ENJOYING this. ]

Excuse me?

[Because he doesn't know he was poised to play patsy. He doesn't know what happened to Abel Gideon, in his guest room. He doesn't know what's beyond descending down those stairs, in his own timeline. It was spoken so facetiously, a second ago, more a game of elimination (leaving the fourth of their party unturned).

And now he's glimpsed the horror.]

Someone? Someone set me up? Someone!? Is everyone blind! I can't believe that -- surely they know? Surely they know it was Hannibal? Hannibal set me up! Surely -- [He had sought to reduce himself as a target, even when courting Hannibal's attention, and evidently it was all for naught. Chilton doesn't know how Hannibal did it, or what precisely manifested; but he had just left Jack Crawford office, pleading for protection. He knew Hannibal would coil around his throat, he knew the moment that bedeviled wink was shot his way. But Chilton had assumed a menu of death, not degradation.

Now he needed to know what was likely to happen. Lounds was prone to misinformation -- a fact that Chilton knew, even if he held a soft spot for her. But he needed someone with an emphasis on insight.]

I should -- I should speak with Will Graham.

Edited 2014-06-07 15:34 (UTC)

[ And Freddie just smiles, kind of enjoying Chilton's panic. But he knows it's Hannibal. That's reassuring--because Freddie knows that it's (at least partly) Hannibal as well. So now she has a confidante.

An extremely flustered confidante.

The question of why the hell he'd speak with Will Graham played on her mind--but she had one more bullet in her magazine, and it was time to use it. ]

There are more things to worry about than Will Graham. Back home, you're in the hospital. Somehow you got shot.

[ Because even if Freddie doesn't know the full details of what happened, it's easy to sit outside the hospital, to sneak inside the hospital, to get the pictures and information she needs. ]

[Guns -- how unlike Hannibal. No, any bullet that struck him wouldn't be from him, which indicated that Chilton's steadfast surelys bought him nothing. If he was shot, it meant he had been hunted -- and by the FBI. It very well could have been Crawford's own gun.

Chilton had worked the first Ripper case.

He looked away, the hand on his cane outside the video screen. Freddie wouldn't have seen the white knuckles tense around a silver handle.]

Freddie. Am. I. Being. Detained. At Baltimore State?

[Because the Chief of Staff incarcerated in his own mental hospital? It nauseated him. Every draconian whimsy he had enforced, every measured dehumanization, every dignity stripped from his patients would now drown him. He could be subject to his own cruelty.]

No.

[ HOW'S THAT FOR REASSURING? However, she's still got that dumb little "I know something I'm not telling you" smirk on her face. ]

You're in the hospital. You got shot in the cheek. Somehow.

[Medical hospital. But alive. Not Baltimore State.

Yet.

He knows Freddie wants him to inquire; so he abstained. He'd give her just as much as she gave him, and she would only receive halfway useless tidbits in return for her own halfway useless tidbits. Chilton was a woeful surgeon, a capable but unethical psychiatrist, and an excellent businessman.

Checks and balances. What Freddie wouldn't say he could glean more accurately from Will's perspective, through the sheer power of magical empathy.]

Lucky break.

[And he meant it. Shot, but alive. Hopefully not paralyzed, hopefully not comatose. But whatever the cost, it would save him months from his own hospital. He wasn't about to be the inverse Matthew Brown.]

That'll be all, Freddie.

Glad I could help.

[ Though there is a definite small tone of 'neener neener neener' in her voice. ]

I guess I'll see you around, in that case.

[ Excessively sure is a word. ]

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