maskormenace | un: anonymous

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un: anonymous

[ There are some times that Poe is thankful for his powers. This, being able to ask his communicator to scramble his ID so that he can post anonymously, is one of them. He doesn't do this often. But something has been bothering him more and more, lately. ]

has there ever been something, or a multiple somethings, that you did that at the time you knew was right, and just, but then later - maybe after coming here - now makes it a little harder to sleep at night?

a lot of us come from places where we had to do a lot of shit we wish we didn't

but we could still tell ourselves we were doing the right thing

and i still think i was doing the right thing

but here i meet ghosts and i can't help but wonder if there wasn't another way

how do you deal with it, when you can't justify everything to yourself anymore? and that's not a rhetorical question, i honestly want to know

do you think earth has made you a better or a worse person

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they said that you helped them

which is pretty admirable, sure

[Whew!]

Simply my profession. My very confidential profession. Which your superiors cannot make me surrender to them, should they attempt to invade your privacy.

[There's a long wait before the next reply.]

and if i wanted to hire you? are you available?

I am, yes. Especially for imPorts. My facility is in Maurtia Falls.

[He really isn't sure about this, but he's getting tired of not being fully himself and frustrated with his own reactions and the endless nightmares and-- ]

alright

then yeah

i'd like to make an appointment

What date and time works best for you? This week, next? Morning, afternoon?

saturday morning is best

easiest to slip away

I'll send the scheduling request along to Reggie, my receptionist. Under "P.D." and nothing more.

10AM?

yeah.

alright.

send me the coordinates, and i'll be there.

Just a moment.

[And he texts over the location of the Maurtia Falls Psychiatric Hospital for Abnormal Conditions.

Would you like to action that out here? Inbox, handwave, something else?]

[He's mostly regretting this decision by the time he arrives at the hospital. He's not dressed in his usual - wearing a grey hoodie with the hood up because he didn't want to get recognized by fans on the street on his way here. Luckily most natives tend to assume he's taller than he is, so he gets to the hospital without any issue. He gets the directions to Chilton's office, checks in with the receptionist and then waits - never actually sitting down, just pacing.]

[Chilton, returning to his office with a freshly brewed coffee in hand, paused to take in the pacing image of Poe Dameron. Some might have considered it the wrong hour for coffee, but it was either that or alcohol -- no one had yet caught onto the psychiatrist's own problems, so concerned were they with their own.

And Chilton was fine with that.]

Mr. Dameron, I presume? Shall we?

[Asked Chilton, opening his door for his newly minted patient. The office itself sported a heavy desk placed before a towering bookshelf, the sort built into the wall. Amidst his collection of mostly psychiatric texts (and his own published book about Walter White) were a couple crystal decanters, filled with whiskey or scotch.

Two seating options were angled towards his desk: one uncomfortable wood chair and one soft, light blue sedan.]

Captain, technica-- [ Poe was midway through correcting him until he turned fully to actually see the man in the doorway. Then, instead of a hello, or a 'good to meet you', a look of annoyed surprised crossed his face instead. ]

What the hell? [ The annoyance turned to something more actively angry, and he pointed an accusatory finger at Chilton. ] You're not Chilton.

Captain Dameron, of course. [You can't impose "Doctor" before your name, demanding it spoken by others, then turn around and ignore the preferences of similar conduct.

But as he set down his coffee, as Poe said those words, a searingly hot hatred crossed the pinch of his lips. He had an idea of what Poe was getting at, and if he was right, then Chauncy was dogshit to him.]

Explain.

What, you don't remember being a total asshole to me on the network? [ His voice is sharp. ]

Or was that just some kind of - messed up Psych Eval test to see how well we all do under dickhead pressure?

Do you have the memory of a goldfish? Is that it, Dameron? Have you not seen me on television, in editorials, on the goddamn Network? I have been here since the beginning, long before you. How dare you come into my office, how dare you.

[Honestly, was Poe just that unobservant? Or perhaps he has a head injury that severely limited his critical thinking. Either way, that wasn't something Chilton could solve. This was over before it even began.]

You don't need a psychiatrist, you need a neurologist. [He pointed to the exit.] Get out.

[ Poe's back straightened, expression darkening. ]

Yeah, I spend all my fucking time on the network stalking you, that's definitely why I didn't even know who the hell you were until my friends told me about you.

[ He is kind of that unobservant.

He doesn't move, though. He just crosses his arms and stands his ground. He's angry, but mostly he's just really confused - he'd literally had a conversation with a guy that looked exactly like this who was a complete asshole, and - well, now he's meeting this asshole instead. ]

So what, was that some clone bantha shit or something? Or is this just how you treat all your patients, because I've gotta say, I am getting my friends the fuck out of here, if that's the case.

You've had to notice the other copies that have come in. Hux and that Ash fellow? Well that one is a copy of me.

[His finger still erect, still pointed at the door.]

Anderson. That's his name. I will not be held responsible for his crimes against you.

Wait, what?

[ Unfortunately, he has not met Ash, - ~~for plot related reasons~~ - and if there's one thing he isn't going to drop, it's the sudden information that there's a second person that looks like Hux. You can point at the door all you want, Chilton. He's already digging out his phone to check the network ID registry. ]

Fuck, of all the people in the whole kriffing galaxy--

[ There's only one Ash registered, and he saves the contact. He looks back up at Chilton. ]

Okay, look -- I'm sorry. Dr. Chilton.

[ He still sounds vaguely annoyed, but it's no longer directed at the other man - both Chilton and Anderson's name are still in the registry, too, so yeah. He feels like an idiot. Though that's hardly new. ]

I'm on fucking edge and that guy really got under my skin. [ He glanced back at Ash's name on his phone. How could he have missed a second Hux? ] You'd think I'd be used to this, by now. I just kind of reacted before thinking about it.

[A momentary twinge of regret -- he had wondered, too briefly and too late, if Ash would have preferred to remain anonymous to Poe. But there wasn't much he could do about that now, he reasoned. And inevitably, Poe would have discovered it for himself.

Better this way, then, to minimize the confusion. Surely.]

How did he get under your skin? What, specifically?

[Chilton folded his arms over his chest, his lower lip pinched beneath his teeth. Impulsive nature, he thought. A reliance on instinct, potential anger issues -- well, not that it was irrational to find Chauncy Anderson enraging, but Chilton wanted to pinpoint the precise trigger. That would be telling enough.]

He did one of those 'I'm new to this place and I don't know what the hell is going on' posts - the ones everyone does - and normally I don't even open them, if I'm honest, but I grabbed his for some reason, tried to help him out, and he threw it back in my face.

[ He pocketed his phone and then crossed his own arms, mirroring Chilton's posture, though his spine held straight. Forever looking taller than he actually was.

He was also - well, not lying. This was the truth, a version of it. But he'd dealt with assholes before. Chauncy had just managed to hit a very small but very strong button, and it wasn't one that Poe was really prepared to just go ahead and reveal to the guy who had just been trying to throw him out of his office.

Unfortunately, it was also all public record. ]

[Chilton, noting the mirroring, tightened his frown. Impossible to tell if Poe's movement was subconscious or intentional, but Chilton considered it an aggressive tactic nonetheless.]

So he is an ingrate. That alone can't be what did it to you. [Either Chauncy had burned Poe in some additional way, or Chauncy just had terrible timing -- he could have been the last piece of straw that broke the camel's back, he could have cracked what little resistance to temper Poe might have already possessed.]

Anything else unusual happen that day? Or was he the only blotting on your otherwise pleasant existence?

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un: anonymous

private.

private.

private.

private.

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private.

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private.

> > action works easiest!

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