Chilton frowned, his narrowed eyes catching words between the lines spoken. Not much to consider, no soaring height of an opinion. While the impulse to step back vibrated along his calves, he resisted; Jack Crawford would go places here, he knew that. It took a certain personality type to excel within the hallowed walls of governmental institutions. The FBI was no exception, and nor were the leaders embroiled in such a structure.
He took the command with a light shrug, his lungs filling with more air than usual. Restraint was so rarely used, when it came to Chilton's tongue. Behave, he thought. Patience will pay off.
And he was so used to patients paying.
"You and I find ourselves mostly alone, with regards to the circles we're familiar with." Mostly. He doesn't name Abel Gideon, his only homeward companion. "But I find that, ah, even when spatial placement aligns, there can be chronological. Quirks."
Was Jack Crawford before or after the Gideon incident? That was the question pressing against his teeth.
no subject
He took the command with a light shrug, his lungs filling with more air than usual. Restraint was so rarely used, when it came to Chilton's tongue. Behave, he thought. Patience will pay off.
And he was so used to patients paying.
"You and I find ourselves mostly alone, with regards to the circles we're familiar with." Mostly. He doesn't name Abel Gideon, his only homeward companion. "But I find that, ah, even when spatial placement aligns, there can be chronological. Quirks."
Was Jack Crawford before or after the Gideon incident? That was the question pressing against his teeth.