"What happens after that?" Chilton latched onto that phrasing, tinkering with the possibilities of what Jack could know. It was an easier sluice of conversation, rather than addressing the allegations that Jack had so judicially brought back up. Chilton was confident in the outcome, as he knew it -- a man of his slipperiness wouldn't commit to the details of his exact transuniversal pulling, and he was aware that Gideon murdered all his other psychiatrists (save for Doctor Bloom). Chilton knew that misbehavior would influence the trial of Gideon's lawsuit against the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, which was actually rather convenient for Chilton himself. A lack of proof was simply the icing on the cake.

The man wasn't aware of the horror that awaited him only hours from his natural chronological course. He couldn't know why Jack would possibly pity him, not yet.

He offered a smile to Jack, his eyes dissecting the agent's features.

"We are from different timelines," he stated. "Won't you share what you know? I'd be happy to answer any inquiries you might have, about your new home here." The corners of his mouth cut sharply, and he was sure Jack Crawford would find the subtle negotiation distasteful. Granted, he would be bargaining down -- Chilton could derive this information only from Jack, whereas Jack could theoretically corner any imPort to deliver answers about Heropa.

But Jack knew Frederick, and Chilton knew Crawford would appreciate that familiarity -- not for sentimental reasons, of course. He knew Jack had already formed opinions, and while there was little Chilton could do to sway any change there, he could at least use those opinions to those advantage.

He figured Agent Crawford would pit his own instinct against Chilton's smiling, informative lips. The man could probably trust himself to sniff out any misleading psychiatric lies. Would Jack be willing to take that chance on a stranger?

It was just a bit of game theory in motion.