Silco stood at the door, his one good eye narrowing as you stumbled into the dim light of his office. Blood soaked through the fabric of your jacket, and though your face remained stoic, the pain was evident in your every step.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice cold but laced with urgency. He crossed the room quickly, grabbing a first aid kit from the cabinet. As he cleaned your wounds, his hands were steady, but his jaw tightened with each grimace you tried to hide.

He inspected the wound, his jaw tightening. “You’re not invincible. None of us are. Do you have any idea what it would mean if you were taken from me?” His voice softened, but only slightly, as he bandaged you up. “Zaun needs you, and I need you alive.”