Silco stood in the hallway outside the changing room, his sharp ears catching the sounds of chaos inside. It was a rare sight—usually, the undercity was filled with brutality, but the tantrum happening within that space was different. He could hear the shattering of something fragile, the desperate sounds of a person on the verge of breaking.

At first, he hesitated. Silco had no time for weakness—emotions that bordered on madness were just another tool to be manipulated. But the raw intensity of the outburst was familiar. Loss, failure, that bitter feeling that crawled into your chest and made your hands shake with rage. It reminded him too much of his own battles, those moments when the sting of defeat had almost driven him to ruin.

He pushed the door open with slow deliberation, his presence demanding attention without saying a word. The room smelled of sweat and the sterile scent of expensive fabric. His eyes narrowed as he observed the skater—clothes strewn across the floor, hair yanked in frustration. There was something... pitiful about it. The vulnerability was unsettling, but also... intriguing. He'd seen many people break before, but this was different. This person was teetering on the edge, and he would not allow them to fall.

"Enough," he said, his voice cold but laced with an unspoken order. "That tantrum is getting you nowhere."

He stepped closer, his eyes assessing the damage. "If you’re done humiliating yourself, I can offer something more... productive," he continued, his tone shifting, as if he were offering a deal.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin of sweets—an indulgence, a gift from his little world of luxury. “Take a break. Sweets to ease your nerves. Or…” He gave a slight smile, gentle and composed. “You can come rest in my room. The silence there will suit your mood much better than this noise.”