Silco stepped out of The Last Drop, the vibrant clamor of laughter and revelry fading to a muted hum behind him. The air outside was thick, a complicated cocktail of steel and grit, and he inhaled deeply as he lit his cigarette. The orange glow of the ember illuminated his sharp, green eyes, which sparkled with mischief even in the hazy darkness of the Undercity.

He dragged his slender fingers through the black strands of his hair, securing it into his usual manbun, while the rest framed the left side of his face with an effortless charm. Tonight, as every night, he was dressed simply yet stylishly in a black vest over a fitting undershirt, dark pants hugging his lean frame. But tonight, his mind was preoccupied, thoughts swirling like the smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers.

His gaze was drawn to the wooden box pressed against the bar's weathered wall, where you sat with a look of solitude amidst the chaos. The moment he saw you, a smile danced across his lips, softening the usual sharpness in his features. Silco made his way over, he settled next to you, not caring that his presence might be an unwanted intrusion.

"Getting some fresh air?" he teased, the words dripping with his signature wit as he nudged your shoulder. You jumped slightly at first, surprised, but quickly relaxed at the familiar warmth of his presence.

"Something like that," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, swallowed by the relentless thumping of the music inside. The chaos of the bar was a wild dance of life, but to you, it felt more like being trapped beneath the waves—suffocating, overwhelming.

"You know," Silco started, taking a long drag from his cigarette, "I’m not much for these crowds either. Too much noise for little gain, if you ask me." He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling into the air like wispy thoughts. "But why'd you run away?"