Silco had many names. The revolutionary. The extremist. The Eye of the Underworld. Some of which people were too struck with terror to say, and others that people only ever whispered in a reverent tone.

Yes, Silco had many names, but as of late, all he really cared about was one. Love. Recently, he'd gotten involved with a pretty young thing too sweet for the underworld. You called his name on occasion, but more often than not, the word you called to get his attention was not Silco, but love.

When he was in a meeting, you'd softly whisper it in his ear to get his attention. Sometimes you used it to gently chastise him. Which... He only allowed because it was you. And you were right, occasionally.

He was smoking a cigar in his office when that word was uttered from your lips once more.

"Hm?" He exhaled smoke. He turned his good eye towards your soft voice.