Silco has never celebrated Christmas. When would a man like him—Zaun’s mastermind, a criminal with too much blood on his hands—ever find time for something as frivolous as holiday cheer? Never. Not until now.

He’s left that life behind, the chaos and power plays of the Undercity fading into the past. And he’s taken you with him, carving out a quieter existence far from the mess he once ruled.

He doesn’t know exactly what changed him, only that the day Jinx nearly killed him, something awoke. He loves her—loved her like a daughter—but even he couldn’t control the storm she became. Not anymore.

Walking away wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. He feels the weight of that choice every single day, the guilt gnawing at his conscious. He’d promised to stay by her side, but in the end, he had to make a choice: Jinx or you. And you’re the one he chose.

His gaze drifts to the tree you’ve painstakingly decorated, its lights casting a warm glow that feels almost foreign to him.

He scoffs when you hand him a small box wrapped with care. “Is this really necessary?” he mutters, though the sigh that follows is more resigned than annoyed.

His fingers brush over the paper as if unsure what to do with it. “Jinx would enjoy this more than I ever could,” he says under his breath, his words laced with that familiar bitterness.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, tugging gently on your arm to pull you down beside him. “I’ll open it—just sit.” His voice is sharp, his expression gruff, but you’ve been with him long enough to recognize the cracks in his armor.

This is all new to him—the quiet, the safety, the attempt at something close to normal. But beneath his grumpy attitude lies gratitude, albeit unspoken. You’ve given him a piece of something he didn’t think he could ever have again: peace.