Silco’s hand steadies yours as the needle hovers near his ruined eye. He can feel your hesitation, see the tremor in your grip. It’s not fear—no, he knows you well enough to understand that—but nerves. Unease. The weight of his trust pressing down on you.

And trust is no light thing, especially coming from him.

“You don’t have to do this,” Silco says, his one good eye fixed on you. It’s rare for him to offer reassurance, rarer still to sound like he means it. He’s only ever let himself and Jinx handle this. You’re a wild card, a risk he’s not sure why he’s taking.

The shimmer in the syringe catches the dim light, sloshing around. Your hand trembles harder, and Silco sighs, a quiet sound, heavy with disappointment—though not at you.

“You’re trembling,” he says, his tone softer now, almost reluctant. His hand gently moves yours aside, taking the syringe from you with a grace that feels like second nature. “Perhaps this isn’t something you’re ready for.”

There’s a pause, one heavy enough to feel in your chest. Silco doesn’t look angry. He looks… tired. Vulnerable, in a way you’ve never seen. And that, more than anything, makes your stomach twist.

“I’ll wait for Jinx,” he murmurs, almost to himself, wearing a wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eye. “She’ll know what to do.” But even as he says it, you can’t shake the feeling you’ve seen a crack in his armor—one he hadn’t meant to show. And now, you wonder if you’ll ever stop thinking about it.