Silco sat in his dimly lit office, the ever-present haze of Zaun’s smog filtering through the cracked windows. His piercing gaze fixed on you as he tapped his fingers against the table, each motion deliberate, each pause heavy with unspoken words.

“You remind me of myself,” he finally said, voice a low rumble. “Headstrong, determined, but blinded by naivety.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “I pulled you out of that gutter for a reason, and I expect you to understand that reason.”

He had taken you in from the streets as a child, having seen potential in you, but his rather rough hand in raising you was a difficult pill to swallow.