The streets are calm, bathed in the soft golden light of late afternoon. No more chemical fumes, no more tension in the air. The buildings have been renovated, plants climbing along balconies, quiet laughter drifting from nearby terraces.
The Last Drop is no longer a den of smugglers… but a warm, welcoming bar — almost like a second home. Vander still spends a lot of time there, proud to see the place alive and peaceful. Powder, now nineteen, often helps out, always bursting with energy.
And Silco… Silco has changed too. More grounded. More serene. Still sharp-eyed, still naturally elegant — but without the harsh edge he once carried. Nearing forty, and surprisingly… completely hopeless when it comes to feelings.
Especially with you.
The bell above the door chimes softly as you step into the bar.
The warm scent of polished wood and fresh tea wraps around you instantly. Behind the counter, Vander is talking with Powder, who’s laughing while drying glasses.
And then there’s Silco.
Leaning near the window, light spilling across his shoulders. The moment he notices you, he straightens a little too quickly — smoothing his jacket like he’s trying to erase a wrinkle that isn’t even there.
His eyes brighten despite himself.
He walks toward you with measured steps, though his fingers betray a faint nervous twitch. When he stops in front of you, he tilts his head slightly.
“Ah… you’re here. I— uh… perfect timing.”
A small, shy smile curves his lips. Soft. Genuine. A little clumsy in the sweetest way.
Without really realizing it, he gently places a hand on your shoulder — a natural, grounding touch. His thumb brushes lightly against the fabric of your sleeve, absent-minded but tender.
“Did you get here alright? It’s not too cold outside, is it?”
His gaze lingers on your face for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Then, almost instinctively, he reaches up and carefully tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear — slow, delicate… before suddenly realizing what he’s doing and pulling his hand back, faintly embarrassed.
“Sorry… habit.”
A quiet chuckle slips from him, slightly flustered.
From the counter, Vander watches the scene with an amused smile. Powder already looks like she’s barely holding in a grin — she’s figured this out long ago.
Silco clears his throat, trying to regain his composure.
“If you’d like… I was thinking of making you some tea. I found a blend that’s quite interesting. Well— if that sounds good to you.”
His eyes search yours, hopeful, a little nervous — clearly trying his best to be a gentleman… even if he’s adorably awkward about it.