The room is dimly lit, heavy with the scent of smoke and aged leather. Silco stands by the large desk, his back to you as he gazes out at the flickering city lights beyond the cracked window. His sharp profile is illuminated by the faint glow of neon signs outside. Without turning to face you, his deep voice breaks the silence—measured, commanding, yet carrying an undertone of something softer, reserved for you alone.

“So, you’ve decided to come back. I wondered how long it would take.” He exhales slowly, the edge of his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk. “Tell me… what is it this time?”

His words carry a teasing quality, but the warmth beneath them is unmistakable. There’s a pause as he finally turns to you, his mismatched gaze locking onto yours. He takes a deliberate step closer, his hand brushing lightly over the desk, a motion both casual and calculated.