[As promised, it's not too long after their conversion that the Sin makes himself known. The drawl of his boots drums lazily down the steps connecting the living space from the bar in question. The rhythm of them, shaking the floorboards like an announcement all in itself.]
[The building's wiring still isn't perfect and as he slinks down the steps, the lights hung haphazardly over the bar quiver, dropping the place into a low dim. It's fitting, in a way. Men like them - they don't typically meet in the brightness of day.]
Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. [Greed hums, his body slumped over in its usual, carefree slouch. The mask latched to one of his beltloops sways while he walks. It teeters one way, then the other; its swing, matched beat for beat by the lick of his tail. This conversation hasn't been a long one coming, but it was only a matter of time. Silco had questions, he had answers. And no matter what the other man may believe, when it comes to a deal?]
[Ah, is he truly a creature of his word.]
[The former homunculus presses the toe of his boot against a makeshift side door fastened behind the bar, pushing it open with a groan of steel and angry wood.] Still working on getting some supplies, but - [He slips his hand under the lip of the counter, knuckling two, clean (as clean as they're going to get at any rate) glasses between his fingers.] - figured something is better than nothing, don't you?
[With a tip of his head, he gives Silco a look under the edge of his sunglasses before turning back to the lines of liquor on the shelf behind him. And it's there, that he passes by the usual suspects: the half-emptied bottles of vodka, the fastened handle of cracked-open gin, the blue concoction that is, by every means, questionable.]
[However, he does find what he's looking for eventually. And with his smile reflecting in both the pieces of the mirror and bottles alike, the Sin wraps his finger around the neck of one in particular. A scotch, still capped with a glob of red, dripped wax.] You a scotch man, Silco? [He asks, his claw making quick work of the seal.]
[Silco is a bit surprised, pleasantly so, by the offer. After everything he's dealt with since his arrival - including eating rats and surviving underground for weeks - being here feels like a bit of luxury. Naturally, his standards are based on Zaun, so someone else might not feel the same. But there are strong walls surrounding them, no enemies at their throats, and a drink on offer.
He can't complain.]
I won't say no.
[His tastes have refined, over the years. He used to drink any swill they had available, just like every Zaunite - though it's true Silco always had a bit of a preference for things like wine, a touch classier than the bottom-of-the-barrel liquor that was all they often had. But then he had power, and money, and acquired a taste for nicer things. Clothes, liquor, cigars. All part of the image, of course, but he did genuinely enjoy them.
A flick of his cigarette - nearly gone, by now - and a thin smile.]
You've been an excellent host. You found all of these things yourself? Scavenged across the city?
[Silco is used to having to ease into these sorts of conversations, manipulate the flow of things carefully so he can get the information he wants. He knows that Greed has essentially offered it freely, but he's too used to there always being a catch - he can't quite believe that there isn't one, this time.
Well, besides having to answer questions in return. Which he actually doesn't mind. What point is there in keeping secrets, here? Anything dangerous back home is useless now.]
You're an interesting man. Or - is that what you are?
[Sleephatten doesn't afford many luxuries, but the few he's found? He's gladly taken. The leftovers of people in high rises who thought, more than likely, that nothing in the world could ever catch up to them. Unfortunately, the pickings are still slim at best; a few stokes of good luck during some of his many, many, wanderings through what little remained.]
[Which is why he's saved the bottle for an occasion. A right moment for old, familiar comforts.]
Didn't think so. [Greed hooks his claw under the wax shell, flipping it off the top of the bottle with a flick of his wrist. It disappears onto the floor, skipping and tumbling down a gap in the boards.] Wouldn't say that. I already told you. Can't really call myself Greed if I don't take care of my own now, could I? [He turns to set both glasses side by side on the bar top, and a short laugh curdles up his throat in a spin of soot.] No, not everything. I can't take all the credit. Considering the circumstances, people are lot more willing to make a deal. [A deal for what, though, he doesn't say.]
[The former homunculus lifts the bottle to his mouth to sink his teeth into the cork. And with a jerk of his head, he tears it open; the harsh smell of high-proof, burning pleasant in his nose. He pulls the stopper out of his jaws a moment later, leaving it to sit on the bar like a still pin.] Could say the same about yourself. [With two of his fingers wrapped around the base of the neck, he tips the bottle over. Glug for glug, he fills their cups. A healthy portion for a, no doubt, intriguing conversation.]
[Greed pushes one of the glasses over to Silco.] Not quite. I'm a guy, if that's what you mean. But I don't think that's your question, is it. [With a stretch of his hand, he circles his drink, blatantly showing off his tattoo.] I'm a homunculus. Something artificial. I wasn't born like humans are. [He plucks up his glass and twirls it once, giving the inside a lick of rich, thin amber.]
[Then, he shoots it back; its contents, its burn, tumbling down his throat to the tune of warmed coals doused at the end of a long, long night.]
[Once he's finished, barely half his pour remains.] My turn. This world of yours - sounds like things weren't exactly fair, were they? [A common story, and not entirely a ground-breaking question. Yet, from the little he's seen from Jinx: there was something about it that felt the same. That stunk of the same kind of bullshit that had been writhing under the surface of Amestris's military might.]
[Because the worlds may be endless, they may be strange, but governments anywhere. Ah, they've always got something else bubbling beneath them, don't they?]
[Silco's eyes track Greed's tattoo, putting together a few puzzle pieces. Not human - that much is no surprise, though Silco supposes perhaps he's not human anymore either. Perhaps none of them are, since they arrived here. But being that from the beginning, being - what, created instead of born?
An interesting existence, certainly.
He takes a sip of the whiskey, slow, savoring the burn of it. Both because he hasn't had a drink in a long time, and because he'd rather keep his wits about him. Silco's not a lightweight, not with how he's lived his life, but he's also not exactly a large man. He knows his limits, and he has no intention of getting anywhere close to them.]
Is any world fair? [A rhetorical question, said with a twist of his lips that's almost a smile. He does intend to answer properly, though.] Of course they weren't. Zaun was nothing but a place to exploit, a place to dispose of things that the polished folk of Piltover didn't want to see. So long as it was down in the dark, they could pretend they were growing rich off nothing in particular - not the labor of people, choking in the mines, not lives barely scratched out of the bedrock. And when they were bored, the brave ones could come down for a thrill.
[His voice is relaxed. This is an old story to him, nothing to get heated about. The fire has never really dimmed, not even here - Silco would still fight for Zaun, if he could. But he keeps it carefully banked, cool and composed.]
I wanted to change that. I nearly succeeded, too. [And that's a bitter pill.
A pause, as he sets the topic aside, as near to his heart as it is. Silco has too many questions to dwell on old wounds.]
[And he takes in every word of it. The story isn't the same, not quite. But then again, Amestris had been built on a different kind of exploitation. The kind that came with a parade of tanks, an arsenal of artillery, a military march, and to the victor? Went the spoils, spoils, spoils.]
[Too bad it was all an elaborate game the people never knew they were playing until it was far, too late.]
[Greed slips away from the bar, walking his heels back until the dip of his spine finds the prep station behind him. And it's there, that he settles. A black cat by every definition, coiling up comfortably in its nest of observation.] But you didn't. [He answers, and there's not a single drop of snideness to his voice. The tone of it, more matter of fact.] I would say I'm sorry, but something tells me a man like yourself wouldn't want it. [He reaches out to his side while he talks, setting his glass close to his hip.] Do you regret it? Not being able to see what - Zaun, right? [The former homunculus fishes into his vest to pull out a barely touched cigarette.] Whatever it could have been?
[Mindlessly, he nudges open the lantern hanging from his horns, pressing the end of the cigarette into the lit candle inside. He rotates it three times for good measure; the smile on his lips, digging deep into his cheek.] Cut right to the chase, don't you. [Clap, and he slaps the lantern shut.] Good. No reason to hold anything back. Not with me, Silco.
[The end of his cigarette flakes away, black and tarry, and the Sin examines it a moment or two before sliding it between the points of his teeth.] I'm his greed. Good, ol'Daddy sir. [An exhale of smoke cuts through his jaw, billowing out like a passing thunderhead.] He wanted to remove us to become the perfect being. And in the process, we were supposed to follow his orders to bring about the Promised Day.
[Cool and collected as he is, there's no hiding the concept in his voice. The venom, spitting between the forks of his tongue like an adder that has every means of making someone think twice. Greed inhales, and the cherry at the end of his smoke drops away to ash.] I left them all 100 years ago. Couldn't really get everything I wanted if I worked under someone else's rules now, could I?
[The former homunculus peels himself from the backside of the bar with a push of his hand and as he reaches forward, he pulls a pack out of his vest. It's bent in all the wrong places, half its lid is missing, but there are cigarettes in there. Not many, but enough.]
[And what can he say? He's feeling a little giving.]
[Greed pushes one out of the box, flipping it over his fingers.] Didn't stop them from finding me, eventually. But that's a story for another time. [He sucks in low, bringing the spare smoke with him. And with one, long inhale, he coaxes the second cigarette flaringly to life; its play of smoke, tethering loose between his knuckles.]
[He hands it off to Silco once he's done and satisfied.] See, I am Greed. The living embodiment of it. And call it whatever you want, but I've always been a fan of the underdog. [He's a bit closer now, drinking Silco in through the lenses of his shades.] I don't expect you to believe me. It'd be stupid for you to. But I hope that, someday, you'll find that I'm a bit different than the rest. As I see it, humans have a lot more potential than most give 'em credit for. [Another wad of ash drops off his smoke to run a line across the bar.]
And the mortal lot? They'll always find a way to surprise ya.
[Silco takes the cigarette with a careful incline of his head, a subtle thank you. Despite his name, Silco has found Greed to be quite generous - but then, what did he say before? Something about taking care of what's his. Another question to add to the pile.
It's not difficult to believe that Greed is what he says he is. This place seems to collect people with remarkable origins, strange stories. Silco wouldn't have considered himself among them - no eldritch beginnings, no immense powers left behind. Never anything but himself, his goals, his own determination.
But he did make himself into something. So perhaps he's not so far outside the norm, here.
What Silco doesn't believe, at least not easily, is that Greed is any different from any human. Out for what he can get, power or money or pleasure, as base as anyone. But that's all right. It's what Silco's comfortable with, after all. He knows how to use those sorts of things, he knows what to expect.]
So someone decided to remove their vices, turn them into people, and use them for some sort of nonsensical scheme. No wonder you left. [And Silco can certainly respect that choice - walking away, becoming something entirely your own.] What does it mean to be Greed? A collector of things, of people? Of power?
[He watches Greed across the bar, one thin-fingered hand curled around the glass of scotch, the other holding his cigarette. On the surface, entirely at ease, but Silco is always just a bit tense in situations like this. Ready to run or fight, if he must. It's not personal.]
Yes. [An abrupt, definitive answer. Just a shade of bitterness, there and then gone.] I regret not being able to see it - not being able to finish the job. I spent my life fighting for Zaun, turned myself into a monster for it. [The briefest flash of a thin smile.] And I was excellent at it. It would have been sweet, to usher my home into a new era.
[He taps the ash off the end of the cigarette, dismissing that moment of regret, of desire for a different path.] But I always knew that I could die at any time. That's what happens when you become the one with all the power - everyone wants it. Any moment of weakness might be the end. I didn't expect the one I got, but I knew it was likely coming.
[Behind the bar proper, the former homunculus lazily laces his ankles, nudging part of his hip under the lip of the counter. He doesn't know Silco, not by a long shot, but that doesn't change his demeanor. The laxness of it, the ease, as if they've been doing this whole song and dance not for a couple of minutes, but for years. And while the world outside may be ruins, here?]
[It's all too easy to fall back into the usual status quo.]
[Greed inhales, and the filter of his cigarette shrinks under the press of his teeth; the tips of them, leaving behind faint, fine holes.] You've got most of it, except for the people part. [He scissors the butt between two of his claws, flicking a spec of hot ash onto the floor with his thumb.] I'm not a person, Silco. Not really. [A trail of smoke kisses his lips only spread and thin along the ceiling.] As for him and the rest, well. They should have known better. I got a bit of a rebellious streak, after all. It shouldn't have been that surprising.
[Ah, and there's the million-dollar question. One that he should have expected, that he always should expect, and as the Sin lowers his head, the grin on his face turns to a sliver; the look of it like a shark's sly smile, holding back a secret.]
[He levels his cigarette against the side of an ashtray nearby.] Sorry, you've got that part wrong, chief. But that's just it, isn't it? Humans always think greed's just for money and power - [The words trail off his tongue, sweet and faint with smoke. It isn't the first time he's had to explain it. Mortals had a habit of thinking in absolutes; he can't entirely blame them.] - but everyone wants something they can't have. Let's put it this way. [He lifts his finger out of the tray, turning it over once to catch a glint of light off his claw.] You would do anything for Zaun, right? You wanted to protect your home, you wanted to protect the people in it. It's not that different.
The mortal lot tends to get too wrapped up in what's right, what's wrong. [His eyes shift behind his sunglasses. A sudden movement like an unknown something, wallowing in the depths.] What's good, what's bad. To me? It's all good. So, no. [He reaches behind him, curling his middle finger over the edge of his glass.]. It's not just money and power I want, Silco. Not by a long shot.
[He spreads the rest of his fingers one at a time, circling his drink in a cage of claws. Clp, clp, clp.] Money, women, men, sex, status, glory. I want everything you can possibly imagine. [Maybe, it's just the fact that the situation is his usual. Maybe, it's simply because he's comfortable. In any case, he manages to keep that fever of his dimmed to a low broil; the heat of his hand, merely turning the inside of the glass to a phantom's foggy touch.]
[The former homunculus curls up one half of his lip as he brings his drink close to his mouth again.] Gunna stop you right there. What? You think you're the first person who's been desperate enough to make a few, bad choices? [He leers forward, causing his sunglasses to drift a hair down his nose.] Don't be stupid. [With a tip of his head, the rest of the scotch tumbles slick down his throat. The Sin tosses the empty glass onto the bar top, letting it skate away on its own sweat.] Calling yourself a monster. You had to make a choice, right? Wouldn't make it anything more than that.
Course, I could be wrong. But something tells me if these people, the ones from Piltover, had made things fair from the beginning, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation, would we. [Over the rims of his shades, his eyes are points.] It doesn't matter, anyway. Who you were, what you've done - I don't really care. All that matters is what you truly want.
That sounds - [Silco considers his words, decides on being more or less truthful.] - tiring. Wanting that much.
[He does want things, of course. It's true that he would have done nearly anything he could to free Zaun, he wanted it that badly. And for so long, too, most of his life. What few things Silco wanted, he burned for.
But it was few. In the end, Zaun and Jinx were the only two things that really mattered to him. Power, money - they were certainly nice to have, and he didn't hesitate to take advantage of their benefits. But they were a side effect of the brutal climb to a position where he could secure Zaun's freedom. They were leverage, a weapon, not something he wanted solely for its own sake.
And people, pleasure, sex - it isn't as if Silco didn't have the opportunity. Plenty of people wanted things from him and would have been happy to trade a night or two for it, no matter how off-putting his scars might be. But there was too much bound up in it - vulnerability, the balance of power, the chance of betrayal. He rarely felt enough desire to risk it, and even then, only when he was absolutely certain of the terms of the transaction.
It's who Greed is, he understands. But to Silco, simply that sort of existence seems - tiring.]
What is it about you, then, that makes you not a person? You look like one to me. And wanting things seems quite fundamental to being a person.
[He tilts his glass, letting the liquid swirl. Silco is watching Greed, assessing him, as he has been from the beginning. He's inclined to like the man - a rare thing, for Silco, but he knows what Greed has done for Jinx.
Still, that doesn't mean anything if he decides Greed might be a threat.]
I don't need absolution, or to be told I was simply a man making choices. [His eyes are sharp, but his voice is even.] I was, and I made choices that I was perfectly aware would hurt people. Sometimes I made them because they would hurt people. I certainly wasn't desperate. [At least, not all the time. At the beginning, he was. But that was so long ago.] Zaun needed a monster, and I was very good at it.
But you're right. [A raise of his glass, acknowledging Greed, and he takes a sip.] It doesn't matter anymore. Zaun is out of my reach forever. What I want now, the only thing I want, is my daughter's safety.
[He doesn't mind saying it. There's no reason to lie. In fact, the more who know, the better - because Silco is perfectly willing to do anything it takes to protect Jinx, and it isn't as if she's a fainting damsel to be used against him. She's dangerous, just like her father.]
[A tick of movement tickles his face (a small arch of his eyebrow, a slight twitch at the upper part of his lip), and the Sin snorts a thin cough of smoke from his nose.] You think so, huh? Wouldn't know. It's what I am, and always will be. Nothing more to it. It's been over two hundred years, and I haven't gotten tired of it. [No, there will always be more he wants. More people, more power, more everything. Dying twice hasn't changed that.]
[Greed stretches his spine to press the side of his head into the collar of his vest.] Mn. That's a little more complicated. Let's save that for another time, hmn? We've just met, after all. And you might not like the answer. [Because there were a few things that set him apart besides the obvious. Creatures like him - they took a lot to make. He can't really tell a man (a man he's coming to appreciate, a man whose daughter is, by lack of any other way to put it, living under his roof) that what he's made of? Are a thousand or more damned souls, forever trapped in the pit of his chest.]
[It's not exactly a smooth icebreaker.]
[Thankfully, Silco does him the favor of changing the subject. It's clear he hasn't struck a nerve, not really, but the light scolding isn't lost on him. The former homunculus breathes through his smile, sending a speckle of ash flecking between his teeth.] Who said I was giving you absolution? You do remember who you're talking to, right? Don't get the wrong idea. [Greed crosses one of his legs over the other, closing the gap between himself and the bar that separates him and Silco.] I'm sure you did. A man like you doesn't get a name for himself by playing a diplomat. [He reaches close (too close to care, too close for any sort of comfort) to pick the dying butt of his cigarette out of the tray.] But let's get one thing clear. I'm not interested in hurting anyone unless I have to, friend. Some people just don't know when to quit. And coming for mine? Ah, well. I can't really have that, can I.
[It's not a threat, but a promise. When push comes to shove, and shove comes to a trade of blows, avarice will always get what's owed.]
[Greed levels his chest over the counter and with a single, long drag, he eats away the rest of his smoke; its paper, turning to ash in his hand.] No, it doesn't matter anymore. Sounds like you and I have another thing in common. [He's reading between the lines and making his own assumptions, but something tells him he's got part of it right. Neither him nor Silco have anywhere to go back to.]
[Dead men don't usually get to see how it ends, after all.]
[The former homunculus smears his butt in the tray, drawing out a new circle in soot.] Then, seems to me, we want the same thing. She asked me before, y'know. To make sure she didn't do anything stupid. [One of her lower points, most likely. Why she chose him, of all people, is anyone's guess. Maybe it had been the fact that he didn't care who or what she was, either.]
So, if it's all the same to you, why don't we cut right to the chase? [Greed bows his chin, letting his eyes flick up to watch Silco's face.] I don't plan on letting anything happen to her, and I'm not exactly a big fan of our friend running the joint. If that's fine with you, then consider the door open. Stay here, don't. Whatever you want, that's the deal. And in return?
[Mindlessly, he grinds his claws together to clean off any tobacco still clinging to his fingers.] You can work for me. Figure you're probably used to running things. I won't deny you that. Whatever you do here - that's up to you. [He cocks his wrist, pointing at the other man with a slow snap of his thumb.] Hell, you might be able to show me a thing or two. Not like we had all this back where I'm from.
It's your choice, though. If you decide you aren't interested, I won't take it personally. [The Sin slides his hand away from the bar and as his knuckles bounce across the surface, a couple of stray splinters poking from the counter begin to huff with smoke - his briefly stroke of heat, catching and snuffing them out as quickly as a gathering of soaked fuses.]
Don't have to answer me now, by the way. Not like I don't have the time. [He steps away, showing Silco part of his back.]
[He is used to running things. He's also used to people - the Pilties he did business with - treating him like their employee. So he isn't instantly offended by the phrasing of work for me, though he doesn't particularly like it either.
Silco was never a particularly good employee. When he worked in the mines, he was the sort to agitate the other workers, demand better conditions, which unsurprisingly escalated to encompass the entirety of the Undercity. He's always done better with no one to report to but himself, putting his plans in action, getting things done.
But he really can't help the fact that just looking around at this place, he can see a dozen things that ought to be done. Especially if Greed actually intends it to be the sort of bar people would patronize. And Silco, for all that he dislikes the idea of working for anyone, is also not the sort of person who can lay around doing nothing.]
I might be willing to work with you. It depends on what you want done. [Because if he's really going to give Silco the run of the place, well, then they won't have any problem at all.] I'll think about it.
[He studies Greed, his easy confidence, the things he's chosen not to say. Silco can't say he's not interested. But he's wary, as he is with most things. He nearly leaves it there - he has plenty more questions, but he supposes they can wait - but there's something lingering.]
Jinx told me what you did for her.
[He doesn't understand why, isn't certain that it wasn't for some reason he doesn't know about yet, certainly doesn't trust Greed.
But.
That's his daughter, the only person in any world who cares about him even a little, the only person in any world that he loves. Of course he's grateful for what Greed did. Of course he owes Greed, and knows that he does, even if he doesn't say it.]
Thank you.
[And he'll leave it at that. It's more than nearly anyone else would get, because it is entirely genuine.]
[As he pulls away, the Sin mindlessly pats one of his fingers down the length of the bar, counting his steps - the motion, a way to keep his hands (his wanting, needing, demanding hands) busy. He knew it wouldn't be that easy. Everything about Silco (from the way he holds himself to how he keeps it all short, cut, and to the point) is enough that he isn't surprised by his answer. Men like him rarely take orders, if at all. It's something else he can appreciate about him. The kind of independence that barely gives an inch and demands a whole, lot more.]
[Greed wraps his hand around the side door, prodding it open.] Figured as much. I'd be a little disappointed if you said otherwise. So, think on it. And once you've made your decision, we can talk about what we can do here. I've already got a few ideas in mind. [He pushes, and the makeshift separator swings open, sending twirls of rust and ash spinning out from its hinges. However, as prepared as he had been for Silco's answer, he isn't ready for what comes next.]
[The thanks practically hits him like a bullet, stopping him dead in his tracks. It causes him to freeze up, stiff and still; the movement of his tail, jerking to a jarring, jack-knife point. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Hell, it should have been easy: a little drink to melt the ice, a bit of tobacco to burn away the night. The Sin scoffs to himself and as he gradually releases his grip on the side door, he lets his thumb feel out the hem of his pants - the stretch of his fingers, fanning out one point at a time.]
Don't mention it. [He answers, finally.] Avarice runs a bit deep, is all. Wouldn't think about it too hard. [Greed touches two of his claws together, giving Silco a half-hearted solute off his hip.]
Should probably go see how our supplies are doing. Feel free to take your pick of one of the rooms upstairs. [The chord of his tail snakes behind him, leaving the side door to sway lonely at his heels.] Even if you decide it isn't worth it, consider it yours. Seems only fair. [He doesn't bother looking back at Silco. He doesn't think he has to. If the man wanted to cut his throat, he would have done it already.]
[So instead, he slinks towards the set of stairs leading deeper into the bar's bottom floor.] Have a good night, Silco.
[And with that, he heads down below; the rattle of his chains, chiming like a wandering, fading ghost.]
I don't know if you've encountered any of these strange voids yet, but if you see the lights flashing, turn around and go the other way. [ gotta look out for the dads ]
I don't know if you managed to tame one of those... spooky horses or whatever, but they're good at picking up on those spaces, too. Way more consistent than the light show.
Things could be worse. [And they will be, very soon, when he starts seeing things he'd rather never see again.] But they could be better, as well. Have you been safe?
Had a few close encounters. Those spaces are just... overwhelming. [ Every sensation. Every sound. It's draining, eats away at something in her every single time she walks into one. ] Feels like the danger in them isn't physical so much as something else.
Don't think it's safe to be stuck in them for any real length of time. I can't tell what the consequences would be, but... [ She is concerned. ]
Is there anything safe in this place? [It certainly doesn't seem like it.] These creatures seem to delight in our torment. I can see why you dislike them. [Though Silco does not, at least not yet, choose to blame Sleep in particular. They all seem somewhat at fault.]
It's a useful emotion as long as you don't get swept away in it. [ Something she's still trying to control. ]
Of course. I reached out to her before I reached out to you. I convinced her to go somewhere safe. [ Now, whether or not Jinx remains in a safe location isn't in Sharon's powers. ]
Hmm, I'm surprised she listened. She has a soft spot for you. [Silco is still undecided about whether that's a good thing or not.] Regardless, I'm glad she's safe.
I'd have gone out to find her if she hadn't listened. [ That's likely part of why Jinx listened at all. ] I try to look after her when I can. I know she's fully capable, but...
[ Sharon trails off. She is a worrier, and Jinx's mind can be made fragile by the horrors here. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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no subject
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[ jinx's love runs deeper than sharon's, but... ]
She told me.
➥ Action
[The building's wiring still isn't perfect and as he slinks down the steps, the lights hung haphazardly over the bar quiver, dropping the place into a low dim. It's fitting, in a way. Men like them - they don't typically meet in the brightness of day.]
Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. [Greed hums, his body slumped over in its usual, carefree slouch. The mask latched to one of his beltloops sways while he walks. It teeters one way, then the other; its swing, matched beat for beat by the lick of his tail. This conversation hasn't been a long one coming, but it was only a matter of time. Silco had questions, he had answers. And no matter what the other man may believe, when it comes to a deal?]
[Ah, is he truly a creature of his word.]
[The former homunculus presses the toe of his boot against a makeshift side door fastened behind the bar, pushing it open with a groan of steel and angry wood.] Still working on getting some supplies, but - [He slips his hand under the lip of the counter, knuckling two, clean (as clean as they're going to get at any rate) glasses between his fingers.] - figured something is better than nothing, don't you?
[With a tip of his head, he gives Silco a look under the edge of his sunglasses before turning back to the lines of liquor on the shelf behind him. And it's there, that he passes by the usual suspects: the half-emptied bottles of vodka, the fastened handle of cracked-open gin, the blue concoction that is, by every means, questionable.]
[However, he does find what he's looking for eventually. And with his smile reflecting in both the pieces of the mirror and bottles alike, the Sin wraps his finger around the neck of one in particular. A scotch, still capped with a glob of red, dripped wax.] You a scotch man, Silco? [He asks, his claw making quick work of the seal.]
no subject
He can't complain.]
I won't say no.
[His tastes have refined, over the years. He used to drink any swill they had available, just like every Zaunite - though it's true Silco always had a bit of a preference for things like wine, a touch classier than the bottom-of-the-barrel liquor that was all they often had. But then he had power, and money, and acquired a taste for nicer things. Clothes, liquor, cigars. All part of the image, of course, but he did genuinely enjoy them.
A flick of his cigarette - nearly gone, by now - and a thin smile.]
You've been an excellent host. You found all of these things yourself? Scavenged across the city?
[Silco is used to having to ease into these sorts of conversations, manipulate the flow of things carefully so he can get the information he wants. He knows that Greed has essentially offered it freely, but he's too used to there always being a catch - he can't quite believe that there isn't one, this time.
Well, besides having to answer questions in return. Which he actually doesn't mind. What point is there in keeping secrets, here? Anything dangerous back home is useless now.]
You're an interesting man. Or - is that what you are?
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[Which is why he's saved the bottle for an occasion. A right moment for old, familiar comforts.]
Didn't think so. [Greed hooks his claw under the wax shell, flipping it off the top of the bottle with a flick of his wrist. It disappears onto the floor, skipping and tumbling down a gap in the boards.] Wouldn't say that. I already told you. Can't really call myself Greed if I don't take care of my own now, could I? [He turns to set both glasses side by side on the bar top, and a short laugh curdles up his throat in a spin of soot.] No, not everything. I can't take all the credit. Considering the circumstances, people are lot more willing to make a deal. [A deal for what, though, he doesn't say.]
[The former homunculus lifts the bottle to his mouth to sink his teeth into the cork. And with a jerk of his head, he tears it open; the harsh smell of high-proof, burning pleasant in his nose. He pulls the stopper out of his jaws a moment later, leaving it to sit on the bar like a still pin.] Could say the same about yourself. [With two of his fingers wrapped around the base of the neck, he tips the bottle over. Glug for glug, he fills their cups. A healthy portion for a, no doubt, intriguing conversation.]
[Greed pushes one of the glasses over to Silco.] Not quite. I'm a guy, if that's what you mean. But I don't think that's your question, is it. [With a stretch of his hand, he circles his drink, blatantly showing off his tattoo.] I'm a homunculus. Something artificial. I wasn't born like humans are. [He plucks up his glass and twirls it once, giving the inside a lick of rich, thin amber.]
[Then, he shoots it back; its contents, its burn, tumbling down his throat to the tune of warmed coals doused at the end of a long, long night.]
[Once he's finished, barely half his pour remains.] My turn. This world of yours - sounds like things weren't exactly fair, were they? [A common story, and not entirely a ground-breaking question. Yet, from the little he's seen from Jinx: there was something about it that felt the same. That stunk of the same kind of bullshit that had been writhing under the surface of Amestris's military might.]
[Because the worlds may be endless, they may be strange, but governments anywhere. Ah, they've always got something else bubbling beneath them, don't they?]
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An interesting existence, certainly.
He takes a sip of the whiskey, slow, savoring the burn of it. Both because he hasn't had a drink in a long time, and because he'd rather keep his wits about him. Silco's not a lightweight, not with how he's lived his life, but he's also not exactly a large man. He knows his limits, and he has no intention of getting anywhere close to them.]
Is any world fair? [A rhetorical question, said with a twist of his lips that's almost a smile. He does intend to answer properly, though.] Of course they weren't. Zaun was nothing but a place to exploit, a place to dispose of things that the polished folk of Piltover didn't want to see. So long as it was down in the dark, they could pretend they were growing rich off nothing in particular - not the labor of people, choking in the mines, not lives barely scratched out of the bedrock. And when they were bored, the brave ones could come down for a thrill.
[His voice is relaxed. This is an old story to him, nothing to get heated about. The fire has never really dimmed, not even here - Silco would still fight for Zaun, if he could. But he keeps it carefully banked, cool and composed.]
I wanted to change that. I nearly succeeded, too. [And that's a bitter pill.
A pause, as he sets the topic aside, as near to his heart as it is. Silco has too many questions to dwell on old wounds.]
You were made, then. For what purpose?
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[Too bad it was all an elaborate game the people never knew they were playing until it was far, too late.]
[Greed slips away from the bar, walking his heels back until the dip of his spine finds the prep station behind him. And it's there, that he settles. A black cat by every definition, coiling up comfortably in its nest of observation.] But you didn't. [He answers, and there's not a single drop of snideness to his voice. The tone of it, more matter of fact.] I would say I'm sorry, but something tells me a man like yourself wouldn't want it. [He reaches out to his side while he talks, setting his glass close to his hip.] Do you regret it? Not being able to see what - Zaun, right? [The former homunculus fishes into his vest to pull out a barely touched cigarette.] Whatever it could have been?
[Mindlessly, he nudges open the lantern hanging from his horns, pressing the end of the cigarette into the lit candle inside. He rotates it three times for good measure; the smile on his lips, digging deep into his cheek.] Cut right to the chase, don't you. [Clap, and he slaps the lantern shut.] Good. No reason to hold anything back. Not with me, Silco.
[The end of his cigarette flakes away, black and tarry, and the Sin examines it a moment or two before sliding it between the points of his teeth.] I'm his greed. Good, ol'Daddy sir. [An exhale of smoke cuts through his jaw, billowing out like a passing thunderhead.] He wanted to remove us to become the perfect being. And in the process, we were supposed to follow his orders to bring about the Promised Day.
[Cool and collected as he is, there's no hiding the concept in his voice. The venom, spitting between the forks of his tongue like an adder that has every means of making someone think twice. Greed inhales, and the cherry at the end of his smoke drops away to ash.] I left them all 100 years ago. Couldn't really get everything I wanted if I worked under someone else's rules now, could I?
[The former homunculus peels himself from the backside of the bar with a push of his hand and as he reaches forward, he pulls a pack out of his vest. It's bent in all the wrong places, half its lid is missing, but there are cigarettes in there. Not many, but enough.]
[And what can he say? He's feeling a little giving.]
[Greed pushes one out of the box, flipping it over his fingers.] Didn't stop them from finding me, eventually. But that's a story for another time. [He sucks in low, bringing the spare smoke with him. And with one, long inhale, he coaxes the second cigarette flaringly to life; its play of smoke, tethering loose between his knuckles.]
[He hands it off to Silco once he's done and satisfied.] See, I am Greed. The living embodiment of it. And call it whatever you want, but I've always been a fan of the underdog. [He's a bit closer now, drinking Silco in through the lenses of his shades.] I don't expect you to believe me. It'd be stupid for you to. But I hope that, someday, you'll find that I'm a bit different than the rest. As I see it, humans have a lot more potential than most give 'em credit for. [Another wad of ash drops off his smoke to run a line across the bar.]
And the mortal lot? They'll always find a way to surprise ya.
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It's not difficult to believe that Greed is what he says he is. This place seems to collect people with remarkable origins, strange stories. Silco wouldn't have considered himself among them - no eldritch beginnings, no immense powers left behind. Never anything but himself, his goals, his own determination.
But he did make himself into something. So perhaps he's not so far outside the norm, here.
What Silco doesn't believe, at least not easily, is that Greed is any different from any human. Out for what he can get, power or money or pleasure, as base as anyone. But that's all right. It's what Silco's comfortable with, after all. He knows how to use those sorts of things, he knows what to expect.]
So someone decided to remove their vices, turn them into people, and use them for some sort of nonsensical scheme. No wonder you left. [And Silco can certainly respect that choice - walking away, becoming something entirely your own.] What does it mean to be Greed? A collector of things, of people? Of power?
[He watches Greed across the bar, one thin-fingered hand curled around the glass of scotch, the other holding his cigarette. On the surface, entirely at ease, but Silco is always just a bit tense in situations like this. Ready to run or fight, if he must. It's not personal.]
Yes. [An abrupt, definitive answer. Just a shade of bitterness, there and then gone.] I regret not being able to see it - not being able to finish the job. I spent my life fighting for Zaun, turned myself into a monster for it. [The briefest flash of a thin smile.] And I was excellent at it. It would have been sweet, to usher my home into a new era.
[He taps the ash off the end of the cigarette, dismissing that moment of regret, of desire for a different path.] But I always knew that I could die at any time. That's what happens when you become the one with all the power - everyone wants it. Any moment of weakness might be the end. I didn't expect the one I got, but I knew it was likely coming.
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[It's all too easy to fall back into the usual status quo.]
[Greed inhales, and the filter of his cigarette shrinks under the press of his teeth; the tips of them, leaving behind faint, fine holes.] You've got most of it, except for the people part. [He scissors the butt between two of his claws, flicking a spec of hot ash onto the floor with his thumb.] I'm not a person, Silco. Not really. [A trail of smoke kisses his lips only spread and thin along the ceiling.] As for him and the rest, well. They should have known better. I got a bit of a rebellious streak, after all. It shouldn't have been that surprising.
[Ah, and there's the million-dollar question. One that he should have expected, that he always should expect, and as the Sin lowers his head, the grin on his face turns to a sliver; the look of it like a shark's sly smile, holding back a secret.]
[He levels his cigarette against the side of an ashtray nearby.] Sorry, you've got that part wrong, chief. But that's just it, isn't it? Humans always think greed's just for money and power - [The words trail off his tongue, sweet and faint with smoke. It isn't the first time he's had to explain it. Mortals had a habit of thinking in absolutes; he can't entirely blame them.] - but everyone wants something they can't have. Let's put it this way. [He lifts his finger out of the tray, turning it over once to catch a glint of light off his claw.] You would do anything for Zaun, right? You wanted to protect your home, you wanted to protect the people in it. It's not that different.
The mortal lot tends to get too wrapped up in what's right, what's wrong. [His eyes shift behind his sunglasses. A sudden movement like an unknown something, wallowing in the depths.] What's good, what's bad. To me? It's all good. So, no. [He reaches behind him, curling his middle finger over the edge of his glass.]. It's not just money and power I want, Silco. Not by a long shot.
[He spreads the rest of his fingers one at a time, circling his drink in a cage of claws. Clp, clp, clp.] Money, women, men, sex, status, glory. I want everything you can possibly imagine. [Maybe, it's just the fact that the situation is his usual. Maybe, it's simply because he's comfortable. In any case, he manages to keep that fever of his dimmed to a low broil; the heat of his hand, merely turning the inside of the glass to a phantom's foggy touch.]
[The former homunculus curls up one half of his lip as he brings his drink close to his mouth again.] Gunna stop you right there. What? You think you're the first person who's been desperate enough to make a few, bad choices? [He leers forward, causing his sunglasses to drift a hair down his nose.] Don't be stupid. [With a tip of his head, the rest of the scotch tumbles slick down his throat. The Sin tosses the empty glass onto the bar top, letting it skate away on its own sweat.] Calling yourself a monster. You had to make a choice, right? Wouldn't make it anything more than that.
Course, I could be wrong. But something tells me if these people, the ones from Piltover, had made things fair from the beginning, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation, would we. [Over the rims of his shades, his eyes are points.] It doesn't matter, anyway. Who you were, what you've done - I don't really care. All that matters is what you truly want.
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[He does want things, of course. It's true that he would have done nearly anything he could to free Zaun, he wanted it that badly. And for so long, too, most of his life. What few things Silco wanted, he burned for.
But it was few. In the end, Zaun and Jinx were the only two things that really mattered to him. Power, money - they were certainly nice to have, and he didn't hesitate to take advantage of their benefits. But they were a side effect of the brutal climb to a position where he could secure Zaun's freedom. They were leverage, a weapon, not something he wanted solely for its own sake.
And people, pleasure, sex - it isn't as if Silco didn't have the opportunity. Plenty of people wanted things from him and would have been happy to trade a night or two for it, no matter how off-putting his scars might be. But there was too much bound up in it - vulnerability, the balance of power, the chance of betrayal. He rarely felt enough desire to risk it, and even then, only when he was absolutely certain of the terms of the transaction.
It's who Greed is, he understands. But to Silco, simply that sort of existence seems - tiring.]
What is it about you, then, that makes you not a person? You look like one to me. And wanting things seems quite fundamental to being a person.
[He tilts his glass, letting the liquid swirl. Silco is watching Greed, assessing him, as he has been from the beginning. He's inclined to like the man - a rare thing, for Silco, but he knows what Greed has done for Jinx.
Still, that doesn't mean anything if he decides Greed might be a threat.]
I don't need absolution, or to be told I was simply a man making choices. [His eyes are sharp, but his voice is even.] I was, and I made choices that I was perfectly aware would hurt people. Sometimes I made them because they would hurt people. I certainly wasn't desperate. [At least, not all the time. At the beginning, he was. But that was so long ago.] Zaun needed a monster, and I was very good at it.
But you're right. [A raise of his glass, acknowledging Greed, and he takes a sip.] It doesn't matter anymore. Zaun is out of my reach forever. What I want now, the only thing I want, is my daughter's safety.
[He doesn't mind saying it. There's no reason to lie. In fact, the more who know, the better - because Silco is perfectly willing to do anything it takes to protect Jinx, and it isn't as if she's a fainting damsel to be used against him. She's dangerous, just like her father.]
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[Greed stretches his spine to press the side of his head into the collar of his vest.] Mn. That's a little more complicated. Let's save that for another time, hmn? We've just met, after all. And you might not like the answer. [Because there were a few things that set him apart besides the obvious. Creatures like him - they took a lot to make. He can't really tell a man (a man he's coming to appreciate, a man whose daughter is, by lack of any other way to put it, living under his roof) that what he's made of? Are a thousand or more damned souls, forever trapped in the pit of his chest.]
[It's not exactly a smooth icebreaker.]
[Thankfully, Silco does him the favor of changing the subject. It's clear he hasn't struck a nerve, not really, but the light scolding isn't lost on him. The former homunculus breathes through his smile, sending a speckle of ash flecking between his teeth.] Who said I was giving you absolution? You do remember who you're talking to, right? Don't get the wrong idea. [Greed crosses one of his legs over the other, closing the gap between himself and the bar that separates him and Silco.] I'm sure you did. A man like you doesn't get a name for himself by playing a diplomat. [He reaches close (too close to care, too close for any sort of comfort) to pick the dying butt of his cigarette out of the tray.] But let's get one thing clear. I'm not interested in hurting anyone unless I have to, friend. Some people just don't know when to quit. And coming for mine? Ah, well. I can't really have that, can I.
[It's not a threat, but a promise. When push comes to shove, and shove comes to a trade of blows, avarice will always get what's owed.]
[Greed levels his chest over the counter and with a single, long drag, he eats away the rest of his smoke; its paper, turning to ash in his hand.] No, it doesn't matter anymore. Sounds like you and I have another thing in common. [He's reading between the lines and making his own assumptions, but something tells him he's got part of it right. Neither him nor Silco have anywhere to go back to.]
[Dead men don't usually get to see how it ends, after all.]
[The former homunculus smears his butt in the tray, drawing out a new circle in soot.] Then, seems to me, we want the same thing. She asked me before, y'know. To make sure she didn't do anything stupid. [One of her lower points, most likely. Why she chose him, of all people, is anyone's guess. Maybe it had been the fact that he didn't care who or what she was, either.]
So, if it's all the same to you, why don't we cut right to the chase? [Greed bows his chin, letting his eyes flick up to watch Silco's face.] I don't plan on letting anything happen to her, and I'm not exactly a big fan of our friend running the joint. If that's fine with you, then consider the door open. Stay here, don't. Whatever you want, that's the deal. And in return?
[Mindlessly, he grinds his claws together to clean off any tobacco still clinging to his fingers.] You can work for me. Figure you're probably used to running things. I won't deny you that. Whatever you do here - that's up to you. [He cocks his wrist, pointing at the other man with a slow snap of his thumb.] Hell, you might be able to show me a thing or two. Not like we had all this back where I'm from.
It's your choice, though. If you decide you aren't interested, I won't take it personally. [The Sin slides his hand away from the bar and as his knuckles bounce across the surface, a couple of stray splinters poking from the counter begin to huff with smoke - his briefly stroke of heat, catching and snuffing them out as quickly as a gathering of soaked fuses.]
Don't have to answer me now, by the way. Not like I don't have the time. [He steps away, showing Silco part of his back.]
Enjoy the drink, Silco.
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Silco was never a particularly good employee. When he worked in the mines, he was the sort to agitate the other workers, demand better conditions, which unsurprisingly escalated to encompass the entirety of the Undercity. He's always done better with no one to report to but himself, putting his plans in action, getting things done.
But he really can't help the fact that just looking around at this place, he can see a dozen things that ought to be done. Especially if Greed actually intends it to be the sort of bar people would patronize. And Silco, for all that he dislikes the idea of working for anyone, is also not the sort of person who can lay around doing nothing.]
I might be willing to work with you. It depends on what you want done. [Because if he's really going to give Silco the run of the place, well, then they won't have any problem at all.] I'll think about it.
[He studies Greed, his easy confidence, the things he's chosen not to say. Silco can't say he's not interested. But he's wary, as he is with most things. He nearly leaves it there - he has plenty more questions, but he supposes they can wait - but there's something lingering.]
Jinx told me what you did for her.
[He doesn't understand why, isn't certain that it wasn't for some reason he doesn't know about yet, certainly doesn't trust Greed.
But.
That's his daughter, the only person in any world who cares about him even a little, the only person in any world that he loves. Of course he's grateful for what Greed did. Of course he owes Greed, and knows that he does, even if he doesn't say it.]
Thank you.
[And he'll leave it at that. It's more than nearly anyone else would get, because it is entirely genuine.]
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[Greed wraps his hand around the side door, prodding it open.] Figured as much. I'd be a little disappointed if you said otherwise. So, think on it. And once you've made your decision, we can talk about what we can do here. I've already got a few ideas in mind. [He pushes, and the makeshift separator swings open, sending twirls of rust and ash spinning out from its hinges. However, as prepared as he had been for Silco's answer, he isn't ready for what comes next.]
[The thanks practically hits him like a bullet, stopping him dead in his tracks. It causes him to freeze up, stiff and still; the movement of his tail, jerking to a jarring, jack-knife point. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Hell, it should have been easy: a little drink to melt the ice, a bit of tobacco to burn away the night. The Sin scoffs to himself and as he gradually releases his grip on the side door, he lets his thumb feel out the hem of his pants - the stretch of his fingers, fanning out one point at a time.]
Don't mention it. [He answers, finally.] Avarice runs a bit deep, is all. Wouldn't think about it too hard. [Greed touches two of his claws together, giving Silco a half-hearted solute off his hip.]
Should probably go see how our supplies are doing. Feel free to take your pick of one of the rooms upstairs. [The chord of his tail snakes behind him, leaving the side door to sway lonely at his heels.] Even if you decide it isn't worth it, consider it yours. Seems only fair. [He doesn't bother looking back at Silco. He doesn't think he has to. If the man wanted to cut his throat, he would have done it already.]
[So instead, he slinks towards the set of stairs leading deeper into the bar's bottom floor.] Have a good night, Silco.
[And with that, he heads down below; the rattle of his chains, chiming like a wandering, fading ghost.]
mid-week one
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You doing all right so far?
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Don't think it's safe to be stuck in them for any real length of time. I can't tell what the consequences would be, but... [ She is concerned. ]
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I dislike peaches. I dislike getting my socks wet. I hate Sleep. One is up there, but that's because he's got no backbone.
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Have you checked in on my daughter as well? [He's not going to ask about Vander, that guy can waste away in a pit of darkness for all he cares.]
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Of course. I reached out to her before I reached out to you. I convinced her to go somewhere safe. [ Now, whether or not Jinx remains in a safe location isn't in Sharon's powers. ]
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[ Sharon trails off. She is a worrier, and Jinx's mind can be made fragile by the horrors here. ]
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[And he does worry, as well. Especially having seen some of the worst possible outcomes, back home.]
Thank you for your concern. For both of us.
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