[Silco stays very still. He stays still, and he lets Greed touch him. He thinks about slapping the man's hand away, pushing back in his chair, putting distance between them, but he doesn't do it. Perhaps because he didn't expect it, perhaps because he's too busy turning it over in his head - those memories. Is that how Greed died?
They're the same, after all. Nothing to go back to, nowhere but here. A second chance neither of them deserves, not really, but given to them anyway. It's a miserable place, but they're alive, and to Silco that counts for something. To a man who's clung to survival with teeth and nails, it counts for a lot.
And the Ultimate Shield. He doesn't know what it means, exactly, but he remembers that creature that Greed turned into, in the dream. Was that what he was made for, then? To protect someone or something. To protect the things he considers his.
It does seem accurate.]
Mine? [A pause, and then a warning.] Don't give pieces of yourself away so easily. I'll use anything you give me.
[Information, protection, even kindness. Isn't he already? Silco is starting to understand Greed, to understand how he views those he thinks of as his, and he'll have no hesitation using that to protect himself, to protect his daughter. Right now, he knows, it's what they both want - Greed to protect his things, Silco to protect his, and for the moment those are the same. But they might not always be.
So, a warning, though he thinks he already knows how Greed will feel about that.
But he owes an answer, and so he gives it.]
I lost track of time down there. I was fevered, from the infection. I don't know how long it was before I could think properly again. [And then he crawled deeper, and found Singed, and Shimmer at least managed to save his eye. Somewhat. The rest of the damage was already done.] He looked for me, he says, and I have no doubt it's true. But I hid too well.
[There's the faintest hint of a humorless smile. Silco puts the cigar to his lips, and he hardly notices the scar tissue stretching most of the time anymore - it's just normal now. But he notices then.]
I was certain he would kill me if he found me, so I stayed away from anything I knew. He left a letter, Jinx says, somewhere he and I spent so much of our time together. But I never went back. I didn't see it.
[And the worst of it:]
I probably would have gone back to him, if I had.
[He's thought of it too many times, in the past weeks. Not for years, and then so much. Silco knows the man he was, frightened and alone, and he remembers how much he loved Vander. Yes, he would have taken any apology. Would have gone back, and for what? So that Vander could finish the job the next time?
What he doesn't think about, what he tries never to consider, is whether that might not have happened. Whether they could have gotten back what they had. Because Vander might try to rewrite their history now, but Silco remembers. They were happy, once. Stupid and young and reckless, but happy.
He's never felt that since.]
Don't lose any sleep over it, though. He's paid for it all, and more. He just tried to kill me. I succeeded.
I used the wrong word in a tag before and it is STARING ME in the face forgive my sin
[The Sin lifts his upper lip, giving a glimpse of his gums. He lets the cigar roll between his claws - a lull, to put the troubles of the night to bed.] Don't get smart, handsome. I can't give it to you like that, but you'll have it when the time comes. I already said I have no plans on stopping the two of you. There's no point. But - [He pulls one of his fingers off the roll of tobacco, and a loose leaf catches on the tip of his nail; its shrink of heat and soot, blinking out like a lost star.] - I will be the one to put an end to it before he gets the chance. Get it all out of your system, right?
[Greed hunches forward, forcing his chest level with the window sill, and the wad of ash at the end of his smoke drops. Its silent fall of stories, announced by the soft plnk of his shoulder as it pops in and out of its socket.]
And I know you will. You've already shown me what a man like you will do. Anything, hmn? [Languidly, he stretches two of his wings along the flattest part of the wall. They unfurl, slowly and tentatively; the stretch of them, skittering like the soft stroke of nails along a chalkboard.] Equivalent exchange, though, Sil. I expect you to make good on your end. We need to get this place up and running, and start figuring out our supply situation. [The change of subject is more comfortable. For him, for his. For them. Least, he assumes so.]
[And it is important: if they're going to start making moves, then they'll need the means to do it. Things to keep them safe, surviving, and ah, does he already have a list in mind. Some practical, some necessities, and others cherries to top it all off, if only to bring more of them in.]
[The Sin shifts and as his wings fold in on themselves, he shrugs his shoulders, causing his vest to slide unceremoniously down his back.] Zaun, Dublith. Here. It might not be the world we're used to, but some things never change. People need somewhere to go. I plan on providing just that. And you - [The former homunculus mouths his cigar with a lewd, tantalizing wrap of his tongue.] - you're going to help me do it.
[A cloud of smoke fumes from his nose, and the former homunculus settles his head into the corner of the window.] You did what you had to. No shame in that. [The tether between them, however, jumps briefly from his end. A skip, like a heartbeat that's forgotten its rhythm. Greed clicks his tongue as he closes his eyes.] And if he gave it to you now? [He asks - his voice, jazzy and smooth. There's no judgement from his end either way. Hell, it would almost be easier for him if they just got it over with and buried the hatchet once and for all.] Not that it matters to me. What you do is always going to be your choice, schatz. Think I've made that pretty clear by now.
[He knows, though, that it's a pipe dream. A pipe dream, formed and shaped into a solid, handheld grenade. Who will finally pull the pin is anyone's guess. But he did say it to Vander once, didn't he?]
[No one ever said there was anything wrong with too much hope.]
[Greed thumbs the waist of his pants, slipping his claw behind the hem to feel out his hip.] I'm not going to. Not like I sleep much, anyway. [Even here, where he's been forced to do so, it always came in waves. Chunks of time interrupted by his want or something else as he paced out the wee-morning hours.] We'll need people, too. Those with skills neither of us have. [Talking business, talking about anything that avoids his honesty, is simpler.] I only know how to make sure mine don't bleed out, but anything more than that - [Infection, disease. Rot. Silco may forget about his scar from time to time, but here, now, that's all he feels. All he feels, burning its bitterness at the back of his throat.]
[So, like always, he swallows it down. Any questions Silco has, he'll gladly answer. But there are some things he doesn't need to know. This happens to be one of them.]
As for Vander, think the guy's made it obvious that he doesn't like me very much. Suppose that gives us something else in common. [And maybe, Silco can read between the lines. Maybe, he'll make his own assumptions. Whatever the case may be, the man has him if he needs him. No matter how many nights he slips away, no matter how many hours he disappears in exchange for more intimate company. He'll always be back. A devil, returning to the house it's named for.]
I have to go take care of a few things in the next couple of days. In the meantime, might be a good idea to start putting those skills of yours to use. See if anyone is interested in making a deal, and which of 'em are more reasonable.
[There's a twitch of his lip, there and gone, at handsome. Silco knows he's not. He never really was, but especially not now, and he knows Greed doesn't mean anything by it - just another of the nicknames, like the one Silco doesn't understand - but it stings even so, because that memory is so close.
But he doesn't say anything about it. No point.]
If you're imagining some dramatic brawl to settle our differences, don't bother. I'm not going to go after him. I wouldn't win, and all it would accomplish would be to create more problems. [It's hard to remember that sometimes, when he's actually talking to Vander, angry and resentful, but the rest of the time Silco knows better. Even if he did win, what's the point in killing someone who would just come back? It would upset Jinx, and anyone Vander is friends with here, and Silco doesn't have the resources to be able to afford to make a lot of enemies right now.] If he comes after me -[A possibility Silco has to consider.] - I wouldn't mind the help.
[Because in any physical contest, Silco loses. He might be a bit faster than Vander, but Vander is stronger, larger, can take more damage. Silco only wins if he has help, time to plan, luck on his side. He knows that very, very well.]
As for your question, there's too much blood between us now. Didn't you hear me? I killed him. I was responsible for the deaths of two of his children, too. There's no possible forgiveness, even if I begged for it. Which I have no intention of doing.
[Silco wasn't the one who killed them, but Vander blames him for it, and that's good. He took Vander, they came to try to rescue him. They wouldn't have been there if it weren't for Silco. And what's the alternative? Silco isn't going to deflect the blame on Jinx. Vander can't hurt him any more than he already has, but there's nothing in the world that would make Silco give Vander a reason to hurt her.
Besides, he wouldn't have hesitated to kill them, back then. He wouldn't have hesitated to kill anyone. So it's all the same, in the end.
He feels that skip though, that brief moment. Wonders if that was too much for Greed, a step too far, admitting what he did to Vander. The man's heart is in better shape than Silco's own, he already knows. But it's not a secret. There's no point in trying to keep it like one.]
He doesn't like you because of me. I expect you'd be fast friends, otherwise.
[They aren't that similar, but Silco can see the little things, the ways they might get along. Not that he wants that. He can't imagine how anyone would manage to be close to them both, anymore, besides Jinx. Greed would have to choose one or the other, and in those situations, Silco always expects he won't be the one chosen.
Better that Vander doesn't like him.]
As for our plans - I'm not new to this, so you don't need to tell me what to do. [A rather gentle reminder, for Silco, though there's a slight sharpness in his voice.] As it happens, though, if you're looking for a doctor I may know of one. And I have some things in motion already that ought to bring us some goodwill, and perhaps more connections to skills that might be useful. I'll keep myself busy while you're gone. There is one more thing, though.
[Silco sets the cigar in his ashtray and stands, crossing the small room to put himself at Greed's back. Not touching him, but close.] I'll take care of your people. I'll warn them, and I'll ensure they're prepared for possible danger, and if it comes I'll do what I can to keep them safe. But what's your plan? When the danger you're putting yourself in comes for you, do you have an escape route? Backup? Someone to keep you from bleeding out, or at least to drag your corpse out and find somebody to bring you back?
[He heard everything Greed said, and it was all about the others. But Greed is the one throwing himself into danger, and Silco isn't going to let him go without putting his feet to the fire about that. About having some kind of plan besides just saying that he'll be fine and nothing more.]
And don't just tell me you'll be fine.
TIME TO WALK backwards into hell then I GUESS. Also CW: Mild FMA:B Spoilers
[No, what's he thinking is the worst-case scenario. Where the two of are left bleeding out in whatever hole they found themselves in, and Jinx is the one who has to see it all: the bodies left behind and the mess they've made, laid out before her to the tune of a death bell that'll never ring. He can't risk it. Jinx is already holding onto scraps as they are. And while he doesn't know her whole story, the way she puts up walls - pot to kettle, he can read the writing on them well enough.]
[The Sin grazes the forks of his tongue against the tobacco, prodding its poison into the inside of his cheek.] Then let me do what I do best. [His job, he fails to mention.] I won't kill him, but I'll make sure you both walk away in one piece. Least, as much as you'll give me. [Not unharmed. That's impossible, even by his standards. But alive nonetheless, and that's a promise he'll make good on, no matter what consequences come his way.]
[Greed pulls his head away from the window, raking his claws gradually through his hair. He wasn't wrong with his initial assumption. Silco was and is a man who can't help but keep himself busy.] Sounds to me like we've both got some things to check off our lists, don't we? [He lets his eyes briefly wander; the slide of them as slippery as oil, washing off the water's edge.]
[And it's funny. He should be more prepared by now. Should be more ready for the second jab Silco has waiting for him, coming to get him when he's already got his defenses down low. Does he have a plan for himself? What kind of question is that? Of course he doesn't. He never has. He knows what's waiting for him if this all goes tits up. Knows and still doesn't give a damn either way. Silco thinks there'll be a corpse to find, and part of him wishes he could tell him. To look him in the eye and give him all his truths right here and now, if only to save him the trouble of searching for something he'll never find.]
[Homunculi didn't leave anything behind, in the end. Save the ash of it, the ash they've ever been, thinning away as chaste and fleeting as snow.]
[But he can't. Because, for as much as the man might not care, for as much as the man might forget his face and wash his hands clean of all of it, part of him. Ah, well. Sometimes the mercy is the things left in the dark.]
Sorry, schatz. That's for me to know. [The Sin hums, thoughtfully, as he flips his cigar between his knuckles. He shoves the hot end against the building not a moment later, snuffing it out in a dance of twinkling soot. No, that's a part of the story he refuses to give, no matter how many times he's asked. The sewer hadn't been his only end, and it wouldn't be his last. However, one thing is true.]
[There's no going back for him, and he'd gladly do it again. Gladly throw all of his bet on the slim chance that his make it to a better day.]
[Greed nudges his cigar into his back pocket and with a dip of his chin, he latches both his arms up and around the outside of the window sill.] Don't lose sleep on it. [He chides back. A subtle, soft, but no less nipping scolding in return.] It won't come back on you and Jinx, so it doesn't matter. 'Sides, it takes a lot more actually kill me, Sil. [Before, at least. Here, he's not so sure.]
I'll make sure it doesn't take any skin off your back, if that's what you're worried about. [With a tight squeeze of his stomach, he flips over to examine the outside of the building and its pock-marked face. Complicated. Everything is so complicated and no matter how hard he tries, the note from his side of the tether betrays him. Its small notion as soft as a pin, dropped in the noise of a swift retreat.]
[The former homunculus grins (shark-toothed and wild), and the sensation dies.] Eat, rest up, and let me worry about the details. [His hands move while he talks, latching onto a ledge of brick poking out of the side wall.] Need your pretty head screwed on tight, Sil. Better that way. [Perhaps, he doesn't realize it. Or maybe, it's been done on purpose. Whatever the case, while he is obviously planning his exit, there are things he's leaving behind. The gifts, the trinkets. His boots and vest, a signature to everything he is. It could all be nothing, but for a man who wants everything, the gesture isn't a quiet one:]
["I'll be back, whether you like it or not."]
[Greed grunts, pulling himself halfway out of the window. His wings weigh him down, but with his thighs spread and his grip on the building, he manages to keep himself from falling.] A pleasure, as always, Silco.
[And with that, he releases. The sounds of him (chains jangling, claws scratching, leather whining) slipping through the frame as smooth as a reaper's ghost. He takes flight not too soon after; the low laugh in his chest seeming to chase him like a bolt of lightning, echoed in thunder.]
[And as he disappears, there's something else he leaves behind. The faint kiss of tobacco, avarice's incense, hallowing its own, holy(ed) ground.]
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They're the same, after all. Nothing to go back to, nowhere but here. A second chance neither of them deserves, not really, but given to them anyway. It's a miserable place, but they're alive, and to Silco that counts for something. To a man who's clung to survival with teeth and nails, it counts for a lot.
And the Ultimate Shield. He doesn't know what it means, exactly, but he remembers that creature that Greed turned into, in the dream. Was that what he was made for, then? To protect someone or something. To protect the things he considers his.
It does seem accurate.]
Mine? [A pause, and then a warning.] Don't give pieces of yourself away so easily. I'll use anything you give me.
[Information, protection, even kindness. Isn't he already? Silco is starting to understand Greed, to understand how he views those he thinks of as his, and he'll have no hesitation using that to protect himself, to protect his daughter. Right now, he knows, it's what they both want - Greed to protect his things, Silco to protect his, and for the moment those are the same. But they might not always be.
So, a warning, though he thinks he already knows how Greed will feel about that.
But he owes an answer, and so he gives it.]
I lost track of time down there. I was fevered, from the infection. I don't know how long it was before I could think properly again. [And then he crawled deeper, and found Singed, and Shimmer at least managed to save his eye. Somewhat. The rest of the damage was already done.] He looked for me, he says, and I have no doubt it's true. But I hid too well.
[There's the faintest hint of a humorless smile. Silco puts the cigar to his lips, and he hardly notices the scar tissue stretching most of the time anymore - it's just normal now. But he notices then.]
I was certain he would kill me if he found me, so I stayed away from anything I knew. He left a letter, Jinx says, somewhere he and I spent so much of our time together. But I never went back. I didn't see it.
[And the worst of it:]
I probably would have gone back to him, if I had.
[He's thought of it too many times, in the past weeks. Not for years, and then so much. Silco knows the man he was, frightened and alone, and he remembers how much he loved Vander. Yes, he would have taken any apology. Would have gone back, and for what? So that Vander could finish the job the next time?
What he doesn't think about, what he tries never to consider, is whether that might not have happened. Whether they could have gotten back what they had. Because Vander might try to rewrite their history now, but Silco remembers. They were happy, once. Stupid and young and reckless, but happy.
He's never felt that since.]
Don't lose any sleep over it, though. He's paid for it all, and more. He just tried to kill me. I succeeded.
I used the wrong word in a tag before and it is STARING ME in the face forgive my sin
[Greed hunches forward, forcing his chest level with the window sill, and the wad of ash at the end of his smoke drops. Its silent fall of stories, announced by the soft plnk of his shoulder as it pops in and out of its socket.]
And I know you will. You've already shown me what a man like you will do. Anything, hmn? [Languidly, he stretches two of his wings along the flattest part of the wall. They unfurl, slowly and tentatively; the stretch of them, skittering like the soft stroke of nails along a chalkboard.] Equivalent exchange, though, Sil. I expect you to make good on your end. We need to get this place up and running, and start figuring out our supply situation. [The change of subject is more comfortable. For him, for his. For them. Least, he assumes so.]
[And it is important: if they're going to start making moves, then they'll need the means to do it. Things to keep them safe, surviving, and ah, does he already have a list in mind. Some practical, some necessities, and others cherries to top it all off, if only to bring more of them in.]
[The Sin shifts and as his wings fold in on themselves, he shrugs his shoulders, causing his vest to slide unceremoniously down his back.] Zaun, Dublith. Here. It might not be the world we're used to, but some things never change. People need somewhere to go. I plan on providing just that. And you - [The former homunculus mouths his cigar with a lewd, tantalizing wrap of his tongue.] - you're going to help me do it.
[A cloud of smoke fumes from his nose, and the former homunculus settles his head into the corner of the window.] You did what you had to. No shame in that. [The tether between them, however, jumps briefly from his end. A skip, like a heartbeat that's forgotten its rhythm. Greed clicks his tongue as he closes his eyes.] And if he gave it to you now? [He asks - his voice, jazzy and smooth. There's no judgement from his end either way. Hell, it would almost be easier for him if they just got it over with and buried the hatchet once and for all.] Not that it matters to me. What you do is always going to be your choice, schatz. Think I've made that pretty clear by now.
[He knows, though, that it's a pipe dream. A pipe dream, formed and shaped into a solid, handheld grenade. Who will finally pull the pin is anyone's guess. But he did say it to Vander once, didn't he?]
[No one ever said there was anything wrong with too much hope.]
[Greed thumbs the waist of his pants, slipping his claw behind the hem to feel out his hip.] I'm not going to. Not like I sleep much, anyway. [Even here, where he's been forced to do so, it always came in waves. Chunks of time interrupted by his want or something else as he paced out the wee-morning hours.] We'll need people, too. Those with skills neither of us have. [Talking business, talking about anything that avoids his honesty, is simpler.] I only know how to make sure mine don't bleed out, but anything more than that - [Infection, disease. Rot. Silco may forget about his scar from time to time, but here, now, that's all he feels. All he feels, burning its bitterness at the back of his throat.]
[So, like always, he swallows it down. Any questions Silco has, he'll gladly answer. But there are some things he doesn't need to know. This happens to be one of them.]
As for Vander, think the guy's made it obvious that he doesn't like me very much. Suppose that gives us something else in common. [And maybe, Silco can read between the lines. Maybe, he'll make his own assumptions. Whatever the case may be, the man has him if he needs him. No matter how many nights he slips away, no matter how many hours he disappears in exchange for more intimate company. He'll always be back. A devil, returning to the house it's named for.]
I have to go take care of a few things in the next couple of days. In the meantime, might be a good idea to start putting those skills of yours to use. See if anyone is interested in making a deal, and which of 'em are more reasonable.
I'm sorry but your sin cannot be forgiven
But he doesn't say anything about it. No point.]
If you're imagining some dramatic brawl to settle our differences, don't bother. I'm not going to go after him. I wouldn't win, and all it would accomplish would be to create more problems. [It's hard to remember that sometimes, when he's actually talking to Vander, angry and resentful, but the rest of the time Silco knows better. Even if he did win, what's the point in killing someone who would just come back? It would upset Jinx, and anyone Vander is friends with here, and Silco doesn't have the resources to be able to afford to make a lot of enemies right now.] If he comes after me -[A possibility Silco has to consider.] - I wouldn't mind the help.
[Because in any physical contest, Silco loses. He might be a bit faster than Vander, but Vander is stronger, larger, can take more damage. Silco only wins if he has help, time to plan, luck on his side. He knows that very, very well.]
As for your question, there's too much blood between us now. Didn't you hear me? I killed him. I was responsible for the deaths of two of his children, too. There's no possible forgiveness, even if I begged for it. Which I have no intention of doing.
[Silco wasn't the one who killed them, but Vander blames him for it, and that's good. He took Vander, they came to try to rescue him. They wouldn't have been there if it weren't for Silco. And what's the alternative? Silco isn't going to deflect the blame on Jinx. Vander can't hurt him any more than he already has, but there's nothing in the world that would make Silco give Vander a reason to hurt her.
Besides, he wouldn't have hesitated to kill them, back then. He wouldn't have hesitated to kill anyone. So it's all the same, in the end.
He feels that skip though, that brief moment. Wonders if that was too much for Greed, a step too far, admitting what he did to Vander. The man's heart is in better shape than Silco's own, he already knows. But it's not a secret. There's no point in trying to keep it like one.]
He doesn't like you because of me. I expect you'd be fast friends, otherwise.
[They aren't that similar, but Silco can see the little things, the ways they might get along. Not that he wants that. He can't imagine how anyone would manage to be close to them both, anymore, besides Jinx. Greed would have to choose one or the other, and in those situations, Silco always expects he won't be the one chosen.
Better that Vander doesn't like him.]
As for our plans - I'm not new to this, so you don't need to tell me what to do. [A rather gentle reminder, for Silco, though there's a slight sharpness in his voice.] As it happens, though, if you're looking for a doctor I may know of one. And I have some things in motion already that ought to bring us some goodwill, and perhaps more connections to skills that might be useful. I'll keep myself busy while you're gone. There is one more thing, though.
[Silco sets the cigar in his ashtray and stands, crossing the small room to put himself at Greed's back. Not touching him, but close.] I'll take care of your people. I'll warn them, and I'll ensure they're prepared for possible danger, and if it comes I'll do what I can to keep them safe. But what's your plan? When the danger you're putting yourself in comes for you, do you have an escape route? Backup? Someone to keep you from bleeding out, or at least to drag your corpse out and find somebody to bring you back?
[He heard everything Greed said, and it was all about the others. But Greed is the one throwing himself into danger, and Silco isn't going to let him go without putting his feet to the fire about that. About having some kind of plan besides just saying that he'll be fine and nothing more.]
And don't just tell me you'll be fine.
TIME TO WALK backwards into hell then I GUESS. Also CW: Mild FMA:B Spoilers
[The Sin grazes the forks of his tongue against the tobacco, prodding its poison into the inside of his cheek.] Then let me do what I do best. [His job, he fails to mention.] I won't kill him, but I'll make sure you both walk away in one piece. Least, as much as you'll give me. [Not unharmed. That's impossible, even by his standards. But alive nonetheless, and that's a promise he'll make good on, no matter what consequences come his way.]
[Greed pulls his head away from the window, raking his claws gradually through his hair. He wasn't wrong with his initial assumption. Silco was and is a man who can't help but keep himself busy.] Sounds to me like we've both got some things to check off our lists, don't we? [He lets his eyes briefly wander; the slide of them as slippery as oil, washing off the water's edge.]
[And it's funny. He should be more prepared by now. Should be more ready for the second jab Silco has waiting for him, coming to get him when he's already got his defenses down low. Does he have a plan for himself? What kind of question is that? Of course he doesn't. He never has. He knows what's waiting for him if this all goes tits up. Knows and still doesn't give a damn either way. Silco thinks there'll be a corpse to find, and part of him wishes he could tell him. To look him in the eye and give him all his truths right here and now, if only to save him the trouble of searching for something he'll never find.]
[Homunculi didn't leave anything behind, in the end. Save the ash of it, the ash they've ever been, thinning away as chaste and fleeting as snow.]
[But he can't. Because, for as much as the man might not care, for as much as the man might forget his face and wash his hands clean of all of it, part of him. Ah, well. Sometimes the mercy is the things left in the dark.]
Sorry, schatz. That's for me to know. [The Sin hums, thoughtfully, as he flips his cigar between his knuckles. He shoves the hot end against the building not a moment later, snuffing it out in a dance of twinkling soot. No, that's a part of the story he refuses to give, no matter how many times he's asked. The sewer hadn't been his only end, and it wouldn't be his last. However, one thing is true.]
[There's no going back for him, and he'd gladly do it again. Gladly throw all of his bet on the slim chance that his make it to a better day.]
[Greed nudges his cigar into his back pocket and with a dip of his chin, he latches both his arms up and around the outside of the window sill.] Don't lose sleep on it. [He chides back. A subtle, soft, but no less nipping scolding in return.] It won't come back on you and Jinx, so it doesn't matter. 'Sides, it takes a lot more actually kill me, Sil. [Before, at least. Here, he's not so sure.]
I'll make sure it doesn't take any skin off your back, if that's what you're worried about. [With a tight squeeze of his stomach, he flips over to examine the outside of the building and its pock-marked face. Complicated. Everything is so complicated and no matter how hard he tries, the note from his side of the tether betrays him. Its small notion as soft as a pin, dropped in the noise of a swift retreat.]
[The former homunculus grins (shark-toothed and wild), and the sensation dies.] Eat, rest up, and let me worry about the details. [His hands move while he talks, latching onto a ledge of brick poking out of the side wall.] Need your pretty head screwed on tight, Sil. Better that way. [Perhaps, he doesn't realize it. Or maybe, it's been done on purpose. Whatever the case, while he is obviously planning his exit, there are things he's leaving behind. The gifts, the trinkets. His boots and vest, a signature to everything he is. It could all be nothing, but for a man who wants everything, the gesture isn't a quiet one:]
["I'll be back, whether you like it or not."]
[Greed grunts, pulling himself halfway out of the window. His wings weigh him down, but with his thighs spread and his grip on the building, he manages to keep himself from falling.] A pleasure, as always, Silco.
[And with that, he releases. The sounds of him (chains jangling, claws scratching, leather whining) slipping through the frame as smooth as a reaper's ghost. He takes flight not too soon after; the low laugh in his chest seeming to chase him like a bolt of lightning, echoed in thunder.]
[And as he disappears, there's something else he leaves behind. The faint kiss of tobacco, avarice's incense, hallowing its own, holy(ed) ground.]