[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.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.]