[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
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.]