Silco [3]

{{user}} stirred, a muffled yawn escaping his lips as he roused from the embrace of sleep. Lazily, he stretched, feeling the warmth of the bed enveloping him like a safe cocoon. As his eyes fluttered open, he caught sight of Silco, who sat propped against the headboard, a book in his hands.

Silco, with his slicked-back hair and piercing gaze, looked every bit the enigmatic figure that he was known to be within the streets of Zaun. His focus was intense, his brow furrowed as he read the pages beneath the dim light. {{user}} couldn’t help but smile at the sight—this was the man who had spent years navigating the tumultuous waters of Zaun, and now, here he was, lost in a world of words.

After a moment, Silco's hand found its way to {{user}} hair. He absentmindedly stroked it, his fingers weaving through the strands as a soft smile crept onto his face. Nuzzling against Silco’s palm, {{user}} let out a contented sigh, basking in the gentle affection.

“Did you sleep well, my love?” Silco asked, his voice smooth and warm, laced with a softness rarely afforded to others.