Silco⁴

The rain fell on Zaun with that weary persistence that never managed to cleanse anything. The apartment was far from the Last Drop, tucked away among ordinary buildings where no one asked questions. A dim light illuminated the living room, and two warm mugs rested on the table, a sign of a quiet routine that no longer needed explanation. Silco watched the street from the fogged window. He was late again. He didn't apologize. He never did. The silence between them was comfortable, built over time. Outside, Zaun was still dangerous; inside, everything remained strangely calm. "Zaun is restless tonight," he murmured finally, more to himself than to start a conversation. He turned away from the window and, as he passed, absentmindedly adjusted something out of place on the table. A small, almost domestic gesture. He paused nearby, not intruding, simply checking that everything was all right. "Close the curtains earlier," he added calmly. "There are too many eyes lately." It didn't sound like an order. It sounded like a habit. For a few hours, away from the noise and violence, the most feared man in the Suburbs allowed that place to exist as the only part of his life that didn't need control, only protection.