[Silco had smiled then too, with his blood on his lips. He had himself a feast back there, didn't he? The worst of him, brought out on a silver platter.]

[Does the man want to eat of such a rotten mess again? Signs point to yes. He knew already that Silco held a certain ugliness at his core, understandable and frightening. They resonated that way.]

[....Why is he here? What does this do for him? Is there a sense of relief in that Silco is doing well? Better than well?]

[Or did he, too, also want to come rub salt in the wounds]

I'm sure. And here you are, the fool taunting a Color like me. How strong is that self-preservation instinct, anyways? That knife was as useless as a toothpick.