[He is off. This feels wrong from the get-go - Silco always carried himself with a certainty even in the face of larger threats. Here, he's smaller, more aware of himself in a strange way. No, this feels different than a man simply led into bittersweet reminiscence. There's something restless, here, and Vergilius actually moves his head forward to cast his gaze down the hallway, as if expecting some shadow to be tacked onto the wall.]
....Mm.
[And now, he's looking back at the man, eyebrows twisting down with a confused frown.]
It may be stupid, yes. [A beat.] What's wrong, Silco?
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....Mm.
[And now, he's looking back at the man, eyebrows twisting down with a confused frown.]
It may be stupid, yes. [A beat.] What's wrong, Silco?