[ Despite being so spooked in the hallway, Silco only stared at him in that odd way he did, silent for a long moment, his two-toned gaze evaluating. Like he was reading the situation, or trying to read something out of him.

He does want to pull him apart. That hasn't changed. If anything, knowing more just makes him more curious, more driven to get his bony fingers beneath his skin and tug him open. Like he's looking to crack him open to find the meat inside to pull it out and reshape him.

All he had to do was let him.]

So? Don't give me the neat answer. If I were interested in tidy stories, would I tell you mine, raw wound as it is?

[ Devoid of context though it was, but still, he pushed, not swayed by being brushed off. Sorry, Vergilius, he has the scent of you now.]