[He can feel that pulsing beat under his fingers - a short time ago, he was feeding on that very neck with that beat thrumming through his skin. It distracts him, for a moment, and the man's movement that seems to lean into it, encouraging him, simply doesn't help.]

[What does he fear, himself? He doesn't know, hasn't dwelt on it, buried it like he did with every other emotion in his sad little barren garden where flowers once had grown. No, he knows what he fears, he simply won't look it in the eye. How ironic. His fear is to lose. He lost so many, he lost at his own battles, and he's afraid to lose again, because every time he does, its by his own hands. It's the very notion of it that drives him forward, cuts off his own connections, even if he's ever so bad at that last part.]

[The man asks if he wants to belong to someone. Does he? He tilts his head, hair falling a little over those eyes that flicker to the other's hand now. It's funny, how much Silco says with his hands.]

[Is that real understanding?]

[His own thumb rolls up the other's Adam's apple, his own breath coming out in a low sigh.]

...My karma will leave me at the bottom of the sea, alone. So no. I won't belong to anyone. Such is the nature of what I have done.

[He doesn't deserve to belong to anyone.]

[Humanity shouldn't connect with a monster like him.]