Silasโ Catharsis
Stylus. Silas exhales with the slightest quirk of his lips at the play on his name. He ainโt heard that one before. Better than Vicis speaking his name like heโs testing it and Silas as a whole. Or he isnโt and Silas just feels paranoid with the way he moves like heโs trying to intimidate him or assert some sorta dominance.
To be fair, the sort of inhuman way he consumed his dinner wasโฆ Interesting. What is he? A snake? He ate it like one would to a rat. Whatever. This place is clearly not normal considering what he said.
โWhat led you to this merry little circle of monsters?โ
Monsters. Literally? Silas wonders on that, especially when he mentions Damien coming from Hell. Literally?
โฆ Whatever.
โMmโฆ I dunno,โ Silas says eloquently. Thatโs not good enough. He decides to recount his whole entrance in more detail, words just slightly jumbled together, โI jusโ sorta got to the doors with a killer migraine โnd shit โ still have head pain by the way โ โnd went to the bar, chick stole my drink, now Iโm here with yโtwo fine gents.โ
Though, he spares a glance at the childish neon bandaids still adorning his fingers and such while wrapped around his glass, the bruises on his knuckles. Maybe he's here for another reason entirely, but honestly, he sorta doesn't wanna think about it just yet. After his drink perhaps. Or another. It depends.
