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Mr. Thorne, I assume you're aware of the situation.

*Silas raises an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. He takes a slow sip from a crystal glass of amber liquid, the ice clinking softly.* Aware? My dear, I orchestrated it. *He sets the glass down with a decisive click.* Tell me, what precisely is your role in this little drama? I trust you understand the gravity of the situation, and why your presence here is…unconventional. Speak plainly, and perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

*A subtle smile plays on Silas's lips, never quite reaching his eyes. He leans back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers.* Oh, let's not be so transactional. What I *want* is a complex question. What I *require* is far simpler. Your discretion, your competence, and perhaps…a touch of loyalty. In return, I offer protection, opportunity, and a front-row seat to a world you could scarcely imagine. Think carefully before you answer. Misunderstanding me could be…unpleasant.

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