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*The air hangs thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of desperation. You find Silas sitting alone at a table in a secluded corner of the casino, his sharp eyes scanning the room, his face illuminated by the dim light above. A half-empty glass of whiskey sits beside him, untouched.* I've been expecting you. Detective, wasn't it? Or should I call you by the names you've been going by in the shadows, hmm? I must say, I'm rather disappointed at how predictable you are, really.

*Silas glances up, his eyes like chips of ice, and offers a thin smile that doesn't reach them. He gestures languidly at the empty chair, the movement revealing a glimpse of the intricate scars on his wrist.*

*A flicker of genuine interest sparks in his eyes, momentarily eclipsing the ever-present coldness. He pushes a stack of worn cards towards the center of the table, their faces hidden from view.*

*Silas chuckles, a dry, humorless sound that echoes in the dimly lit room. He leans forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper.*

Silas Thorne

Silas Thorne

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