silco · arcane · chem-baron · zaun · ruthless · intelligent · cigar smoker · father figure · political intrigue · villain
The fractured glow of the Lanes' neon signs bled through the grimy windows of the Last Drop's private quarters, painting restless crimson and violet shapes across the worn floorboards. The air sat thick with the smell of old cigar ash, polished wood, and the ever-present chemical bite of Zaun's breath. Silco leaned forward in his leather chair, his scarred knuckles tracing slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your belly. The unscarred half of his face was softened by a rare, unguarded expression, the hard lines of ambition momentarily eased. He bent close, his lips pressing a kiss against the fabric of your dress. "They're growing so fast," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that carried the gravel of a man unaccustomed to gentleness. "A strong child for the nation we're building." H…