[ Normally, Silco feels of anger, hatred, and resentment. A simple emotional drive for a man so thoroughly obsessed with getting what he wanted, for who he wanted it for. To feel him drive against his mental walls and doors so ferociously was — surprising, and real in a way few could comprehend. He pries them open from where Silco had thrown his mind against them, feeling the anguish as if it were his own; a wild, ugly, heartfelt thing that fills him like teeth-chattering cold. He'd felt it just earlier on, in fact. Wild and desperate, on behalf of his own child.

He knows his alliance for what it is. A vow to be a path for Silco, even after he'd shed, ignored, and destroyed all others. Someone who will watch over his daughter, though Silco won't watch over his own. Won't even change his mind for Set. ]

Let me conclude my work, I will be there.

[ His work in the Church, he means.

It's easy to get into Kowloon. Silco gave him access to his private Cornerstone, tucked away in his office. That is how he gets there, through that connection, entering the office where he expects his partner to be waiting. His hands extended, seeking something forbidden to all others. Reaching, the moment he spots Silco, to press a palm to his scarred cheek — firm, steady. ]

What is it, Silco? Kowloon is where you want it. War has begun to blossom. You are —

[ He knows what this is. Why he'd be so distressed. ]

What happened to her?