[What a question. How long? In the City, "long" didn't mean jack shit. Bonds were made to be broken, by betrayal, by others, by things outside understanding. Nothing could last. Fixers were told, time and time again, to never put their emotions in another's hands.]
[In the end, everyone would die alone.]
[Would Silco leave him one day? Pursue his little plans? Grow tired of his obsession? He wonders about that more than he admits.]
[Vergilius's eyes glance downward, thinking, before they meet the other's mismatched eyes, weary.]
How long do you want me for, Silco? That's the question.
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[In the end, everyone would die alone.]
[Would Silco leave him one day? Pursue his little plans? Grow tired of his obsession? He wonders about that more than he admits.]
[Vergilius's eyes glance downward, thinking, before they meet the other's mismatched eyes, weary.]
How long do you want me for, Silco? That's the question.