Silco turns and regards his coughing fit impassively. "You really are one of us," he remarks: Pilties don't get sick like that, don't need canes unless they're fresh from some ridiculous cosmetic surgery. Viktor's breathed too much of the Zaun Grey, and it pleases him.

"But it doesn't matter now. Zaun, Piltover ... those aren't this city." And he likes having information over someone who could be useful. "Perhaps another time, I'll share my vision with you." If Viktor proves himself worthy, something in his tone says. If he proves he can be trusted.