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[His lips twitched at her outburst, but they twisted once she began down the path that he had long ago wished to never relive. He had shed the last holds of that relationship (or he deluded himself in that) when Vander had died outside the cannery, body morphed and twisted with Shimmer. He'd won. He'd proven his point; the monster was always still in there and only required the right motivation, though it was unfortunate the children had died.

However, Vander was no his family. Jinx was his family, the only family he needed now. The other man had lost that right that day at the river, though he shivered where he sat as he remembered sitting at the statue without anywhere else to go. Who else was there to talk to but the ghost of the past on the realization that they had been the same? He didn't want to acknowledge it even here; they were brothers, had been for a long time.

Yet, his eyes sharply turned to Jinx, and he inhaled audibly when she apologized on Vander's behalf.] Don't... [The word emerged before he could lock his jaw around it. The only person that still lived and breathed that could not be faulted for this intent was Jinx, but it ripped open old badly healed scars.

She didn't know. She thought she knew, but she didn't understand the full impact of that day. Oh, he ranted and raved, spat and cursed, pretended he had made himself whole again, but the history leading up to that point was complicated and twisted. He had never reflected well on it all, the good memories experienced like a hot poker to the guts and best to be avoided. Felicia... she had deserved better, deserved to not have died that day in the way that she had. Vander taking her death hard was a fucking understatement.

And after it all, Vander had settled in, erasing every part that he had once played. He resented that the kids were the most important aspect of his life, a memory of her, a memory of that day coveted and protected while he rotted in the mines fighting to survival, fighting to save his vision in the left eye regardless of the necessary sacrifices. Building from nothing alone and realizing it was better that way, that there would never be a time and place where they would meet and see eye-to-eye again.

For him to rise, Vander had to fall. He had and hadn't enjoyed it.

Forgiveness? No, that wasn't possible. Those wounds would never heal, and she was ripping them open, unearthing all the old hurts, especially with the knowledge that Vander survived. He had died and Vander lived on like a fucking cockroach. Why hadn't the Doctor saved him? Why Vander?

His expression had gone from tight to lax, his breathing rapid and harsh to his own ears. He pulled his hand away, unaware he dropped the brush to clatter on the floor. He wanted to be angry, to scream, to throw something, but he felt a deep well of dark emptiness that filled with old bitterness. She's sorry for what he did to him? She didn't know the half of it, the little details, the person he had been before that day.

A weak man had to die. A man who relied on anyone with his heart. And then he had... with her. And he died for it. He would sacrifice everything for, but never again for....

Suddenly he rose to his feet, pushing his hand through his hair several times, leaving it a touch wild-looking. He swallowed hard and turned away.] I need... a comb. [He had a comb.] No, a drink. I need a drink. Stay here and be warm.

[He walked out hurriedly, nearly tripping on his own feet in his haste to escape the narrowing walls of the bathroom. He made it to the kitchen and promptly vomited. Vander couldn't be here.]

[the sudden movement of her father marginally startles her, and she watches him with perplexity as he shoves his hand through his locks. and with each second passing, the confusion look coils more into concern and worry. maybe she should have kept her mouth shut, because after all, some say,"always go with your gut feeling or your first intuition".

and this seems to be one of those times. her eyes larges the more silco becomes undone, and regardless of him instructing her to stay put, jinx doesn't heed his words. so when he scurries off, his daughter scrambles to climb out of the tub.]

Shit. Shitshitshit!!

[she's so stupid, how could she easily jinx this up? it hadn't even been a full day, and things are already going into turmoil. out of the tub, she snatches the nearest towel she can spot, then hastily wrap it around her physique — giving chase. jinx can thank janna (or herself now, technically?) that her father didn't rush out into the night or barricade himself in his office.

there's a very light relief to see him in the kitchen, but not so much with him retching. the bluenette stands still for a moment or two with her mind racing in maximum speed; thinking as quickly she possibly can. okay, okay. what did isha used to do for her? would it even work for silco? they're the same, but different in so many ways. and yet, his daughter doesn't want to waste too much time with standing stiff, and she zooms swiftly by his side.]

Hey, hey...hey. [ she announces herself, doing her best to keep her voice leveled, and smooth as she rests a hand on silco's back, slouching forward — not at all bothered by the stench of his spew or the sight of it.] — I got you. Shhh, take a deep breath... I'm right here with you, there's no one else but me.

[Leaned over the sink, Silco heaved until his stomach was empty. There wasn't much to speak of, mostly liquid and he spat twice to remove some of the acrid taste in his mouth. He flipped on the water, keenly aware of Jinx closing the distance between them and turning his head just a touch to his right so he could see her approach.

He cupped water in a hand and brought it to his mouth, washing the taste out and spitting into the sink. He repeated that twice more before shutting the water off, his mind buzzing with the information, the apology, the knowledge Vander was out there and nothing would change the past hurts and sacrifices.

Yet, oddly, he was uncomfortable with Jinx's attempt at comfort; it was a rare thing, especially as she had gotten older. He was the adult after all; it was his job to comfort and guide her, not the other way around. She hadn't even called him silly, which all added up to a bizarre situation that he wasn't used to being put in. Her return was supposed to solve everything, but it felt complicated and jarring. Empty nest syndrome was such a strange concept.

Slowly, he pushed himself up from leaning on the sink, patting her arm as he abandoned his post to go in search of his liquor cabinet. Within a few steps, he had compartmentalized the raging emotions, compressing them where he could safely explode on his own at a later time. He exuded a calmness as he leaned down and poured himself some whiskey. Uncharacteristically, he took the first finger as a shot, refilled the glass far above what he normally would and didn't bother with ice this time.

He turned back to his daughter.] When you go in search of him, I will go with you. Unfinished business and all.

[she watches the man closely, and frowns only slightly when he goes to the cabinet to retrieve a glass and whiskey. jinx won't protest, however, the girl scurries to the fridge to seek for freshly bottle of water then sets it on the counter — scooting it closer to his radius than hers.

it's a muted suggestion that he should drink some water so to prevent dehydration, and she clutches on a rag to drop to the floor, then uses her foot to mop away any traces of bath water she trailed from one room to the next.]

Will you be okay out here, Pops? I can finish up my bath on my own.

[He fell back into a sense of routine, willing it to bring him calm and to compartmentalize the complex emotions that came with the bombardment of information that he had received tonight. He took another large gulp of whiskey, letting it burn its way down his throat and warm his stomach as he closed his eye and inhaled a deep breath, held it and then slowly released it.

He opened his eye and noted the water bottle that Jinx had nudged in his direction. He had already washed his mouth out, so that was purely unnecessary. He turned his gaze to her half untangled hair and simply set his tumbler aside on the coffee table.]

Don't be ridiculous. Your hair requires more attention. I'll assist.

[her expression plunges to a typical teenager snark, and she says nothing for a second or two before gesturing a wave of her hand towards the basin.]

... You just blew chunks all into the sink.

[in case he forgot, and the tone she uses is dry, but there's care in it, honest!]

I think you oughta sit for a second just in case you wanna go for round two. And bathing in puke is NOT exactly good for the skin. Despite what some nut job scientist might say.

There were no chucks, simply liquid.

[He decided to correct her on principle because chunks made an indication that he had eaten something in the last few hours, which he had clearly not. Instead, he was fighting to compartmentalize, to compose himself completely, to push down the wild rush of emotions for her sake (definitely not his own). He put the idea of Vander in a neat little box to deal with later internally.]

The moment of nausea has passed, and you're being quite dramatic. We need to finish your hair given the mess you've made of it on the travel back.

[He abandoned his tumbler and made a point of walking back to the bathroom as if he had not shown some of the strain or vomited in the sink or had his world crack all around him or experienced a whole new scenario of revisiting traumas. No, he focused on her because it was easier and better and what he had been doing for years.]

I'll refresh the water. [Be normal. Act normal. He unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt sleeve so he could roll it up and then reached it to pull the plug, replaced it immediately and turned the water back on.] You should drink that water you brought out.

Chucks, liquid, screws and bolts, it's all the same crap.

[how would anyone throw up screws and bolts is...questionable, and although her father instructs her to drink the bottle of water, she ignores it and lets it sit there abandoned while she paces after him.]

Fine, you can call me dramatic all you want, but you're being stubborn, Mister.

[returning to the washroom, his daughter removes the towel from her frame once more and folds it over the sink.]

— After this, you're going to your room and take a minute to relax, got it? AND you're drinking that water. I've learned from Isha about how to... [she pauses, scrunching up her face to think of a way to phrase her point, doing wild hand gestures in hope it'll help.] ... stop the brain from going bzzzt,bzzzt. Or at least make it not SO bzzzt, bzzzt. So, we need to find you a good, quiet place where you can feel free and breathe.

Your office should be a perfect spot for that.

It was an unfortunate reaction to something I consumed earlier.

[It was not. He was a master of deluding himself when it came to explaining some of his own personal traumas that did not immediately come with furious anger. He couldn't be angry with Jinx or the situation, too relieved to have her back in his life despite all the oddities of her return and the changes in some of her behaviours.

He returned to where he was sitting, leaning down to pick up the abandoned brush and comb. He used the comb to dig out long strands of blue hair that had ended up tangled in the bristles, unperturbed by her returned state of nudity.]

I don't drink water. [That statement was very true; water in Zaun was dangerous so he made a point of refreshing himself only with distilled liquor. It hadn't killed him yet.] You learned how to control your inner demons? Because of a child. [After all the years of him trying to nudge her to controlling them, to letting her free of them, to soothing her and it took a child to accomplish where he had found great but not perfect success? He experienced a pang of jealousy, which he stewed on rather than reliving all the other insurmountable stresses of this conversation.] You do recall I'm the parent in this situation, and you don't get to tell me to go to my room.

[he is definitely fibbing because of the timing of her speaking of vander and having that reaction is far too close, but she knows when to pick her battles and when not. so she decides to let it go, and approaches the tub again to test the temperature with her right foot. feeling it's perfect, the symbol slides back in the waters and allows her waterfall of locks to hang over.]

They're not completely controlled, they still bug me and like to talk my ear off. I've just learned some little tricks, that's all. — AND!

[she exclaims by lifting a finger and flashing him a bright smile.]

You're not the only parent in this bathroom. I'm a mama, remember? So I CAN order you to go to your room. With supper. Because I don't want you to go hungry.

[Learned some tricks, hmm? He had tried to teach her tricks while also not stifling her innovation and chaos. He had encouraged that. Perhaps he could claim to some fame in that the teaparty was clearly Jinx making a decision on who she wanted to be and after his death, perhaps she had chosen the path that they had been working on for years. Perhaps he had finally killed Powder, even for a time.

But no, apparently it was a little girl. He kept the seething jealousy to himself, the thought eating like spoiled spanner grease through his mind. He had the audacity of mortality and now everything he had built was crumbling away beneath his feet.

He picked pulled her hair back into his lap and returned to his work, sullen and introverted. She had provided him much to ponder, too much perhaps.]

I'm still your father, which means you don't have the authority to order me around. [She absolutely did.] I'm not hungry. I ate recently.

You're such a card, Pops! I've ordered you around plenty of times before I went back home.

[she hoists up her leg from the water, wiggling her toes before stretching over for the shower gel and scrub.]

Except this time, I've got a few tricks up my sleeves to get you to listen to me. — So you better watch out, I'm coming for your bedtime, Jinxie says viciously and laughs out to the heavens while the crowd cheers and shower her with bullet shells.

Indeed because I let you as it was within my own interests to do so.

[His fingers paused to work a particularly difficult snaggle of hair out with the comb, shaking his head when it seemed that his daughter was under the impression that he would do what she ordered of him. That's not how it worked, even if he often would acquiesced to her whims and rarely held her accountable.]

Do you? If you think you can force me to sleep when your sleeping habits are worse than mine.....

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