[ For all that Silco has no mental defenses, no abilities that attune him to the timbre of the room or the people within it, he still senses the cloud, the shadow that it casts over their conversation. But he doesn't look away, doesn't flinch.

(It's painful, that Koby cares so much. His earnestness pierces through his expression like sunlight through a gap in the clouds. He'd been like that once, too, hadn't he?)

There's an honest answer, here — that all people are capable of hurting each other, regardless of connection or intention. That's not, he expects, the answer that Koby really wants to hear, so he lets it go, a glint of light against the hard edges of his mind. ]

Jinx has grown quite fond of you — all of you, [ he begins, each word measured. ] That's my only concern.

[ For better or worse, that's honest, too; clear in a way that a simpering of course it doesn't isn't. And the implication is obvious enough — anyone who holds her favor holds his, or at least the impression of it, and anyone who'd dare to hurt her will answer to him. Unusually honest, for him, but it's an equivalent exchange, in his eyes, as well as a measure of gaining the boy's trust. ]

And besides, we guests all share the same plight. Best not to turn ourselves against each other.

[ For now. ]