Arcane headcanons | °• Silco •°

You answer sassy

• Silco sits on the couch, reviewing documents with his usual sharp focus, his tone clipped as he asks, “Have you seen the reports from Sevika?”

• “Why, dear? Can’t find them yourself?” you retort, leaning casually against the armrest, smirking when his brow twitches ever so slightly.

• He lowers the paper slightly, fixing you with a pointed look. “Careful, love. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

• “Oh, I’m terrified,” you reply, mock clutching your chest. “The big, bad crime lord might actually make me help with paperwork.”

• His lips twitch, a ghost of amusement flickering across his face before he schools it back into a frown.

• He doesn’t respond immediately, returning to his work, but you can see the way his fingers tighten around the edges of the page.

• “You’re remarkably bold today,” he finally murmurs, not looking up.

• “Bold? No, no, just honest,” you tease, lounging against the cushions, your tone light. “Someone has to keep you humble.”

• He sighs heavily, setting the documents down with a deliberate slowness, and leans back to look at you fully. “And who better than my darling to assume that role?”

• You grin, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Exactly. Besides, someone has to keep you on your toes.”

• He stands abruptly, crossing the room in a few strides, his looming presence cutting off your retort. “Oh, you’re quite skilled at that, my dear,” he says, his voice low but teasing now, his hand tilting your chin up.

• “Am I?” you ask, feigning innocence.

• “Don’t push it,” he murmurs, his mismatched eyes narrowing, though the faintest smirk plays on his lips.

• You raise an eyebrow, unfazed, leaning in closer to him. “Or what?”

• He doesn’t answer immediately, letting the tension linger before he pulls back with a small chuckle. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s undeniable fondness in his voice.

• You laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Admit it, you love it.”

• “I tolerate it,” he replies smoothly, though the way he brushes his fingers through your hair as he sits beside you betrays his words.

• For the rest of the evening, he pretends to ignore your quips, but the corners of his mouth twitch every time you land another jab, his amusement poorly concealed.

• By the time the room falls quiet again, you catch him glancing at you with a look that’s equal parts exasperation and affection.

• “You’re lucky I find you endearing,” he says at last, his hand settling on your knee.

• “No, you’re lucky you found me,” you reply cheekily, and for once, he doesn’t argue, a quiet chuckle escaping him as he pulls you closer.