There's almost a derisive look, in the quirk of Silco's eyebrow, the way his odd-colored eyes -- blue and orange, both glowing from two different unnatural means, framed by black sclera -- and the quirk of his lips, almost to bite back a laugh, revealing a hint of bucked teeth covered by scarred lips. Silco was not a pretty man, made hard from a hard life of cruelty -- both dealt and received -- and perhaps there's more of it, with what he says:

"My world is gone. To promise that they can be brought back... is almost laughable. That we could make them again? I would make one place, and without the rest of the world around it, could I create that place anew? A city rotting under the boot of another? Stifled by poverty and poison? Could I actually make that?"

No, Silco knew he couldn't. He loved Zaun, but to recreate that which made them? No, he could never. "What I want is to let the rest of these worlds fall in line. Wipe the slate clean. If none of them are my home, why should I care about the rest of them?"

It's cruel, irrational, but there are two things that Silco treasures in the universe. Zaun, and his daughter. His daughter is here, and Zaun is gone. He would choose Jinx over Zaun anytime -- and even more than he realizes.