[ Silco's eyes tip upward toward the sign, and then back to Atsumu. Lit by the too-bright light of the eye behind him — making a somewhat short and rather dumpy-looking building look sleeker — Silco's eye almost glows brighter in this dim underground. Kowloon was dank, and dark, but it was not slovenly like Zaun was. It isn't a place where it looks like men barely scrape, where people starve. Oh, they have their complaints, but it is not like this.

His lips curl into a slight smile. ]

My nightclub, yes.

[ He says, as if there is a difference, and perhaps there is to him. ]

There are some things that we cannot get away from, when we arrived in Kenos — or Horos — he pointed out. Atsumu had met Silco early on in one of those clubs, where he had schmoozed the owner into giving them free passage. Silco had... deteriorated somewhat, since then, hadn't he? Became more violent, more driven, less of a handle on his own sanity, the more that Zenith ate away at him, the more his daughter's revival seemed out of reach...

He blinked his single eye, but then tipped his attention back to Atsumu. ]

Isn't it ironic, that of all the places, the Advocate dumped us here first? Have you enjoyed the sights?

[ The run down buildings, the piles of trash, the pipes that pump the sump from Piltover down to the undercity. There are no sewers topside, it just pumps everything down. ]