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"I wouldn't have thought of that. Fuck, if it had been me in there I would'a died for sure."
"You're a huge slab of meat." Silco muttered, spitting blood into an enamel-peeling sink, prodding his chipped front teeth with his tongue and wincing. "Fists and batons just bounce off of you."
Vander, half his face swollen from multiple unavoidable blows, sat fully clothed in an empty bathtub. One pant leg was rolled up to the knee as he washed and sutured a thumb-length gash on his calf. The medical supplies (always carried on person) were laid out in a neat line of the rim of the tub, with the curved needle (cleaned with Silco’s lighter) pre-threaded for emergencies. Silco took a piece of gauze and sat on the dusty floor beside Vander, pressing it to his bleeding teeth.
Vander pretended to take insult from Silco’s comment. His sense of humor was starting to come back.
"Did you just call me a slab 'o meat, you twiggy skeleton?"
"A sawed-off chunk of cow ass left in the sun." Silco’s voice was slurred from the gauze in his mouth.
"Wha- this cow ass just saved your life! I oughta pound you one!"
"You can try, Bessie. I'll stick you with my rat teeth. Give you the… dying disease."
Vander threw his head back in a throaty, open mouthed laugh. Silco flinched as it echoed off the walls of the small tiled room. He smiled, but didn’t laugh. If anyone had asked, he would probably say he couldn’t remember any point in his life where he laughed the way Vander was doing just now, not even in childhood. That realization would have frightened him.
Vander wiped his face on his sleeve and leaned forward again, pinching the skin on his calf together and inserted the needle without flinching. “At least we got the loot fine.”
Silco gave the four canvas sacks in front of him a kick. “Good idea checking the wine cellar. I honestly thought Pilties only kept wine in those things. Shows how much I know about how the other half lives, eh?” He nodded in the direction of Vander’s leg wound. “You, uh, want me to help you with that?”
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for going with me on this one. You’re the best raid partner I’ve had yet.”
“I am?” Asked Silco, brightening. He could count the number of compliments he’s received in his lifetime on one hand.
“Well, sure. You’re fast, you spot things I wouldn’t, like that loose floorboard for example. It’s like you can pay attention to five things at once. it’s pretty wild, in fact - you with your eyes darting around like a hawk while I’m just barreling forward. Not to mention your skinny rear got no problem skirtin’ around those ledges. Can’t take Benzo - the fat lard just falls off ledges.”
Silco snickered at the image of his longtime bully crashing onto a patrol of enforcers.
“So… you think we make a good team?”
“Hell, the BEST team, I’d say.”
These words, these seven simple words, embroidered themselves onto Silco’s heart. He grinned in Vander’s validation, exposing the bloody broken front teeth that now only throbbed. And Vander, so his credit, took notice.
“You really think we’ll ever achieve independence from Piltover?”
“Yes.” Said Silco without hesitation, his heart dancing with Vander’s previous statement.
“How?”
“We’ll force them to listen.”
“Yeah, but how? You can’t even get the people here to listen.”
“I can’t, but WE can. People like you, Vander. You’re the big friendly welcoming front who handles public relations and I’m-”
“- the creepy smart guy in the back coming up with the plans doing all the real work.”
Silco paused. After Vander’s previous kindness he wasn’t sure how to interpret a statement like that.
“I… I guess? That’s not how I would have put it…”
“It’s rough humor, lad.” Vander reached over and tapped Silco in the head with one knuckle. He did it significantly gentler than he did with anyone else. “I’m saying that we make a good team. I’m good with people but crap with actually going through with long term plans. You’ve chewed me out over it plenty of times. You’re great with plans and executing them and complete shite with people. We’re like… two things that fit together well. I don’t know, I’m bad with metaphors.”
“Okay…. Okay! Yes, that’s exactly… pretty much what I meant.”
Silco laughed nervously. He didn’t laugh often. He doesn’t laugh anymore.