[ He had not faltered through all of this. It had been something of an impulse, the moment Vergilius had decided to insult them as lesser, he'd thought to prove it to him, but he'd not even had to get so far as to force anything down his throat. Vergilius had don't that all on his own, and wasn't that the whole point? That he was just ready to break free, if only he let himself. If only he didn't fret, and let his impulse run wild?

He could feel his wrists nearly crack under the force of his grip. A part of him — that part he spends so much energy wrangling — feels a flutter of fear at the crushing weight on his wrists, on him pinning himself down, and the sharp, cruel smile on his lips.

There it is. There he is, the real monster lying in hibernation, waiting to be let free. ]

Would you?

[ He asks, still on the floor and in fully prime position to get locked up, if he was going to do so. His strength is nothing like his, after all. He may have some minor improvements, but Silco hadn't been strong before, not like that. Not like he'd needed to be.

So the second dig forces him to falter, just briefly. Slightly. His lips twitch, as if he's fighting a grimace, a snarl, a smile — maybe all of them. He remembered the high of living like a vampire, how invulnerable he felt, how he felt like he could finally actually stand toe-to-to with the rest of them. How he hated feeling so weak, and vulnerable once again. How power only came if one took it, and he'd known that he would have to do something to make it through this kaiju once more. How could he have done anything else?

What power could he have that Vergilius saw? One that he was blind to? ]

You are no more a slave than I am.

[ He says, if just to drag it out, like if he waited, he could figure out what he meant. ]

Is it not better to be sturdier, or stronger? What power do I have that this does not make better?

[ Is it really asking what he meant, if it's a statement? ]