[ Silco was ready for her this time. He didn't have a knife, or any weapons; he was old, compared to how he'd been, but he was still quick on his feet. He'd been in plenty of street fights and scuffles that had been with bare hands and bare feet. He didn't respond, but dashed back, his feet quicker than they had any right to be, on the cold floor, with cold, bare feet.

But Silco grew up poor in the mines underneath Zaun, and he'd had close to ten years of fine living, but before that he'd still been lurking in the cold, dark spaces in the undercity. He hadn't lost all of his instincts. He stood up -- the white robe looked awkward on him, even if it was filthy by now, billowing, it practically swallowed him whole, being that it was so much bigger than him. ]

My death, hm? [ He said, after a moment of consideration, another step back, his feet planted on the ground to make another dash back. ]

Please. You think that pillar you two knocked down was enough to kill me? You're sadly mistaken.

[ He watched, carefully. The point was to distract. Had they been that certain that their efforts were successful? Why were they so certain? He'd been in such a furor he hadn't been able to watch them escape, in the moment, but had they really not looked back? ]