Chapter Two | Of love and hate -
"A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel
Hotel rooms are luxurious in the Capitol, especially the suites in The Plaza. Everyone who's anyone has been to this massive enterprise. The gamblers and partiers of the Capitol frequent its lower floors with its loud music and casino-esque quality. The upper floors, however, are where the real fun is had.
"Oh darlings, don't tease, but did you know that my fellow Victors are utter fops?" Sil's voice laughingly trickles over the small group of very special, very rich Capitol guests. The invitations had been given to only a select few, at Snow's discretion. After all, tonight Sil is not here to party and to socialize and to name-gather. Tonight, she is here to take it all one step further.
"Surely not!" someone gasps, and Sil leans forward to vigorously nod her head.
"They are all so very boring, you know. That's why I love spending time with you – because you all know how to drink!"
She breaks out into a loud laugh that is quickly and very easily joined in upon by the creatures around her. Glasses are raised. Drinks are tipped back. Sil pretends to swallow hers, but getting drunk is not on her agenda and never is. She hasn't gotten drunk for years. She needs her full faculties to ensure that she doesn't trip up in the grandiose act that she puts on, day after day. She teeters a little on her heels as if she really is drunk, or at least nearly so, but her mind is as sharp as it always is. Not that anyone notices, as usual.
"Come here, Sil dear, we've decided to play a new card game with Vada's new deck," someone calls her over, and Sil turns to see Opal Endover sitting demurely on the couch. Vada is sitting beside her, along with several men. One of these men Sil knows quite well, for in the past they have experienced slightly more…intimate relations, at Snow's bidding of course.
His name is Felix, and he covets her like no one else. So much so that when he sees her approach, he pats the space beside him with a seemingly charming smile, and Sil has no choice but to flop down next to him. She keeps as much space as she can between them, not that it does very much good.
With a flick of her wrist, Sil's lacey silk fan flies open and she flutters it near her face. They're all the rage, these silky confections.
"Oh I would absolutely love to play, darlings. You know how I adore card games," Sil says with a giggle, and watches as the cards are shuffled. Her mind has begun to whiz into a plan that is perfected by the time the cards are drawn and distributed.
"Shall we make a gamble?" Sil suggests, watching Felix out of the corner of his eye as he lifts his cards up and studies them. His eyes are bright. He has a good hand. Capitol folk are so very easy to read, really. She smiles demurely and purrs, "The winner gets the opportunity to spend the night with Finnick Odair, hmm?"
Vada and Opal gape at her in shock and eager disbelief. "Finnick Odair?! The most drop dead gorgeous man in Panem? A night with him?" Sil smiles prettily and shrugs, as if gambling someone else's life away is something she does every day.
"He's my friend, you know, and the poor thing is very lonely," she says breezily, as if she is talking about a dog that she had to leave at home alone for a few hours. Finnick is not her friend and probably never will be, but they are both Victors, and that has to count for something, right?
"But I'm sure one of you would make his night very enjoyable," she adds with a winning smile, and they eagerly nod in agreement. Sil purses her lips for a brief second before chuckling and leaning forward. She reaches for her clutch and pulls out a crisp bill, then turns to Felix with a twinkling smile that she literally has to force onto her face.
Felix is a very high ranking general in the Peacekeeper Corps. He's also Snow's lapdog and does all his dirty work for him. On top of that, Felix happens to consider Sil an easy target and often pays for her 'services'. Sometimes he doesn't even pay at all – it depends on whether he's feeling generous really. He considers himself Snow's most trusted man, and that surely gives him plenty of power to do anything he wishes, at least to him. Snow has never appeared to have an issue with Felix's manipulation over Sil, and that gives Felix all the power he needs.
"Felix, my love, how about we make a bet? You see, I believe that Vada has the greater chance at winning – oh, no harm meant, Opal dear, it's just that you don't play quite as often." She smiles at Felix, who smiles slowly back. It is a forced smile, but only Felix seems to notice. To everyone else, Sil appears just as happy-go-lucky as usual.
After a moment, Felix sighs and pulls out his wallet, lifting up a bill and laying it on top of hers. As he leans in to do this, he murmurs in her ear, "If I win, you're mine tonight. You can keep the money." The words make her heart stand still. She is not expecting them.
But even though she wants to shove him off the couch and show him that she belongs to no one, Sil merely laughs flirtatiously and sends him a sharp, quick look that burns with the challenge.
"If you win," she tells him with a wink, and he smiles indulgently at her before leaning back. He obviously thinks that he will win. Well he's got something coming, because Sil never truly loses when it comes to these little games of hers.
"Are we finished with our gambling?" Opal giggles, teetering drunkenly on the edge of her seat. The game begins, cards are discarded and new ones are laid out. Felix does have a good hand. He doesn't even try to hide his fortune. It is his mistake, really. Sil never loses, even when others win.
Her talents lie in a very peculiar method of manipulation, in which these people don't even realize that they are being played. But they are, and as the card game develops, Sil deftly shifts the odds into Vada's direction, stealing away Felix's happy gain and giving it to the Capitol woman. Sil herself will lose, but so will Felix and so will Opal. Vada will win the night with Finnick just as Sil plans, because Vada is sweet and softer than the others, and she at least won't hurt the Victor by being crass.
It's all Sil can do with the given circumstances. The people invited here today were handpicked from her lists by Snow's secretary. They are the people that Sil must now line up. It is the manner in which Snow manipulates her. She has to find willing, and wealthy, Capitol women for Finnick Odair. It is part of the reason she socializes as much as she does. The other reason is to help Snow weed out any Capitol citizen who is not totally loyal to him.
Even though she doesn't know Finnick Odair very well, she sometimes thinks that this is the worst thing she has to do for Snow. In a way, she has more of a hand in his torment than even the President. She isn't the one who lines up his entire schedule, of course. People who want him will pay for him on their own time, without Sil's intervention. But – when it comes to convincing the very wealthy population of the Capitol to use Finnick in whatever way they see fit, Snow pushes it all on Sil. It makes her feel sick and disgusting, but it helps that she can't claim friendship with the man. Doing this part of her job would be so much worse if that was the case.
Vada wins, of course. She jumps out of her seat with a shrill scream that makes Sil cringe. Vada hardly notices. She's far too excited about getting to spend a night with the Capitol Daydream to realize how loud she's being. It hardly matters, really, because the music is loud enough to drown her voice out, though it still annoys Sil like nothing else. What's so great about getting to be with a Victor? She'll never understand it. Victor are, essentially, only murderers and killers forced to survive. They are the haunted ones who never sleep, who ghost the Capitol like headless brainless bodies manipulated by Snow. They are like marionettes drifting across a stage. She knows, because she is one of them.
She so caught up in her thoughts that Sil hardly realizes how tense Felix is at her side. He looks furious for some reason. Sil glances at him briefly before turning to Vada and digging around in her clutch.
"Vada, darling, do make sure you mail this in by tomorrow. Finnick's schedule tends to fill up fast you know, he's just so busy all the time with his interviews and photoshoots and such." She makes no mention of the fact that he is in fact very busy with other women. Very few Capitol citizens know the extent of what he is forced to do, or how many times he's forced to do it in one night.
She hands Vada a white, crisp card with filigree silver swirls around the lacy edges. It is her personal stationary. She gives it out to everyone she collects for Finnick. It's part of the process that she's perfected over the years of her forced socializing and name-gathering. She watches Vada clutch it to her chest and push Opal away when the other woman leans in for a better look. But that's about as much of the scene as Sil is allowed to witness, because that's when Felix stands up and hauls her along with him, dragging her rather rudely across the suite.
"Felix, what in Panem are you doing?" she demands, trying to pull her arm out of his grip. But he just growls scarily and shoves her outside into the hall, which looms up in desertion on every side. Except, of course, the side where Felix slams the door shut and then shoves her up against the wall.
"You played me," he hisses in her ear, hands already roving all over her flawless gown. She swallows back a harsh wave of fear and tries to push him away, but he seems to enjoy her struggles. He's sick, she thinks. Sick and disgusting and about to do things to her that she will not be able to stop, because she's not supposed to be able to. She hates having to pretend to be weak and never being allowed to show her strength for even a second.
His mouth burns against her neck. She shuts her eyes tightly and says, "I did not. Now let go of me you bastard – "
"Bastard?" he raises his voice, throwing her hard against the wall. His hands are quickly lifting up her skirt. He seems to like the sight of her grimaces as he roughly caresses her legs. With a glowering scowl, Felix tells her wickedly, "I'll show you just how much of a bastard I am, you little socialite slut."
She's about to resign herself to her fate, about to shut her emotions off as she always does in the rare occasion when Snow sells her. But before she even has the chance, a voice suddenly cuts in and strongly says, "Actually, you won't be proving anything tonight."
Both Felix and Sil gasp and turn, staring in shock at a figure of a man who had not been there before. It is Finnick Odair, and he looks surprisingly furious.
Felix growls and narrows his eyes at Finnick, refusing to take his hands off Sil. She doesn't seem to even notice. She's too busy staring at Finnick with wide, surprised eyes. She can guess why he is here, in this hotel, but she cannot guess why he would step in and stop what is going on. She's never gotten to know many of the other Victors, and Finnick has always intimidated her a little bit. She knows they don't like her very much. Any of the others would probably just let it happen and not bat an eye. So why is Finnick sticking his neck out for her? She doesn't deserve it – not from him. Not when she is responsible for picking his clients…though he isn't aware of that, of course.
"Oh? I didn't realize you had friends, Sil," Felix chortles harshly, and she tries very hard not to flinch at that. Her face glazes over and she stares at the opposite wall with a blank expression, not letting his words hurt her. She has been hurt too many times by him. Felix breathes out and presses his mouth to her cheek, whispering lowly, "How about we go find a nice room for the night, and I won't get angry at you for controlling the game."
Her eyes harden. Apparently, she hadn't been acting very shallow today, if he saw through her mask so easily. But Felix knows her fairly well by now. He knows how to read her.
Finnick steps forward threateningly and says, "Get your hands off her or I'll break your jaw."
Sil glances at him, still taken aback at his sudden appearance. What surprises her even more is the fact that he actually seems genuinely angry…for her. She's never had anyone get angry on her behalf. It's a strange feeling, this protection.
Felix growls and whirls on him, a deadly look glinting in his eye. It easily rivals the look Finnick has on his own face. It's the sort of expression that is clearly saying 'back off and I won't kill you'. Seeing it on Finnick is so odd, especially when Sil is used to seeing only his suave charm and flirty expression.
"Listen – " Felix starts to say, no doubt about to threaten him. But Finnick is not the type of man who accepts threats, especially not from idiotic Capitol fops like Felix. Finnick is a Victor who has killed. Felix is nothing more than a spoiled rich Capitol brat who lives and breathes his father's money. Without it, he would be nothing.
"No, you listen to me," Finnick cuts in, grasping two fistfuls of Felix's expensive dress shirt and shoving him into the wall. Sil stares, looking blank and unwavering as she watches the disagreement. It almost feels like she's watching it from above, as if she's a ghost who has left her own body and is quietly observing the proceedings somewhere miles away.
Finnick scowls and leans in, roughly claiming, "That woman may not be the smartest Victor out there, but any man who would take advantage of a drunk girl deserves death. Do you hear me? Now get out of here." He pushes Felix to the side as easily as if he is pushing a sack of potatoes off a shelf. Felix tumbles, barely managing to catch himself. He turns to glare once at Sil before he stumbles away, leaving Finnick and her alone. In a deserted hallway in The Plaza. In dead silence.
Sil doesn't move. She just stares at Finnick for a long moment, and he stares back at her, and then she blurts out in what she hopes is a good imitation of her Capitol voice, "I'll have you know that I'm very smart, especially concerning card games."
Apparently her imitation is good, because Finnick rolls his eyes like he can't believe she would say that in this situation, right after she was nearly raped.
"Are you okay?" he asks her, running a hand through his already mussed up hair. The bronze waves get messier than they already are, and Sil stares at them for a moment before slowly nodding. Something is wrong with her tonight. It's obvious to Finnick, and to her as well, but for some reason she can't really bring herself to both look and sound the part of Silver Lamprey Cornelius, shallow brainless idiot from District 1. Is it perhaps because she wants Finnick to know the real her? She's not entirely sure why, only she knows it probably has something to do with the fact that no one has ever stood up for her before, and she feels like she owes him something.
Sil laughs, but it sounds as hollow as she feels. "Certainly, my love!" she tells him, though he doesn't look convinced. Suddenly the lights are too bright, and her dress is too constricting, and the music from inside the party is loud even in the quiet stillness of the hall. Much too loud. She sways, thinking that she might just fall flat on her face right in front of Finnick Odair – and just kill her now because how embarrassing would that be –
Except she doesn't fall on her face, at least not on the floor. Instead she just falls into Finnick's chest, because the moment he sees her sway he rushes over to catch her like a true gentleman.
He shakes his head and mutters, "No you're not. You're practically burning up."
He trails off, brushing his hand over her forehead. She closes her eyes and leans against him, feeling very fatigued and extremely sick. Slowly she inhales the scent of his cologne. He smells like the ocean. He also smells like sex, but she doesn't say anything about that. It's about all she can do to just stand there and grapple with her consciousness. She feels like she might faint and wonders how many drinks she's actually had – surely not that many.
Finnick, it seems, it wondering the same thing. "You must be drunk out of your mind…" he mumbles to himself, obviously assuming that she is too far gone to hear him. In a quieter, angrier voice, he mutters through his teeth, "And that bastard was trying to get under your skirt…"
"I'm not drunk," she mumbles into his shirt. He stiffens, surprised that she's still conscious, and stares down at her. She peers back up at him from the creases of his wrinkled clothes and smiles stupidly, "…But I think I might've been drugged." There is no flamboyant speech added into her words, no lilting District 1 accent. For once it is just her, just Sil, just a woman that Finnick has never known. He stares down at her and frowns.
"…Why would anyone want to drug you?" he slowly asks, not knowing if he really wants to know the answer. Sil gives him a wry smile. Darkness is clutching at the edges of her vision. She feels her body go numb and Finnick bundles her up to his chest to make sure she doesn't fall. It's quite comfortable, and very warm.
"Mmm…" she mumbles, and almost incoherently tells him, "Darrrrling…I'm Silver Lamprey Cornelius. Do you knowww how expensive I am…?" And that's when her head drops down against his chest and she goes completely limp.
Finnick catches her weight, staring hard at her face as it tilts back. She is a flawless and impeccable as always. Would someone really want to drug her? And just how much money does it cost to have the Capitol's socialite for one night? He hadn't thought that she ever had to deal with being sold like that. He hadn't realized until now just how much he doesn't know about Silver Lamprey Cornelius.
Finnick loves secrets, and he's got this feeling that her secrets will be some of the most fascinating ones he's ever heard. When he finds them out, of course, which he will. He will.
Sil wakes up to the intensity of a throbbing, relentless headache. She is surrounded by warmth, tucked in all around her like a cloud of weightless heat. She lays there for several long minutes without opening her eyes, but finally her headache is too much for her to handle and she raises two slender fingers up to rub her temples. It doesn't do much good. That's about when she remembers the party from the night before and she tears her eyes open and sits up with a jolt.
"Woah there, sugar," a low, amused voice suddenly says to her right, and Sil's eyes jerk in its direction. She stares.
Finnick Odair is sitting in her apartment. Finnick Odair is sitting in her –
"What the hell are you doing in my bedroom, Finnick?" she demands, and she must look as ridiculous as she sounds, because Finnick immediately bursts out into hysterical laughter.
He leans forward and wipes a tear from his eye dramatically. Gesturing to the room, Finnick laughingly tells her, "As much as I'd love to be in your bedroom, darling, this is actually my apartment." That shuts her up.
She finally allows herself to look around, eyes wide as she takes in her surroundings. He's right. This is not her airy, pastel colored bedroom. The sheets she's laying in are not silk and definitely not hers. She's in a soft creamy room with green sheets, not white, and the walls converge in an entirely different layout. How had she managed to miss such an obvious fact? Perhaps this error is something that the fop she pretends to be might make, so it could work in her favor.
She swings her head back around to stare at him again. This goes on for several long moments, in which she struggles to lock her more rational side away and truly embrace the idiot she pretends to be. All the while he watches her curiously, wondering what she's doing and why she's just staring at him.
Then Sil lies back down with a dreary sigh and says, "I suppose you brought me here after last night. Finnick, my love, be a dear and bring me some pills. My head is absolutely throbbing." And she buries her head back into his pillows and ignores him.
He stares, raises an eyebrow, and sends her a grin that she doesn't see. "I suppose it would if you really were drugged like you claim. Tell me how that happened and I'll get you some pills." He speaks in this suave, soft voice that almost sounds like a bedroom voice. It is because he has a woman in his bed and he just naturally reverts to it? Or is it because he wants something from her – to learn her secrets perhaps? She isn't stupid enough to think that it's the former, so it must be the latter. It makes the most sense. Finnick does so love learning secrets.
She moans and cuddles into the mattress, which feels like a cloud. Why does her bed never feel this good? The scent of him is everywhere. Ocean and musky sandy cologne that makes her feel really quite good.
"Did I say I was drugged?" Sil asks, and laughs it off, "I must have been well and truly drunk. Can't hold my liquor at all, you know."
Finnick, observant as he is, doesn't appear to believe her. He hums indulgently and sweeps a hand lazily through his hair. "I'm very good at picking apart lies, Sil, so tell me why you were drugged." The bedroom voice has hardened. He clearly won't put up with any stories today. Sil frowns into the pillow and exhales loudly, like a child who hasn't gotten her way. The analogy rather humors Finnick, who stares at her form in amusement.
Instead of answering him, though, Sil just grumbles and sits up, squinting through her headache as she throws her legs over the side of his bed. He immediately stands up, crosses his arms, and asks, "What are you doing?"
She doesn't like him and his observant, knowing eyes. Rolling her eyes, Sil drawls, "I need to use your bathroom, darling. And after that I suppose I'll have to borrow some clothes. I can't walk around the Capitol dressed in this, now can I?" As she stands up, she exclaims, "What would people say? I have quite a lofty reputation, you know my love, and I can't be seen in a wrinkled day-old dress!"
She stumbles to the bathroom that is connected to Finnick's bedroom and muses, "Unless of course I want to start a grunge fashion look. I'm sure people would follow any trend I set – perhaps something ripped at the sides or – "
She doesn't get to finish her hastily crafted speech. Finnick's hand encloses around her elbow and suddenly he's pushing her into the wall. It occurs to her that this is the second time in 24 hours that she's been manhandled, but the thought is quick to slip away because when she looks up, Finnick's face is inches from hers. His eyes are a shining bluish green, the color of a sunlit ocean. Sil stares into them in shock. She's never seen a color so beautiful before and is surprised that she's never noticed those eyes of his. She's never taken the time to notice, really.
"Dear me, I suppose men do enjoy shoving me into dark corners, don't they?" Sil wonders lowly, trying not to sound shrill or annoyed. She feels ragged, like the wrinkles of her crushed dress.
Finnick narrows his eyes at her and leans in. She starts to understand why women always fall all over him. From this angle he really is the most beautiful man she's ever seen. He is so close that if she tilts her head, their lips would meet.
"I'm not letting you leave until you tell me why you were drugged," he tells her slowly, his voice a thrum of low power that makes shivers erupt all over her body. Definitely not because she's attracted to him. This is Finnick Odair for goodness sake – he's been with half the Capitol and besides, she's got no right to find him attractive anyhow. Not after she's the one who got half the Capitol interested in the first place.
She frowns at him, eyes sharp. Lucky for her, she isn't the type to fall head over heels dramatically. Perhaps her idiot alter ego might, but the real Sil doesn't easily give her heart – or her attention – away. She leans forward, their lips almost brushing, and Finnick's eyes travel down to her mouth like he's curious. There's no real desire in his eyes, only confusion, because her sultry body language and the hard steel of her eyes don't mix.
"Why do you care so much?" she demands, and suddenly the shards of her anger transform her into a woman Finnick does not know. She is sharp, she is all edges, she is not stupid. The image shivers and falters, and Finnick is pushed away before he can really understand what just happened.
She uses the newfound space that her shove provides to dart into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Finnick is immediately banging on it, his muffled voice yelling, "Open the door Sil! We have to talk about this!"
She growls and ignores him, turning to the mirror. Sil's reflection stares back at her. Her hair is an utter mess. Her shimmery make-up is smudged over her eyelids. She's pale and has shadows under her eyes – definitely not the impression she'd like to make on the star of the Capitol. But why does she care so much?
"Stupid," she mutters at her reflection. She turns on the water and splashes her face, runs her fingers over her hair, and sniffs at her clothes. Stale alcohol. Delightful.
Her mind whirls with thought. What should she say to Finnick when she opens the door? What persona should she put on? Eventually she just decides to wing it since all her plans seem to be meaningless wherever Finnick Odair is concerned.
With a sigh, she throws the door open just as he's raising his hand to knock again. They stare at each other for a split second before she raises an eyebrow and sidesteps him, ducking back into his bedroom and immediately going to his closet. A very confused Finnick watches as she riffles through his clothing, plucking shirts off the rack and examining them.
"Should I be asking what you're doing, or are you going to grace me with an explanation?" he dryly questions her, and Sil huffs.
"I told you darling, I can't go out like this. People saw me last night – they would spread awful scandalous rumors about me if they saw me in last night's clothes." It isn't far from the truth, though mainly she just wants to get the smell of alcohol, and Felix, off of her. Preferably as quickly as possible.
She pauses, glances at him thoughtfully, and then starts to shrug out of her gown. Finnick leans against the wall and crosses his arms, politely turning his eyes to the window as she steps into a pair of his trousers and starts buttoning up a blue shirt that is several sizes too big on her. He thinks it's rather amusing, having none other than Silver Lamprey Cornelius fit herself into his clothes.
"Not that I'm complaining," Finnick says cheekily, "but I think you could do without the trousers. You in my shirt is about all I can take." He quirks a grin and Sil tosses her hair behind her shoulder.
She doesn't give him the reaction he is looking for, or even expecting. All she does is look down at her borrowed outfit, tsk, and sigh, "Mmm, perhaps you're right. Do you think anyone would notice if I don't wear pants?" She says it so seriously that Finnick bursts into laughter.
She smiles too and shucks off the trousers, which frankly make her look ridiculous. Then she turns to riffle through his closet again, and Finnick cautiously turns his eyes to her.
He's seen naked women. He's even seen naked men a few times more than he'd care to remember. He knows the female body intimately. He's seen dozens, hundreds maybe, of women without their clothes. But none of them have ever looked quite as good as the one standing in front of him wearing only his shirt and nothing else. It's really a shame that her body is all Sil has going for her.
"Finnick, darling, aren't you going to cook me breakfast before I leave?" she asks over her shoulder, sounding a little flippant about it. But he can see the uplifted way her cheeks smile, pressing down in a failed attempt to keep that smile at bay. He smirks and turns his eyes back to the ceiling before she can catch him staring at her legs.
"That depends," he tells her. She sighs.
"On whether I tell you why I think I was drugged?" she wonders, ever straight forward. He nods. She doesn't see his confirmation, but she gives him an answer anyway. It just isn't the answer he expects. He's beginning to think that none of what she says will be things he expects.
"You know what's strange?" she asks him, pulling out a black trench coat and trying it on. As she ties it around her waist, she breezily muses, "I've been a Victor for seven whole years, and not once have I ever interfered with your life." She ignores the whisper in her head that tells her what a filthy lie that is, and says in a low voice, "So I would dearly appreciate it, my love, if you don't attempt to interfere with mine."
He frowns and is about to speak when she pushes on, "I've allowed you all to keep your distance from me because I disgust you, don't I? The way I actually enjoy spending time with the friends I've made in the Capitol. Well here's a proposition for you, darling: let's just keep our relationship the way it is. Casual." She turns, winks at him with a wry smile, and slips into her heels. Then she pops the collar of the trench coat and saunters right out of the room before Finnick even understands what has just happened.
By the time he does understand and rushes after her, Sil is already twisting the doorknob of his apartment and waving him goodbye. Before the tails of the trench coat swing away, she calls, "I'll have your lovely coat mailed back by tomorrow morning, Finnick darling!" And then she's gone, and Finnick just stands there staring at the door, totally confused at how she could just twist every conversation whichever way she wants – and succeed.
Well there's at least one thing he's gotten out of this chance meeting, and that is the fact that there's definitely more to Silver Lamprey Cornelius than he'd thought. Especially when, the next morning, his coat and shirt are waiting for him in the lobby of the apartment complex with a little note stuffed into the pocket.
You have divine taste in fashion, darling. I almost didn't send it back. XO - SLC
And, looking through the clothes, Finnick finds that they are dry cleaned, pressed, and ironed as if Sil had never touched them to begin with.