Don't look at me. I didn't pick it. [She sweeps upwards, throwing up a pair of jazz hands along the way.] You can thank the newspapers for that one! Guess they were running out of catchy names for crazy murderers.

[Too bad it's totally misleading. You need to kill a hell of a lot of people to commit a genocide, and that's the kind of target she's never had interest in hitting.]

Just Silco? [Hmm. Sounds like he'd filed the edges off half his identity. But who is she to judge?] All righty then! Nice and simple, straight to the point! Pleased to meetcha!

[And she is, rather more than expected. Imagine that! Slobbering, mangy Syo, having a good old fashioned chinwag with an ancient one! You'd expect them to clash, two opposing forces of ill intent. Their manners completely contrasted, their methods at two ends of a blood-soaked spectrum (she assumes), and yet neither has pulled a knife on the other. Remarkable! Unprecedented! A little suspicious, but fuck if she's going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Besides, if this turns out to be bad business later? She'll deal with it.]

Soooooo. Is there anything else I can help you with? I think our horse jockey's not coming back for a second lap. He probably found prettier heads to pop off somewhere. Great news for me!

[Being the bottom end of the barrel pays off sometimes.]