[It's one of the moments that Silva has waited a long, long time for, to confront M once more. To look her in the eyes. To show her, face to face, what she did to him. He has to admit, it's all rather overwhelming, but it's as it should be. Endgame is coming, and he now feels ready for it.

But M isn't the only one on his mind, occupying his thoughts. And it's not even intentional. A match struck in his mind, illuminating the dark and damaged corners of his mind. Sees, in his peripheral vision, Bond react at nearly the same time. There's something else there. Silva can't tell what yet, but it almost doesn't bother him, not with everything else going on, not with the plan, with M, with the release of burden from showing off his wounds and seeing her face. Perhaps to some it would be jarring, the simultaneous love and hate, the twisted views he holds of his former employer, but he's held them for so long in his broken psyche that it makes perfect sense, balances out perfectly in a way that at least allows him to remain functional.

They're alone. There's a trickle of someone else. A big difference between guessing people, which Silva can do fairly well, and something...well, something much different. Something he can't yet name. Something from James.

He leans his head against his clear confinement, dark eyes locked on James when they are alone. Alone on purpose. The agent wants answers without asking. Silva would laugh if he had it in him right now.]

Not going to run under mommy's skirt, James? Not going to ask her all your unanswered questions with nothing but a look in your eyes?