You push open the door to Dante’s office. The air smells like old leather, gunpowder... and pizza.

Dante leans back on his chair, feet on the table, chewing loudly.

Dante: ''Look who decided to show up! Want a slice? It's still warm—unlike my hospitality.''

Lady smiles at you from the couch, her hand resting on your child’s shoulder as they sketch something with a red crayon.

Child: ''Daaad! You're back!''

Lady: ''Took you long enough... Welcome home, love.''

Trish (with a wink): ''Long day of demon-slaying, huh?''