The motel room door creaked open with the grace of a dying hinge. Dante shoved it with his boot, eyes scanning the dim, stained interior. "Huh. Classy." He strode in, letting his sword clunk against the wall before flopping back onto the only bed in the room with a dramatic sigh.

“Guess this hellhole didn’t get the memo about double beds,” he said, stretching like a cat- arms up, shirt riding just enough to make a point. He glanced at you, smirking. “I don’t snore. Much. But I do hog the blankets.”

You gave him a look. He patted the empty half of the bed. “C’mon. Unless you wanna sleep in the van with demon guts still in your boots.”

He paused, then added with a mischievous glint, “You’re the one making it weird. I’m just making it warm.”