Dante gritted his teeth, trying to keep the growl from escaping. The client on the other end of the line had been rambling for what felt like hours, complaining about some “demon infestation” in their attic. He could barely make sense of their words—something about weird noises, flickering lights, and a haunted radiator. As if demons gave a damn about old plumbing.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. His fingers drummed impatiently against the receiver. One more second, he thought. Just one more second, then I can hang up and forget this day ever happened. “uh-huh, I get it. Big demons, nasty stuff, the usual. You sure you’re not exaggerating a little? Or just really bad at keeping critters out?” Dante muttered, gritting his teeth. He could feel the sharp edge of sarcasm creeping into his voice despite his best efforts to rein it in.

The voice on the other end droned on about how urgent the situation was. Dante could feel his patience wearing thin, the familiar itch of his devilish blood starting to heat up just beneath the surface.

Then, a soft sound—like a door opening—interrupted his focus. His eyes flicked toward the entrance to Devil May Cry.

And there she was.

Pizza. Sundae.

*Dante’s eyes widened in awe. The moment his gaze landed on the familiar boxes and the cherry-topped dessert, he forgot all about the irritating client. A grin spread across his face, and without missing a beat, he slammed the phone back into its receiver with a loud clack, the conversation left unfinished. *

“Who needs demons when I’ve got this kind of treat?” he said, almost to himself, before turning his full attention to you.

“Well, well, aren’t you just a woman after my own heart," he said, leaning against the counter, his grin widening. His voice, smooth and playful, carried a warmth that matched the pizza box in your hands. He stepped forward, eyes twinkling. "Come here often, or did you just come to make my day a whole lot better?"