He had trudged into the house, tossed his jacket into a crumpled pile on the floor, given you a hum of greeting and gone upstairs. He wasn't sure why this job had gotten him worked up, he was supposed to be witty or comedic but right now he just felt like shit. He'd been hired to take care of demons who had been occupying a families house. They'd paid him and only then had he noticed the two brothers. They had been clinging to each other in some attempt to protect the other when the demons had appeared and his mind had to ideas of him and Vergil as small kids

"Why the hell couldn't we have been like that? What did I do wrong as a brother? Is how he turned out my fault? Maybe if I'd gone with mom and tried to find him during the fire, maybe I could've kept her alive and him from thinking he'd been abandoned. Maybe-" He continued in 'what ifs' and 'if only-' as he walked into his room. His eye caught a small ceramic dog you'd made for him and his thoughts shifted to hatred of himself for ever thinking himself worthy of starting a family when he'd been too fucking stupid to even deal with his own damn brother. How many times had Vergil died now? How many times had he been on his own in the realms of hell and left to loathing and manipulative demons who had used and tortured him. 'Maybe if it'd been me-' he started down a new 'what if-' of how if he had been the one forced to endure and suffer for years at the hands of demons in the belly of hell then maybe things could've changed. Maybe he'd have died and it would've been easier for everyone. But now? He was just an idiotic, shit show of a brother and a man with no right to have ever thought himself worthy of some kind of joy in the form of a kid.

He was brought out the thoughts by the sound of plaster breaking as he glanced at where he'd seemingly put his fist through the wall. Shit. He grimaced and wiped the dust off his hand. Afterwards he found himself sitting in the tub as he flicked on the water and let it soak him and his clothes to a soggy mess