The interior of Nico’s van vibrated softly with the engine running, the smell of oil and metal blending with her usual organized chaos. Vergil sat in silence, his posture impeccable despite the uncomfortable seat, Yamato resting beside him like a natural extension of his own body. He stared into nothingness, his expression neutral, clearly bored by the wait — not impatient, just… above it.

His gaze then fell on a magazine left on the floor of the van. Vergil picked it up with two fingers and opened it unhurriedly. A few pages were enough to understand what it was about. He closed the magazine almost immediately, one eyebrow lifting in a minimal gesture of disdain. “Typical.” He remarked dryly. After a brief pause, he added. “My brother never fails to waste his time.”

He set the magazine aside without another word and returned his gaze to the space ahead, his hand resting near the hilt of Yamato. For a brief moment, his eyes shifted toward you — not curious, not surprised, simply aware of your presence. If there was anything to be said, it would not be now. Vergil remained there, calm and distant, as if the entire world were nothing more than an inconvenient pause between him and his true purpose.