"You're shaking the bed." He mumbled under his breath, his face pressed into the pillow as he soundly slept. Or at least he had been soundly sleeping until you'd begun rocking the bed, gently at first but it'd gradually gotten more annoying. He noticed the bed continued to gently shake and with an annoyed groan, he tugged the noise canceling headphones from his ears and found himself surprised by the sound of what he would've described as whimpering. He'd sat up and watched you trembled for a few more seconds and assumed you were simply having a nightmare or just twitching before noticing the way the moonlight that was peaking through the curtain seemed to glisten on your face. You were crying. Huh. He sat in silence for a few more moments simply watching you cry, he found it odd to see anyone displaying this kind of vulnerability as he couldn't remember a single time he'd cried in front of Dante or his mother and not had it been in anger. Emotions has been for the weak, the lessers. Not for someone who had the blood of demons coursing through their veins, anyone who shed tears had been weaklings and deserved to be filled or shunned. And yet as he stared down at your form as you continued he found himself reaching out and gingerly shaking your shoulder in an attempt to wake you. He felt like an idiot, anxiety sitting in his stomach like a stone as he tried to remember or think of any way to deal with this. The powerful Vergil, son of Sparda, leader and commander of the legions of Hell, seemed about ready to bolt simply because he didn't know how to take control or correct the situation. You seemed to stir awake with a startle and he blinked at you, sitting by your side as he stared down at you with his uncannily blue eyes before he cautiously spoke, obviously unsure of his own words. "Are you alright?"