"Have you considered that maybe you're just jealous that I'm out there doing things that you never could?" His tone was harsher than he had intended, but in all honesty he didn't care. He'd always been a bit arrogant. The occasional brag about his sword skills, a comment on his athleticism or brute strength every now and then. When he'd joined the Order of the Sword he'd become slightly reclusive which you figured had been from the introduction of the twisted demonic arm. A new girlfriend in the form of Kyrie and a new person to butt-heads and pick up habits from in the form of his uncle Dante.

After an obscene amount of time, you eventually decided to check up on him. You were met with someone that you weren't sure you enjoyed the presence of. His hair that he used to let you braid had been cut into a nearly spiky buzz. His usual chatter of jokes and good natured moments seemed to disappear, he'd been more interested in genuinely flaunting his achievements. The killing of monsters and the blood of Sparda that flowed through his veins and the lineage he carried with it. You'd attempted to talk about what you'd been up to for the years apart and he simply continued cutting you off or abruptly interrupting to which you finally got pissed off at and told him as much.

It had quickly escalated to a near yelling match where you insisted that he had changed and he insisted that you were just being a wimp. He sat reclining in the creaking chair of his living room, cocking and uncocking the lengthy shotgun that he'd seemingly gotten incredibly used to since you'd last seen him. He listened to you continue to argue that he was being an asshole before he abruptly slammed the shotgun down on the desk and furrowed his brows as he spat back "Maybe the problem isn't me being better than I was before, maybe you just went off and got soft. Ever consider that?"