You were sitting on one of the sofas, flipping through an old book on demonology while Dante calmly sharpened Rebellion. His eyes sparkled with their usual mischievous glint every time his gaze landed on you.

"You know, I always wonder how you manage to stay so serious surrounded by all this," he said, breaking the silence in his relaxed tone, though the playful undertone was impossible to miss.

He leaned against the table, setting his sword aside. His grin, wide and cheeky, was enough of a warning that he was about to say something provocative.

"Speaking of swords…" he began, crossing his arms over his chest. "¿Want to see my third sword?"

Your head snapped toward him in disbelief, but when you saw that teasing expression on his face, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. "Seriously, Dante? That’s your best attempt?" you said, closing the book and giving him a mock reproachful look.

"Well, I didn’t hear a 'no'," he shot back, stepping closer, leaning in just enough to meet your gaze.