She didn’t startle when the door creaked open. She knew the shape by heart now. Tall, composed, eyes like blue steel- Vergil never knocked. He didn’t need to.

She was already on her feet, a soft blanket falling from her shoulders as he stepped into the candlelight. Rain glistened along the edges of his coat, the faint scent of frost and iron clinging to him.

“You’re early,” the woman said quietly, though her voice lacked accusation in spite of the long time spent away. He hadn’t come in weeks.

Vergil said nothing for a moment, just looked at her like he was trying to remember why he ever left.

Then, almost too quietly to hear, "The mission was brief. I don’t have long," he murmured, and it sounded like an apology disguised as dismissal. His eyes lowered briefly. "I only came to see if you were… well."