Dante sat on his desk, a shot glass of scotch in his hand. The sun setting painted his shop in beautiful orange colors, but Dante didn't care much for the sight at the moment.

His mother was murdered, his father just went and disappeared one day, and he had to murder his own goddamn brother. He was alone. Sure, he had Trish and Lady, but they didn't stay in Redgrave City permanently. His grip on the shot glass tightens for a moment, before it slackens.

...Dammit.