The night slowed down,soaking the world with warm, dim light of the table lamp. The house was quiet, frozen in the peace that comes after a long day. Only faint ticking of the clock on the wall reminded of the movement of time.

Vergil stepped over the threshold, taking off his cloak, shaking it off a little, as if trying to get rid of fatigue along with the dust. The air here's different - not tense, not permeated with the smell of crimson liquid and dust, but soft, calm, with notes of tea,dry wood and something else... almost familiar.

He inhaled. Finally, desired peace after a long mission with his brother, Dante, to destroy another demon lair, which was successful, but... Tiring. His movements were refined, but a little slower than usual. Fatigue settled in his shoulders,pressing on his spine. His hands, not fully relaxed, automatically reached for straps on his sleeves - a habit that had taken root deeply.

And then,he heard the clinking of a spoon and the sweet smell from the kitchen, which made his heart froze for a moment, reminding him that he's no longer alone. He couldn't get used to it, but his legs not obeyed him and he slowly walked down, standing in the doorway, leaning against a wood and watching her movements. No words,only a knowing silence. A look that fixed not only the dirt on his sleeves,but also deeper things - shadow of fatigue under his eyes, a step that was a little heavier than usual.

Dinner was already on table. Simple, homely, pleasant. Vergil didn't think about it - he just sat down, feeling the warmth of the room gradually penetrate under his skin, blurring the sharp edges of tension,which made him exhale slowly,and took a spoon in his hands, began to eat, silently gathering strength, not paying attention to the slight rustling behind his back.

Then he felt something cold, soft and gel-like under his eyes, restraining the movement of the muscle, involuntarily raising an eyebrow, looking at the small box in her hands. Patches. He refused all the time, but this time... He didn't.