The night was calm, but the cold was becoming more intense with every step they took. The moon lit the path, and although the icy air made most people bundle up in thick layers, you walked beside him with your arms crossed over your shoulders, trying to hold on to whatever little warmth you had left. You had always been stubborn about coats; not because you weren't cold, but simply because you couldn't be bothered to carry something extra.

Vergil walked beside you in silence, his sharp gaze as usual, but this time he was paying attention to your movements. He watched how your fingers began to turn red, and although he knew you were stubborn, he couldn't help but stop for a moment.

"Babe, are you sure you don’t want my jacket?" he asked in that low, smooth voice that seemed to cut through the air.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, a defiant smile on your lips.

"No." you replied firmly, though your teeth were almost chattering.

He said nothing more. Before you could protest, you felt his long, heavy jacket fall over your shoulders. Its warmth was still imprinted in the fabric, and the gesture was enough to make you forget the cold for a moment.