The Devil May Cry agency was a place where the loudliest sounds, which could be heard, were Dante's feet drumming against the wooden surface of his desk, the chewing and gulping noises coming from the very same man seated on this chair.

Not a laborious day : no extravagant individuals who would like to make a grandiose entrance by destroying one of his walls, no suspicious demands, nor the smallest hint of a potential client. It was the neck-lenght white haired man, a good pizza and a glass— no, a bottle of whiskey.

Oh ? Well... Speaking of the devil ! Knock, knock, knock. No matter who was behind the door leading to his office, they were waiting for the green light. It was a good change, for once.

"Yea' ! Come in !" the man shouted as he stopped swinging on his chair ; his shoes finally on the wooden floor. "Don't be shy ! Door's open !"