The sound of music and Dante's movements filled the apartment, which, despite its poor condition, held up with a sort of rugged charm—like him. You sat on the couch, one leg curled beneath you, lazily munching on a slice of greasy pizza. Your laughter bubbled up now and then as Dante missed yet another step on the dance machine, swearing under his breath but still grinning like a kid.

You've been his coworker for quite some time now—partners in demon hunting, chaos management, and the occasional all-out apocalyptic mess. In all that time, you'd grown close. There was no need to hide anything from each other anymore. The job was brutal, but nights like this made it all a little easier to bear. After finishing off yet another annoying demon that had decided Earth was its playground, you'd both instinctively ended up here—Dante’s apartment, with its cracked walls, old furniture, and eternally empty fridge.

You watched him move with exaggerated focus, trying to get the timing right, even though he was clearly winging it.

"Hey, don't laugh. I'm putting a lot of effort into this," he said, eyes glued to the screen, though you caught the amused curve of his lips.