Calling things awkward was generous.
Awkwardness indicated some level of communication, or at least an attempt at it, nonwithstanding how sloppy or embarrassing the execution might be. But indeed, the 'relationship' Nero has with his... father (his inner voice spits the word like a curse) is barely a relationship at all. Over the past two months, the only contact he's had with Dante's frosty Doppelgänger (sans beating him halfway senseless atop The Qliphoth) were a number of mutually haughty stares and one instance of: "Well excuuse you!" whilst Vergil brushed past him on the staircase.
Frankly, Nero had no idea what to expect when he discovered Vergil was his father. He wondered if his life would be any different now that he was within reasonable proximity. Would Vergil reach out to him? Explain? Apologize? Try to make amends with his estranged son? Nero almost laughed at the thought. He hadn't known Vergil very long, but he really couldn't imagine that fucking icicle of a man bending his pride even one inch to accommodate his spawn.
And even,by some miracle, Vergil indeed wished to establish something between them, would Nero want it? Would he accept such an invitation? He doesn't know. He hasn't a single clue. Nero doesn't need it; he's survived all these years without dear ol' Daddy breathing down his neck (somehow, he already knows what kind of horrendously intense parent Vergil would become, had he thrown himself wholeheartedly into a child-rearing endeavor) - and he would survive just as well the rest of his days knowing Vergil didn't give a flying shit about him.
Sure, it stings... but he's wrestled through the whole 'child abandonment' thing during the first ten years of his life. One got used to being an orphan. Perhaps it's better that things stay this way.
"Tch... "
Of course, Kyrie doesn't agree. She had - and still has - some ridiculous notion that Vergil will be compelled by his 'fatherly instincts' to make it all up to a Nero, and then serve as her father-in-law and doting grandfather to their future children. She had vocalized a fair deal of her fantasies, and most of them ended with The Demon who ruthlessly conquered all of Hell, and nearly visited apocalypse upon the human world helping her to bake cookies and serve hot apple cider to old ladies at the nursing home.
The mental images her ramblings induced in his mind were so ludicrous, they went straight past comical and directly into 'weird fever dream'. Nero always finds himself a bit flabbergasted when his beloved blasts him with another one of these ridiculous scenarios, and tells himself she's just doing it for his reaction... but he knows that's not true. Kyrie wants him to make amends with his father. She thinks it'll be good for him, and despite all of Nero's protests and assertions that Vergil has the emotional capacity of a woodchipper, won't take no for an answer. She begs and nags and encourages until ... until Nero is standing on the doorstep of that familiar storefront with nervousness, roiling in his guts and a sneer twisting his face.
"This is Ridiculous."
He vocalizes his annoyance aloud, not caring if the men inside hear him as he works out what the fuck he's gonna say to his father. Is it even worth planning this out? Vergil might not even acknowledge him. Perhaps this will just devolve into screaming and spittle? Maybe they'll just bust out the swords and fight.
Actually, maybe that's for the best. If he wins, he can gloat. If he loses, at least he got to blow off steam. In both scenarios, a convincing 'I tried to talk and we ended up fighting.' will get Kyrie off his back. For a while, at least.
So with his mind set, Nero draws his blade and nigh kicks the heavy doors off their hinges to announce his entrance. The Twins should have already sensed him, so he has no qualms about busting in all impromptu -like. When he stomps into the foyer, Dante doesn't even take the porno magazine off his face before greeting him in a long yawning drawl.
"Heyo~ kiddo." His fingers are threaded behind his head and his grimy red-leather cowboy boots are propped up on his equally grimy desk. He grins into the magazine and the paper crinkles so the image of a stripper's bare buttocks is compressed in the oddest manner. Nero can't help but roll his eyes in disgust. Dante doesn't even pretend to be apologetic. Not that he ever is.
"Here to see your most favorite-tist Uncle, eh?"
The Stripper's buttocks winks at him with each word that comes out of Dante's mouth. Nero wants to punch him. Instead his taps his blade on the floor rhythmically as releases something between a groan and a sigh.
"Dante, where the hell is my old man?"
The magazine comes off; Dante feigns hurt.
"What?! You wanna talk to that frosty old bitch instead of me?! Nero! How could you!?"
A couple wild gesticulations later and the magazine goes back on- in the exact place it was before (in hindsight, this was most certainly done purposefully). Dante chuckles darkly before his voice becomes curious. He poses his questions, but Nero simply cannot find it in himself to respond to a literal talking asshole.
"Verge? Ah, he's upstairs. He definitely heard you, but no guarantees he'll come down to chat. Want me to go drag him here?"
Nero rolls his eyes again. He raises his voice and directs it at the staircase.
"Vergil, I'm -here- for my rematch!"
The moment those words leave his mouth, he feels it. His father's rolling demonic presence flaring up and seeping through the floorboards so thick, it prickles his skin and makes the small hairs on his arms stand on end - if not by pure static. In response, Nero likewise tugs on his power, letting it fill him up and overflow to counter his father's. The air in the room becomes heavy, crushing, yet utterly still and silent save the slow beat of footsteps descending the shoddy staircase.
"...hm."
Icy eyes cut straight into him as Vergil observes, his gaze fixed and his neck seeming to turn on a smooth swivel. He's dressed as usual. A thick - armour like- leather peacoat and that blue, impeccably cared for leather coat. He stands perfectly straight and moves with a smoothness that isnt human. He radiates nothing but cold, judging sternness and it makes Nero scoff. Just look at that bastard. He really might have a stick up his ass after all! Nero bares his teeth and points his sword at the man now standing several meters in front of him. Originally he had come here to satiate Kyrie's desire, but now - he really wants to punch Vergil in the face.
"Took you long enough, old man. Hope you're not starting to go geriatric on me." Nero raises the shittiest shit-eating grin he can muster.
"It'll make me feel bad about beating your ass into the ground ...again."
Dante whistles and cackles from beneath the Stripper's bum. Vergil's face shifts very subtly: the tightness of his jaw and the pressure with which his presses his lips together. He pretends the taunt doesn't reach past his frosty exterior, but Nero knows it most certainly has.
Vergil's voice is always dry, but there's something gutteral in his throat when he speaks. His gaze has gone from cold to fiercely proud.
"Foolish whelp... I will teach you the difference in our power. Then, you will eat those words."
