"What debt is it that she speaks of?"
Dante was not ready for that question, in every single dream, every faint hope he had ever since their last duel on the Temen-ni-gru that one day he would see Vergil again, that his brother had not died from the fall, it always had him wide awake that the mention of his crippling debts. He knew his twin would most likely run the demonic katana through him the second he explained how he owed money to Lady, most likely dropping a lecture about how he was a foolish younger brother and should have learned better than to trust and rely on someone else, but that was not what Dante dreaded. He could take a stabbing or two no problem, it was how they showed love for the past…three decades? Truth to be told, the Legendary Demon Hunter did not remember how old he was, he had stopped caring for birthdays a year or two after their childhood home burned down, trying his best to ignore those memories.
He was terribly afraid of if his brother tried to help him with his finances by "convincing" Lady to drop the debts. First and foremost, he knew the walking arsenal of a woman would not back down in the face of intimidation, and second, Dante was absolutely sure they would end up trying to kill each other or at the very least grievously harm one another in an attempt to physically convince the other to shut up. Sparda's Youngest visibly had frozen with a forced grin, leaning against one of the newly cleaned couches for a touch of levity…And to support his own weight after he almost slipped out of terror.
"It's nothing. Don't bother with it, y'know, you're at fault here." He said, mustering all of his easygoing attitude he could right now, his grip at the back of the couch tighter than what was humanly possible. Vergil's reaction was exactly what he expected: Chin up, an air of arrogance and outrage at being blamed that was all too common with his older brother. Perfect, he pressed just the right buttons.
"How am I at blame for your financial mishaps, Dante?" The scowl was just like when Vergil got blamed for something Dante did when they were kids, a reaction Dante had just hoped for. Great, he could play their old game once more…One that his older brother had never won. "Y'know. When you wrecked half the city raising dad's fancy tower lock to hell, ya sent some of those hells on my shop and they totally wrecked it. Had to rebuild it from the ground up and replace just about everything." Dante's forced grin had become a smirk Vergil remembered all too well, it was quite like when they were kids and the blame game was played. That alone made Sparda's eldest feel one of his temples throb in irritation, not only because he absolutely knew what his twin was doing, but because Dante was absolutely right, despite his usual foolish antics.
Vergil let out a long, weary sigh, lowering his shoulders from their squared, high position as well as the Yamato that was in his hands. The way his brother stood there made Dante recall V very briefly, amusement sparking within him as he wondered how he did not figure out that the scrawny stranger was just a facet of his older brother. "You are right. I am at fault here Dante…For once you are right between us. We shall rectify that debt of your's"
Dante had just opened his mouth to argue back, expecting this conversation to devolve into the inane bickering he very much loved when Vergil shut him up. He was NOT expecting him to concede so easily. The one in red brought up his gloved hand to his chin, fingers brushing against the silver-white hairs of his beard that prickled against his rough digits, enough for Sparda's youngest to look down in an attempt to see his own beard. Such little detail brought to his attention he had not shaved for months now, and given that water, gas and power were still running…That could only mean Lady and Trish had kept the bills paid.
"We'll see about that tomorrow, Verge. I gotta solve this stubble situation here, as much as I'd love to grow a beard and look even more like the mature handsome man I am, unfortunately I was blessed with having a natural hair color that makes me look ten years older than I really am." He said with all the sass he could put into that, stretching his arms upwards and making his way upstairs towards the bathroom, memories of that time he attempted to shave inside the Qliphoth coming to mind. Could he use his newfound summoned swords to a similar effect? Would save him a bit of cash with razors and the awkwardness of attempting to use one of his devil arms to shave. Never again, not after what had happened when he had the brilliant(and drunken) idea of trying to use Agni to burn off the stubble that one time.
Once Dante was out of sight, Vergil deflated, slouching forward and using the Yamato to support his own weight.
He had been waiting for his younger brother to go somewhere else for now, having spent an entire month alongside him in the demon world was grating the frayed remnants of his composure and nerves and as much as he loved spending time with Dante, Vergil had a very low social battery for things outside of exchanging barbs and clashing blades. Given Dante had oh so unceremoniously declared he would be shaving(and voicing his issues with their inherited hair color), Vergil could not help but exhaled in relief, because as much as he wanted to portray himself as a unwavering, untiring demon king, in truth Vergil was running on fumes.
They had been fighting, arguing and slaying demons without rest, food or water for an entire month, and even with their inhuman stamina granted to them by their Father's blood, they were not invincible or infinite of energy, they eventually got tired, just like he himself was now.
Straightening his posture after slouching so much he was starting to fear dear Father or the ghost of him would come up out of nowhere to berate him for him, Vergil took one good look at the upstairs of the aging building, having not noticed that it was indeed a very large space the last time he was there as V. Thinking about it now, the Devil May Cry was a multiple story building, how that very obvious detail had escaped his attentive mind, Vergil chalked up to his human dregs' weak and perpetually exhausted condition. Slowly, Vergil paced around the ground floor, taking in the untasteful posters and magazines of lecherous nature, the old and in places peeling wallpaper that had been cleaned up, but not changed, the various instruments in disarray at one corner, none of his own interest, next to a very beaten and battered jukebox, with a huge dent in the middle that no doubt was shaped like Dante's fist. By them there was a small bar with a fridge by it, one which Vergil was currently opening in a rare moment of weakness and a need for food. He had, after all, been eating solely demon flesh to survive during the Qliphoth crisis. And anything he had ever eaten tasted better than the carcass of a Riot.
To his disappointment, there was only beer there. The entire thing was filled to the brim with it. Vergil only hoped the kitchen was in a better state.
Ignoring his desire to eat something for now, Sparda's eldest made his way to the antique desk in the middle of the office studio, slowly running his fingers across the grooves and signs of age of the furniture until his digits brushed against the picture frame there. He only managed to take a brief peek out of curiosity before harshly slamming the frame down to conceal what was being held. Vergil could not stomach looking at his mother so soon, the heartache was too grave and it had been taking a good amount of his almost unending willpower to even gaze at Trish during the brief time the two had met. Taking a good glance upwards, a mischievous, dangerous smirk curled his lips as he sat upon his brother's chair, rummaging through the desk's drawers to sate his curiosity until he found the most recent accounting book. The leather cover was in a bad shape and overall, the thing looked quite messy and beaten down, but that was to be expected of a well worn instrument for keeping tabs in one's economical balance.
Setting it upon the desk and opening, Vergil's eyes widened as he laid upon dozens and dozens of negative outcomes of balances and calculations, with only a few times where the shop ended the month in the green - Or what he thought was a positive balance, he was good with numbers but not exactly a professional - it was a surprise the Devil May Cry had not been declared bankrupt yet. Must be Dante's stubbornness. Making a mental note to understand his business practices and talk to that man later - Morrison.
What caught Vergil's attention the most however, was how Dante always paid Lady on the exact same day, a sumn that was adjusted for what he assumed to be inflation and without a shadow of doubt, was his biggest money drain alongside the coats. Who even spends five thousand dollars for a red leather coat?! It was besides the point however, as the fact this Lady went as far as accounting for inflation with Dante's debts was starting to make what was cold indifference turn into burning hostility towards her. Rapidly getting all of the books he could and opening them, he looked through all of them and found the exact same monthly payment being made to her, the exact same adjusted amount of cash…Going as far back as the mid-late 90s. The value was substantially higher for a couple of years before settling down during the 2000s, where it steadily rose and sometimes, had an extra spending or another marked with a different color.
Something was not adding up there. He had to figure it out, soon, lest his brother spent his entire life with money going down the drain. Vergil had no idea why he felt compelled to do that, other than the fact he felt responsible for his little brother, even if both of them were in their early forties already. It was decided that once he found Arkham's daughter's dwellings, Vergil would pay her a visit.
Of course, he did not expect to feel a sudden burst of power coming from Dante, and immediately rushed upwards to see what had just happened. Worry clear in his demeanor.
Dante did NOT expect that he would have cut himself that deep in the face with that little trick. Who knew that had he succeeded in using the sharp shell of that demon to shave, he would have cut more than just his stubble off? Thankfully, he had more than enough energy in him remaining to trigger and fix that damage quickly, dispelling the tiny spinning swords he had thought of using as a razor. Nothing he could not fix…But cleaning the mirror of all that blood would take a while.
That, and the door his older brother had just broke through to check on him with bewildered worry clear in his eyes, an emotion Vergil really quickly disguised, even if he could not do anything to fight the burning feeling that was creeping from his neck up at the sudden intrusion.
And it made Dante laugh, a booming, honest to God laugh that had Sparda's youngest doubling over his gut and wiping tears from his eyes as he inched towards Vergil and placed a heavy hand upon his shoulder for support. "What is the meaning of this?" The eldest of the pair barked out in disbelief at what he was seeing. He had sensed Dante's trigger, he could only think it meant something serious occurred but now? He saw a buffoon dying of laughter.
"I…Hold on…" Dante barely could speak or breathe between his laughter or manage to stay upright, a louder fit of laughs ensued before the longer haired man was recovering his breath, looking up at Vergil's confused frown through teary eyes. "I just cut myself shaving and wanted to get over mending my face quick. You busted my door, Verge."
"I…" Vergil blinked, hearing that looking over at the ruined remains of the doorhingers as the wood laid in splintered chunks on the floor, his hands busy holding the Yamato and the door handle that was slightly crunched under his grip.
The rest of the evening, Vergil spoke naught a word, too caught up on his own screw up to even voice his concerns about Dante's financial status.