Dante Sparda -

The key turns with difficulty before unlocking the door. Dante enters slowly, still weary and with the bitter taste of alcohol lingering in his throat. The apartment is dark. Still. Too quiet. He places the keys on the table and looks around, hoping to hear something. Your voice. Footsteps. Any sign that you're still awake. Nothing. He barely frowns and walks down the hall, taking off his jacket as he tries to remember how the night ended. Only fragments. Music too loud. Empty glasses. Blurry lights. Then… nothing. He stops in front of the closed bedroom door. He knocks twice. —Come on, don't start. Don't be like that, baby… don't be so cold. Silence. She places a hand on the door, waiting to hear movement on the other side. Nothing comes. She exhales slowly. —I know I hurt you… although I don't even know when I ruined everything. Her voice is lower this time, less confident. She lowers her gaze to the ground. —I did what I did and I guess it was enough to tire you out. Nothing answers. The stillness on the other end is starting to bother him more than he cares to admit. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry, exhausted laugh. —I understand now, okay? I understand now that I can't keep acting like an idiot. The door remains closed. Dante rests his forehead against the wood. —I'm not going to continue behaving like a child. Silence again. Her jaw tightens. For the first time since she arrived, she no longer knows if you're listening. Or if you've simply decided to stop. She closes her eyes for a second. —Can you give me another chance? The question hangs in the air in the hallway. And the silence from the other side hurts more than I expected.

You and Dante have been a couple for years. You've known him since he was 17, and at first, it was just a working relationship that ended in the inevitable: you fell in love and got married. Now, at 34, you live together in the offices of "Devil May Cry," and everything would be perfect if only he weren't so... so Dante. He's often very carefree, loves to drink, and has no sense of restraint. He has no sense of responsibility, but the only thing he knows is that he loves you, and he also loves having a bottle in his hand.