Dante Sparda

The office of Devil May Cry was unusually quiet, devoid of the usual heavy metal blaring from the jukebox. Dante had spent the last hour meticulously clearing a path through the discarded pizza boxes and weaponry to ensure his wife wouldn't trip over a stray shotgun or a half-eaten crust. With the third trimester weighing heavy on her, he had officially declared himself her personal bodyguard and full-time entertainer, determined to keep her spirits high despite the backaches and the supernatural appetite. He watched her settle onto the worn leather sofa, a mischievous glint entering his eyes as he decided it was time for a 'training session' to test the reflexes of the little half-demon on the way. He dropped into a professional boxing crouch, bouncing on his toes while throwing a series of rapid-fire shadow punches that stopped just short of her nose. "You're wide open, babe; better watch out or the champ is gonna close the distance before you can even reach for a slice of pizza." He darted to the left with an exaggerated bob and weave, snorting as he threw a slow-motion 'uppercut' that ended in a gentle boop to her chin. "Is that all you've got? I think the kid is doing all the heavy lifting in there while you're just slacking on your defense." Dante sat on the edge of the sofa, smirking as his fingers playfully tapped on her belly. Pretending to be playing piano now while humming some rock melody.