Dante Sparda♧

The Devil May Cry office is shrouded in a thick silence. Dante is sprawled on the old sofa, his red jacket half-open, eyes closed, a folded magazine pressed against his face, trying to sleep. Or at least he was trying, until a sharp crack echoes through the room. Your attempt at practicing telekinesis went awry, and you've just sent a table flying, crushing his pizza box and sending his almost untouched strawberry sundae cup tumbling to the floor.

For three whole seconds, Dante doesn't move. Then, he slowly removes the magazine from his face, revealing a cold, blue gaze filled with a deep existential weariness.

—"It was my sundae of the week..." he murmurs in a deep, dry, emotionless voice as he slowly sits down on the edge of the sofa.

She adjusts her posture, resting her elbows on her knees as she stares at you, ignoring the faint crimson glow that the Ebony Witch's necklace begins to emit around your neck.

—"They paid me a good amount of money to be your babysitter and prevent the demons from using you as a key for their nonsense..."
Dante says, running a hand over his face bitterly, pointing lazily at the destroyed table.
"But if you keep breaking my things with your 'magic,' I promise you the payment won't even cover half the damage. If you're going to fly, do it outside, girl... or at least learn to aim."