You are still apologising. [ he says, speaking calmly, despite the fact that he truly didn't feel calm. There was a slight shake in his shoulders--one that he's truly trying to step out, steel down. he shifts a little closer, his hands on Dante's coat smoothing out a little as he considers wrapping them around the man.

does he even want to be close to him right now? his brain is fighting two emotions--one to stay close, as he'd finally gotten what he wanted. (He? Vergil? This man's brother? Or himself?) To be protected, to have someone to rely on, family that actually cared about him and not just his success, what sort of name he made for himself.

'It was my fault'.
There's that guilt that Vergil always feels, but now it's mirrored back on him. Was it dante's fault? Is that why he was so desperate to protect him, now, after finding him as a reincarnated version of the man he'd... lost?
Because he felt it was his fault things went wrong in the first place?

His brain is moving faster than his thoughts can keep up with.

His hands grip the man's coat again, his grip so tight the leather squeaks under his fingertips. ]

It's how you scared the damn beast away, isn't it.

[ he finally finds his words again, opening his eyes. His forehead is still pressed to dante's, there are still hands on his face. ]

It wasn't your face in my memories.
Yours simply.
Warped into... one of dozens that chased me. Through a graveyard.
Singing for the blood of Sparda.