[ it's a good thing to think about on top of everything else there was to talk about. He was absolutely going to bitch and complain about the mess of his pantry, the several broken items in the hallway-- he was going to be so upset about it.

But at the very least, Dante's methods on getting it out were so powerfully effective--horrifying waking nightmare Vergil just experienced aside--that the bear didn't end up breaking anything in the shop. It's the little things you appreciate.

But for now, he'll answer Dante's questions. Nodding his head--awkward as it is as they're pressed together as if they're children huddling from a storm-- his lips pulling back in a frown as dante fills in the blanks he was missing. Sparda.
Father.
The demon whose blood is in their veins. ]

Explains why they were after me, then. If they were after 'Sparda' blood, who better than one of his very small, very unprotected sons, hm.
[ dante was in the fire, his mother was in the fire. he remembers the thoughts that came to his mind; they were already dead. there was noone coming to protect him. ] They got what they wanted. As if I had any way to protect myself. The memory is vivid. But they tore me to pieces in that graveyard.
Up until I called ... a sword, into my hands.
They stole it. Ran it through my stomach.

...And then everything got very hot. Like my blood was burning, there was something. Someone, rising up out from under my skin, in that moment.

You shook me out of the memory just as I remember starting to tear them apart, instead.