[ Vergil isn't the only one feeling like a petty child in this moment; Wolfwood wants to shout and carry on and throw Dante's pity, his kindness back in his face, to call his brother out for the undercurrent of loathing in his voice, to yell about how the universe is shit and having to settle for the barest crust of Vergil's tolerance while digging into the meat of Dante's empathy makes him feel absolutely out of his mind with anger and heartache and every other ugly thing between
but he doesn't
he breathes out, slow, shoulders slumping as Dante snaps at him, looking utterly defeated for a moment, lost in his own skin as he does the other thing he's good at, when he can't run
doing what he's told. ]
Fine. That's easy enough. [ and it's not that the tension is gone; Wolfwood is just wearing it around his neck like a chain and he's squaring his shoulders so that the collar doesn't look too heavy, one hand fisted in his gun's cover and the other holding the cooled remains of a cigarette. ]
Thank you. I'll make it up to you. [ and he tries to inject some of that levity into his voice, some of that kind of rude, kind of casual ease that usually colors his speech pattern, though it likely rings hollow in the moment. ]
no subject
but he doesn't
he breathes out, slow, shoulders slumping as Dante snaps at him, looking utterly defeated for a moment, lost in his own skin as he does the other thing he's good at, when he can't run
doing what he's told. ]
Fine. That's easy enough. [ and it's not that the tension is gone; Wolfwood is just wearing it around his neck like a chain and he's squaring his shoulders so that the collar doesn't look too heavy, one hand fisted in his gun's cover and the other holding the cooled remains of a cigarette. ]
Thank you. I'll make it up to you. [ and he tries to inject some of that levity into his voice, some of that kind of rude, kind of casual ease that usually colors his speech pattern, though it likely rings hollow in the moment. ]