It might be that Gilgamesh doesn't seem--moved? to comfort Vergil? He doesn't watch every frightened jump, every quaver in his hand and ask if he's okay, if he's fine, every inch of him dripping with worry, with pity, with kindness.

Gilgamesh may seem--stony, unmoved. But that's the point of Gilgamesh--to be unchanging, unbent and unbowed no matter what happens in life. He coaxed Vergil out with him because he continues to act like the man is fine, like there's no reason for him to be afraid, dogged by shadows and full of fear.

So Gilgamesh walks into a foreign world and looks for weird little tree animals, and he throws women that he's half-familiar with into the trees to accomplish his goal. Ritsuka goes up, Ritsuka comes down, apple in hand---a little chime sounds and Gilgamesh flits his eyes over a... relatively perplexed looking little beet-child, and then his attention comes back to Ritsuka because he really should catch her

and then Vergil does it for him. "Ah, perfect timing," he says, blase, as if Ritsuka was completely separate of danger, grinning as Vergil curses at him and goes on a rant and Vergil's glittering, demonic self bears her to the ground, safe and gentle. "What? The human body can roll, can it not? Behold, though. We've a new guest."

The korok is staring at them, leaf in hand--and despite it having a drawn leaf for a place, it radiates a vegetal sort of... bewilderment.