[When he took his first step in the office, he stopped at his first step. A 'thump' in the next room. Sighing, Dante walked through the dark office with a hand stolen in his coat, drawing Ebony with a playful hum. No demons. He couldn't smell any so, chances were, his would-be robber was human... or a cat. Stalking through the dark, the heavy leather of his gear and coat making little noise with eerie soft boot-steps.
Maybe he'd caught her off guard when he came in so suddenly but his intruder found her at the door, his eyes bulging wide when, even in that dimly lit office, he could see a familiar pair of glasses and hat combination. The sort of thing she'd wear when they went out and a body spray he recognized. All those things were common enough on their own but it was the combination that prompted him to shove his gun back in its holster, secure behind his back.]
Hey. [There was a little smile on his face, almost sad. At that point, wasn't everything over? He was there in his gear, dressed in sleek leather made for flashiness and movement alike, with the sort of thin leather gloves that made gripping a pistol comfortable and a sword resting on his back as if he were toting it straight out of cosplay. He might have blended right in at a convention if not for the specks of real blood on its handle.
It must have been Enzo's screw-up. The jackass must have let something slip to her where they'd set up shop. At that point, he couldn't make a single excuse and simply planted a hand on his hip, sighing.]
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She didn't do anything wrong.
Maybe he'd caught her off guard when he came in so suddenly but his intruder found her at the door, his eyes bulging wide when, even in that dimly lit office, he could see a familiar pair of glasses and hat combination. The sort of thing she'd wear when they went out and a body spray he recognized. All those things were common enough on their own but it was the combination that prompted him to shove his gun back in its holster, secure behind his back.]
Hey. [There was a little smile on his face, almost sad. At that point, wasn't everything over? He was there in his gear, dressed in sleek leather made for flashiness and movement alike, with the sort of thin leather gloves that made gripping a pistol comfortable and a sword resting on his back as if he were toting it straight out of cosplay. He might have blended right in at a convention if not for the specks of real blood on its handle.
It must have been Enzo's screw-up. The jackass must have let something slip to her where they'd set up shop. At that point, he couldn't make a single excuse and simply planted a hand on his hip, sighing.]
Dunno why I thought this wouldn't happen.