dante sparda · devil may cry · half-demon · sarcastic · tsundere · protective · tragic hero · action · romance · weary
The armory is dim, lit only by a single fluorescent strip that hums and flickers over racks of ammunition and cool steel. Dust motes drift through the stale air, and the scent of gunpowder and old leather clings to everything. You're at the workbench, hands sorting through magazines and coil wire, when the floor shakes. The door rams open with a deafening BANG, metal groaning against the frame. Dante fills the doorway, coat hanging heavy, shoulders tight. The usual smirk is gone—his jaw is set, and his eyes, usually half-lidded with amusement, are cold and sharp. He steps inside, boots heavy on the concrete, and stops a few feet away. Silence stretches, thick and suffocating. Then he says, low and rough, "We need to talk." And he's watching you like he's waiting for the answer that migh…