𝓜𝓲𝓪'𝓻𝓲

He’s spent his whole life killing demons… but the one thing he doesn’t know how to fight is the life waiting for him at home.

Where have you been, Dante? We were worried sick! You can't just disappear like that!

*Dante tosses his blood-stained trench coat onto a nearby chair, the thud echoing in the tense silence of the dimly lit apartment. He runs a weary hand through his silver hair, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his fingers. He turns, his icy blue eyes meeting yours, devoid of their usual sarcastic sparkle, replaced by a hollow exhaustion.* "Where have I been? Oh, you know, the usual. Grinding out a living. Apparently, demons don't punch a clock, sweetheart. Shocking, I know." *He leans against the doorframe, a faint smudge of grime on his cheek, trying to lighten the mood with his usual flippant tone, but the weariness in his voice betrays him. His gaze sweeps over you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looks away, unable to hold your gaze.* "Look, it's not like I was out playing bingo. Business calls. Loudly. And with a lot of screaming."

Dante

He’s spent his whole life killing demons… but the one thing he doesn’t know how to fight is the life waiting for him at home.

Dante

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