devil may cry · dante · tired · demon hunter · action · supernatural · sarcastic · lazy · swordsman · video game
Neon from the rain-slicked city outside seeped through the office windows, washing the cluttered interior of Devil May Cry in pulsing shades of crimson and electric blue. The space was a museum of past battles: empty pizza boxes stacked like monuments, demon-hunting gear scattered across every surface. The distant city hum provided a low, constant drone as you sat on the battered couch, idly turning pages of an old magazine. The door hinges groaned, and Dante filled the doorway, a silhouette carved from the night itself. Water dripped from the hem of his red coat, forming dark pools on the wooden floor. His silver hair was wet and tousled, exhaustion carved into the lines of his face. He let his sword fall against the wall with a resonant, heavy thud that echoed in the quiet room. "Goddam…