#of course Vergil tries to chew em up and swallow as quickly as possible

[of-pale]

It was an ordinary afternoon at the Devil May Cry office, and Vergil was suffering.

Not in battle—though he might’ve preferred that—but at Dante’s cluttered desk, wading through what could only loosely be described as paperwork. He frowned, flipping through crumpled receipts, half-finished contracts and an ever-growing mountain of overdue bills from Sparda-knows-when.

This was beneath him. All of it.

But since his clouded judgment had led him to cohabit the office with his twin—for now, at least—it couldn’t be helped. Running a devil-hunting business required more than just swinging swords and drawing demonic blood. It also required drowning in administrative incompetence. And as Dante’s efforts in the matter had resulted in this headache-inducing disaster, Vergil had no choice but to take the reins.

Then, a knock came from the front door.

He's come to expect potential customers barging in—some barking demands like they owned the place, others wide-eyed and frantic, pleading for help. Either way, to Vergil, they were all the same: a nuisance.

But knocking?

That was... unusual.

Vergil stood—Yamato untouched but always within reach—and moved to the door with the quiet, controlled steps of someone prepared to greet problems. He opened it to—nothing. The street outside was empty.

He scowled and began to shut the door.

“Uh... hello?”

The voice was soft. Timid.

Vergil looked down.

Three young girls in crisp uniforms stood below his line of sight, clutching colorful boxes. It took him a second to process what he was seeing, which might explain the brief flicker of confusion that crossed his face.

The tallest of the three hesitated under his glacial stare. Her rehearsed pitch faltered, but she gathered her courage and held out a box labeled 'Choco-Chomp Delights'.

“We’re selling cookies to raise money for our scout troop. Would you be interested in buying some?”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed at the box as if it was some kind of trap. His expression, which Dante had once diagnosed as a chronic case of stink-eye, only deepened.

One of the girls instinctively stepped back. Only a second later came the familiar clang of boots on the stairs.

“Alright, Verge,” Dante called, “what unfortunate customer are you terrorizing this time?”

Dante appeared at his brother’s shoulder, all lazy grin and casual swagger. When he spotted the girls—and more importantly, the cookies—his eyes lit up like kids on Christmas morning.

“Girl Scout cookies! Hell yeah. Gimme five boxes.”

Before the scouts could blink, Dante slapped some bills into the tallest girl’s hand and tore open one of the boxes like a starving animal. He devoured a whole cookie in one chomp, somehow managing to spray crumbs everywhere.

“Man, I really needed that,” he said through a mouthful, barely swallowing before he shoved the open box toward Vergil. “And so do you. Might sweeten up that sour-ass glare you’re giving everyone.”

The trio of girls giggled at that until Vergil’s icy gaze flicked toward them again.

Dante quickly gathered the rest of his purchase and offered the scouts a warm thank-you, waving them off with a playful salute before shutting the door.

Vergil raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You do realize these cookies could be poisoned.”

The only threat Dante faced was nearly choking from a burst of laughter. “Are you seriously suggesting some eight-year-olds are handing out demon-poisoned cookies? Try telling me again that you're not paranoid.”

“I am not paranoid. Unlike you, I prefer to stay vigilant.”

“Well, if they are poisoned, then I’ve got all the more reason to share them with you.” Dante popped another handful of cookies into his mouth.

“If they are poisoned, then I finally have a chance to be rid of you. So do sample some more.”

Dante waved a cookie under Vergil’s nose and kept talking with a stuffed mouth. “Come on, one ‘poisoned’ cookie won’t kill you. I’ve had a few already, and I’m still breathing.”

“Unfortunately so.”

There was a pause. A long one.

Vergil’s gaze drifted to the open box, then to the cookie Dante was waving under his nose as an insult. He seemed to sniff at it but said nothing. Just reached out and plucked his own, brand new cookie from the box.

He examined it first, as though it might indeed be cursed. Then, with a slow resignation, he took a small bite.

Silence.

Vergil's expression didn’t change—barely a twitch. But he chewed. Swallowed. Took a breath.

Dante watched, eyes wide with anticipation. “Well?” he prodded.

Vergil calmly finished the rest of the cookie, his face unreadable. “It is... tolerable.”

Dante grinned like he’d just won a decades-long war. “You like it.”

“I tolerated it.”

“Wow. You loved it. I’m buying more next time.”

Vergil scoffed and turned back toward the desk, refusing to eat another cookie. “Your delusions are becoming more concerning by the day.”

Dante tossed another chocolate cookie into his mouth with a smug crunch. “Whatever you say. We’re both poisoned now.”

A week later

The scouts knocked again, nervously.

This time, there was no slow horror-movie door creak. No icy glare.

Vergil opened the door in one smooth motion and got straight to business.

“I’ll buy your whole stock.”

The girls blinked.

Vergil glanced behind him, just once, toward the stairs.

“…And your silence regarding this transaction.”