A/N: The Adventures of Chibi Vergil is still in editing, so I'll throw this out first :)
[In Case Of Emergency, Break Glass Heart]
Many things done would be generally be forgiven if the people of a group were obviously drunk, but it didn't mean that Vergil had to be happy about the ruckus that was currently being made in the bar by the small group of four girls who were clearly extremely drunk. Vergil hadn't really bothered about them –like how customers were indifferent about the presence of others –but that intention had been ruined when the girls' voices began to rise in volume, until they were shouting, screaming and crying at each other.
It was clearly a mess of four completely drunk girls communicating with each other in their inebriated language, and Vergil took another sip from his vodka, glad to taste the hint of mint to mellow the hard edge to the liquor. His eyes flitted briefly to look at the group of girls –ladies, actually –when they screamed in unison over something one of them had just said, and they began to bawl.
"Sorry about the noise." The bartender said in front of him, a look of pity hanging on his face. "Sara and her friends are usual customers and they are not always like that. But Sara's boyfriend of five years just cheated and dumped her, so the girls are having one night to blast all the sorrows away."
"Do you allow customers to make enough noise to disturb the sanity of others just because they are your regulars?" Vergil asked back lowly in reply, turning his icy blue eyes up at the bartender while he hid the lower half of his face behind the glass, taking another sip.
"Not usually. But Sara is a real nice girl, and I've seen how dedicated she is to her man. I'm willing to forgive them today, so if you can't stand it, I apologise but you should leave. There is no bad intention here, Vergil. Just pity for the poor girl enough to not make her day any worse than it already is."
The bartender had seen people of many different types in his bar the past ten years, but there was no one quite striking as the Sparda brothers that occasionally dropped by for a drink or two. The brothers might look alike, but the bartender had been forced to throw Dante Sparda out of the bar a few times because of his lady-hunting nature particularly after taking a few drinks. Vergil Sparda, on the other hand, always come in alone, took hard drinks by himself by the bar, seemingly to take his time to reflect on life, before paying and walking off –looking completely unaffected regardless of how many glasses and how strong the liquor consumed.
"Fine." Vergil threw the last of his vodka down, feeling the spicy burn in his throat. "It should be time I got back anyway. If Dante is not done by now, then the woman has to go."
The bartender knew that the only reason why Vergil would appear in the bar this late at night was because his twin brother was having fun with another woman in their apartment, and Vergil never liked to hear the sounds of his brother's night activities.
"I apologise once again." The bartender expressed, watching as Vergil threw a few stack of notes on the counter before sliding his butt off the chair. Instead of making for the door however, Vergil moved to the restroom to relieve himself before heading home, feeling more or less still rather sober. He had hoped to nurture a warmth inside him with help of liquor to accompany his walk home in the cold night, but it seemed like it wasn't happening.
Vergil was still in mid-stream when the door to the rest room slammed wide open. It was a rather awkward position to be caught in, as he turned to give the inconsiderate person a glare for his breech of common etiquette.
The person he ended up glaring at turned out to be a 'she', as the woman that the bartender had pointed out to him as Sara stood in the doorway with her eyes barely open. Rather, she wasn't standing, but leaning heavily against the door instead.
For a moment, Vergil froze at the realisation that he was still in the middle of doing his business with everything hanging out from his zipper in full view of the woman. Still, there was nothing that could be said when the woman slapped her hand over her mouth, made a gagging noise before pushing off from the door. The clearly drunk woman swayed heavily from left to right as she ignored Vergil's presence completely, somehow managing a very drunk and zig-zagged route towards the cubicles. The door slammed close without the sound of locks being engaged, and it was very soon that the sound of a woman throwing everything that had been in her gut out into the toilet was loud in the restroom.
Vergil silently continued his business as quickly as he could, flushing and washing his hands while the sounds of a woman being violently sick occurred in the background. It was easy to assume that she had drunkenly mistaken the ladies for the gents and hadn't been bothered to correct her mistake in her haste to get her upturning guts into the toilet.
Vergil had been about to simply go on with his life as if nothing had happened, but instincts made him hesitate a little when he realised that it was all quiet in the cubicle. He had heard a good amount of things being splashed into the toilet, but afterwards it had been completely silent. Had the woman completely blacked out on the toilet bowl?
Frowning to himself for being overly nosy, Vergil shook his head and stepped out of the gents, rounding back to the front where the bar was. This time, he was a little surprised to find it with its usual quietness –the small chatter of only a few customers left. The group that had been making a mess in the corner of the bar was completely missing now.
"You're still here? I thought you already left." The bartender had obviously spied Vergil's walking back out from the corridor that led to the restrooms. "The ladies have left."
"One of them is probably blacked out after puking her guts out in the gents." Vergil reported. "Where are the others? Aren't they a group?"
"Someone remained? I called a cab for them. It left seconds ago." The bartender sounded surprised. "Can I trouble you to bring her out? I'll call another cab for her. Can't leave her puking in the gents, can we?"
Though Vergil personally didn't like to waste any extra effort helping others for no reason, this was the bartender –and also the owner –of the bar that he always went to for refuge when Dante engaged in his sexual activities late at night at home. If he was chased out of this place because he refused to help the bartender out, Vergil wasn't sure if he could find another place so close to his apartment that was still open at such an ungodly hour.
Nodding quietly, he headed back the way he came and pushed through the door of the gents with a sigh.
Where it had been more or less silent when Vergil had stepped out, there was sound coming from the woman now. The high-pitched voice confirmed to Vergil that it was definitely still the same woman in the gents, and she was currently sobbing badly. A little understanding of her circumstance, but not bothering to feel any more pity to her than he had to –because he knew that there were probably millions of people suffering heart breaks at the moment all around the world –Vergil pushed the door of the cubicle open, expecting a mess.
What met him was not far off from his expectations, as vomit dotted the front of the woman's clothes a little, a little that had spilt off the side of the toilet bowl and on the floor. The woman herself was sitting on the floor, crying and wiping the tears out of her eyes with her dirty, vomit-stained hand.
The stench was remarkably amazing –so much more so for Vergil's heightened sense of smell as a half-demon.
Grimacing at the fact that he most probably had to physically man-handle this bundle who was clearly too weak or dizzy to find her feet properly without wanting to upturn her guts, Vergil held his breath as he ventured further into the cubicle.
"You're a complete wreck. We're getting you home." Vergil said firmly, a hand closing over the cleanest patch on her forearm that he could find. "Work with me, woman."
Of course, a drunk woman could not obey much of his order at all, and he found himself relying on his strength to drag the woman off the floor like a limp doll by her arm. The disorientation of suddenly leaning on someone finally cleared from the woman's head when they were in the middle of the corridor leading back to the front where the rest of the bar –and more importantly, the exit –was.
Vergil froze when the woman –who had been largely limp this whole while with stumbling legs –finally moved on her own, and wrapped her limp arm around his front. Swinging her body so that she was pressed to him tightly in a bear hug –with all vomit on her shirt and pants –Vergil found the woman plastered to him as she began to cry all over again.
"Don't leave me, Nathan. I'll do anything you want. I swear! Just don't leave me, please. I don't even mind that you've slept with Christine... Please just don't leave me. I don't know how to live without you..." The woman sobbed badly against Vergil's shirt, rubbing her face unceremoniously against his chest and clinging on to him like she would never let go.
"I am not your ex-boyfriend. Do let me go." Vergil said clearly, picking the woman's hands off from around him, but the drunkness of the woman made her believe that the person peeling her off was her boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend). Thus, it was a scramble for the woman to cling on to him, begging and crying and sobbing while deflecting Vergil's hands, grabbing hold of whatever she could of him.
"Don't do this to me, Nathan... I still love you. We've been together for five years! All those memories, can you really give it up just like that?" The sobbing drunk was becoming the angry drunk, as instead of clinging on him now, the woman wrapped her fists with the front of Vergil's shirt, shaking him.
Vergil couldn't believe that he –a son of Sparda –was letting himself be thrown around by a drunk woman of such low calibre.
"Lady, I insist that I am not Nathan." Vergil closed his hands over the wrists of the lady's, holding it tightly to show that he wasn't playing around either. "Now let me go."
"Not so easy, you bastard! I know you always do this. You're the same guy who said that if we were in a beauty pageant, I would be second because you know you're always going to be the first in my heart. It's your ego talking, Nathan. I'll let you keep whatever ego you want; just don't leave me!" Drunk hands were still refusing to give up the front of Vergil's shirt as the tear-filled eyes looked up at Vergil with the plea clear in her eyes.
But what could Vergil do? He wasn't this Nathan, and it was a fact that the woman's ex-boyfriend had broken up with her.
Vergil silently thought that it was probably a good thing that this Nathan had broken up with this woman, because he sounded like a fine specimen of the type of men that Vergil despised to the extent of wanting to scrape these kind of men off the bottom of his shoe.
"Don't tell me that last 5 years was completely nothing to you..." The woman was losing strength in her demands, and Vergil relaxed a little to know that she was sliding back to some hazy unconsciousness. All he had to do was just to wait this bout of strength out, and then he would just dump her into a taxi like a sack of potatoes, then get back home.
"Don't go... Don't leave...." The woman's voice was getting softer and softer, and Vergil breathed a short sigh of relief to know that the blank-out was about to happen anytime soon. He held on to the woman's shoulder as her fists uncurled from his shirt, but palms pressed on his chest instead, leaning her weight on him. Her face was facing down now as her words once more turned to incoherent mumbling.
"Miss?" Vergil ventured to ask when even the mumbling faded away, and he felt her sway under his hands.
"I'm fine... I'm fine..." The very soft reply whispered.
Vergil didn't get the chance to relax at all.
Because in the very next moment, the woman had puked all over him.
________________________________________________________________________________
Vergil took a seat in front of the counter.
"One of the usual."
"You're here early today. What brings?" The bartender asked conversationally while hands began to get busy mixing Vergil's usual drink. It was four in the afternoon, and the bar was as empty as it was supposed to be. The regular customers at this time period were minding their own businesses, and the only person who had appeared out of routine was sitting at the counter.
"It's my parents' death anniversary today, and Dante's out of town on a mission." Vergil answered. He didn't need to provide more explanation, because both the bartender and he knew that Vergil was here so early in the afternoon because he fully intended to drink as much as he could, and spend the rest of the day and night in warm reminiscence.
"I'd better bring out the big boys today." The bartender placed Vergil's first of many drinks in front of him, then moved to where he kept his stronger liquors –those that were so strong that many customers had complained that they tasted too medicinal to be savoury at all. The bartender had always kept these kinds of reject liquor away for emergency situations –and Vergil's case was certainly a situation that needed these big boys.
"I will be keeping you busy today." Vergil promised when the bartender waved the bottles to show that he was fully prepared for Vergil's appetite. "Please keep the glass in my hand always full."
"Not a problem. You want me to call a cab when you're down?"
"Please do." Vergil answered, then passed the bartender a piece of paper with an address written down in a neat handwriting. "And get the driver to send me here because I do not intend to be conscious enough to give an address."
Vergil was seriously going all out on his parents' anniversary. The bartender had seen Vergil slightly drunk before, but the man had always left the bar on his own two feet –albeit sometimes stumbling a little. This was the first time the bartender was about to see Vergil in his completely drunk state, and very briefly wondered what kind of a drunk Vergil would be like right before he blacked out.
Half an hour and five glasses of slow drinks later, someone took the seat beside Vergil at the counter. He didn't bother to look up, because it was not his business to concern himself with the drinks ordered by the woman sitting beside him.
What piqued his curiosity slightly was when the bartender sighed as the newcomer was being addressed.
"Here again?" It was strange to hear a bartender sounding regretful to see a customer again.
"I'm sorry, Jack, but this is the only way." The voice that replied was familiar, but Vergil had met many people and heard many voices before, so he couldn't pin down a name or face to that voice that he was rather sure he had heard before.
"I know I am in no position to make a judgement, but at least let me give you a piece of advice. He's not worth it. I know you still love him very badly, but you need to reconcile with yourself the fact that he's not coming back. Even if he comes back, he'll never be like what he was; because if a man can cheat on your once, he can always do it again." The bartender –though a man himself –advised like the knowledgeable best girlfriend of main characters in dramas and novels.
"I know all of that, but it isn't getting better. The tears come even if I don't want them. I want to hate him, but I can't. I know he is despicable. I know he is the worst kind of guy out there, but I just can't stop thinking about him. 5 years made him a big part of my life. I can't cut it out just like that."
"I wish I could do something for you, dear, but nobody can help you if you don't help yourself first." The bartender expressed with pity, but seemed to remember something at the last moment. "Oh, the man who brought you back to your place that night is here. He's Vergil."
Vergil's silent suspicion was confirmed with the introduction and since the attention was being diverted over to him, Vergil supposed that it was simply normal to look up from his drink at the woman.
"Vergil, meet Sara. You helped her the other day." The bartender introduced as they made eye contact, a faint blush of embarrassment lightening up on the cheeks of the lady as Vergil maintained his poker face.
"Hello." The woman introduced as Sara managed a sheepish smile. "Thank you for your help the other day. I honestly don't remember much of what happened, but I know that I puked on you. I gave Jack some money to pass over to you in compensation for your clothes. Did you...?"
"Yes, thank you." Vergil answered shortly. He didn't bother to say that the woman had overestimated the price of his outfit, because that would bring them into a further conversation –which was something that Vergil wasn't looking forward to on the anniversary of his parents' death.
"Um... did I... Did I do or say anything weird?" The woman didn't seem to notice that Vergil wasn't interested in making conversation.
"Other than the fact that you were a badly crying mess?" Vergil supposed that the 5 previous glasses of liquor were making his tongue looser than usual. While his mother had died early, he clearly remembered his early lessons from her about treating women with respect. None of those lessons had included being politely frank with a woman who had gone through an embarrassing scene, though.
"Err... yes, other than that." Sara's face went a deeper shade of red, and she hadn't even taken her first sip of the late afternoon yet.
"You ran into the gents while I was in the middle of my business, puked in the cubicle, and passed out there. Afterwards, when you woke up, you were crying and babbling alone in the cubicle. The bartender told me to get you, and you puked on me in reply for that." Vergil answered in detail, tossing the contents of his glass back and feeling the burn once more. His vision blurred a little around the edges as he swallowed the mouthful, a lingering warmth in his chest protecting him from the harsh coldness of reality.
"I-I'm sorry."
"You puked a few more times, but since you completely blacked out after that, it wasn't that hard to deal." Vergil simply felt the obligation to inform the woman, waiting for the bartender to refill his glass.
"Oh... Um..." The woman was clearly put in a spot given Vergil's frank words, but he was in no mood to make her feel better when he was feeling horrible himself.
"Get someone more reliable when you intend to drink yourself to such a state." Vergil replied in a tone that clearly said that he intended to end the conversation there, and it appeared that she had finally gotten it when she remained quiet.
Glad that he was left to his own world and his own drink again, Vergil once more let himself sink into his memories and sorrows with the help of the alcohol. Reaching well into his twentieth glass, he was glad to feel the light-headedness assaulting him, creating a light pillow of ease around his head. Closing his eyes, he could almost imagine himself back in his childhood, with the sounds of his and Dante's playing in the background, their father whistling to himself while Sparda swung the axe on the firewood, their mother humming a beautiful tune softly while she made dinner. He could almost smell the soil, his mother's cooking, the woody scent as the firewood was being chopped up...
"Shit." The sudden word pierced through his reverie, and Vergil opened his eyes. His vision took a long moment to sharpen, but they did eventually to show himself back in a dimly-lit bar; the natural light from the evening sun completely gone and replaced with artificial light given by the soft orange-yellow hue of the overhead lamps.
Vergil looked up briefly to check that his glass was still full and waiting, not very sure who it was that had broken him out of his reverie, but not wanting to know as well. All he wanted at this point is to drink more, and sink himself back into those days again, when things were much easier, and his worries much lesser.
"Hide me." Vergil heard someone say, and suddenly someone was leaning into his personal space. Instincts made him try to lean back, but a strong hand on his arm forced him to hold in place; face being kept dangerously close to this new person who had suddenly intruded on him. His vision took a long time to focus on the familiarity of the face and eyes that stared back at him.
"What are you doing?" Vergil demanded, hearing his own voice a little far away. The alcohol was doing very well, but the woman who had once puked on him –Sara –was disrupting his drinking.
"Hide me." She repeated, then moved a little to peek past Vergil's shoulder to someone behind him. "Nathan is here."
"Nathan, your ex?" Vergil asked in slow, alcohol-addled confusion.
"Yes. I can't let him see me in such a horrible situation. My eyes are all red from crying and my cheeks have been swollen the past week. I'm pretty sure my lipstick has mostly smudged on the glass, and most of my makeup is gone with the tears." The woman answered. If Vergil was honest, he didn't see much of those flaws that the woman had just described –mainly only the tell-tale red eyes that she had been crying.
"Why wouldn't you want to let him see you like this? You're still you." Vergil, under any normal circumstance, would not bother himself with somebody else's business, but the situation now was that Vergil was not in his most normal mood. He had downed slightly more than twenty glasses of the bartender's strongest liquor, and was feeling light-headed and loose-tongued. His thoughts were loose in many places, and he was rather sure that if someone gave him a shake now, all those thoughts would fall out of place and come tumbling out all at once.
"But he just came in with that bitch that he cheated on me with! And she's all made up and dressed like a slut." Sara was clearly more sober between the 2 of them currently with her straight-forward, non-slurred words.
"Then what do you want to do? Avoid him for the rest of your life?" Vergil raised his cup and downed the cup once more, signalling to the bartender that he was running dry once more. He gave a short cough when the alcohol went down the wrong path, burning into his lungs. "It's going to always be a fact that the pathetic man chose someone else over you. Instead of crying over it and hiding whenever he appears, why don't you do something else more useful?"
"B-But... what can I do? I still love him." Sober women shouldn't be talking to drunk men, but Sara clearly didn't know better at all.
"If you insist on playing the victim forever, then you are no better than that woman who stole your boyfriend." Vergil scoffed. "Crying and saying that you still love him is the most ridiculous thing to do now. He doesn't love you anymore, so what's the point in saying those useless things?"
"Then what is it that you think I should do?" Sara frowned, clearly not having expected Vergil's straight and ruthlessly honest words. If the woman was expecting him to sanitise his words and impressions about her, then she would do much better approaching him while he was still sober.
"There is no need to tell you." Vergil rested his cup on the table, then slid himself off the chair from the counter.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he should not be looking for trouble –particularly not on his parent's death anniversary, but Vergil was nicely drunk and his inhibitions were taking a holiday at the moment. Vergil at the moment was simply not the usual Vergil Sparda, but a man who was more or less 70% drunk.
"Which one of these guys here is your bastard man?" Vergil asked, turning around and not surprised to find a small crowd in the bar. This place was in a good location and thus was well-visited.
"That one in the back... the one wearing a dark blue button down and his sleeves folded back. He is with the woman in the red dress." He heard a weak, unsure reply from behind him, where Sara was still doing her best trying to hide. "W-What are you going to do?"
"Teaching a man a lesson." Vergil answered half-drunkenly, then set off on his target. The back of his mind –the sober part of his mind –screamed to him that this was not a demon-hunting session, and that he shouldn't go all out if he didn't want to end up with a murder case in his hands. However, the drunk part of his mind simply ignored all warnings, alarm bells and inhibitions as he ambled past the tables –surprised to find himself able to walk in a rather straight course –and quickly reached the target table.
"Nathan?" Vergil was sober enough to ask, waiting for the confused man to give a polite and curious nod.
"Sara sends her regards." Vergil answered.
He might be drunk, but Vergil's smile would have hung on his face anyway even if he was sober at the immediate moment that his arm reared back and snapped forth, his fingers curling to form a fist.
________________________________________________________________________________
Vergil sat on the chair, leaning forth and balancing his heavy head within the palms of his hands that were propped up with elbows on his knees. He was in that position for so long that he felt an ache settling in his muscles, but still he ignored his limbs falling asleep as he struggled with himself.
The quiet hustle bustle in the background irritated Vergil, but what irritated him even more was himself.
More specifically, he was horrified at himself for having done something so insane; something so Dante-like. He had always prided himself in being straight-laced; a man of strict morals and efficiency with no tolerance for any sort of nonsense. And yet here he sat, in the middle of a police station, waiting for his administration of bail to done.
Because he was waiting in the room alone, it didn't take much brain cells to assume that the footsteps echoing in the corridor and opening the door was someone coming to get him. Still, Vergil refused to move from his seat when the footsteps moved closer to him.
"Here. It'll help with the hangover."
Vergil finally brought his head out of his hands upon the recognition of a familiar voice, looking up to see a cup filling his vision. He trailed his eyes upwards, looking up at the owner of the hand who was holding on to the cup, offering him what smelt suspiciously like coffee.
"Am I free to go now?" He asked, not moving to accept the coffee just as yet.
"Yes. Do you need me to see you home?"
"I don't need escorting." Vergil answered quickly, a little offended that a woman was offering to send him home when it rightfully should be the other way around. Still, the offence didn't last long, because Vergil's shame was a stronger emotion at the moment. "I'll return you what you paid for my bail. Just write me your bank account number and tell me how much you paid. I will wire it as soon as I can."
"There's no need." Sara said, pushing the coffee closer to Vergil with more insistence now. In her other hand held the other cup meant for herself, and thus Vergil obliged himself to accept the offered cup since he assumed that the woman wasn't about to drink both cups by herself if he rejected her firmly. "I can afford your bail. It is a good price to pay in return for what I saw back at the bar. You have experience in these kinds of things often?"
"I am a demon hunter by profession." Vergil confessed, though he wasn't very proud to declare this at the moment.
"I see. That's why you were able to completely beat Nathan to bits. He used to be a gang member in our younger days and though he quit after we started dating, he went to pick up professional boxing and Muay Thai. He is a Muay Thai champion in the region. I didn't think you'd survive." Sara confessed.
"I didn't think he would survive." Vergil corrected, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. The aftertaste settled heavily in his mouth, though it did much to wipe off the scent of old alcohol in his mouth. It hadn't helped that the last thing he had to drink was the alcohol back at the bar hours ago, and so the lingering taste of alcohol had been persistent. "I had a hard time keeping myself back. I'm glad that I was able to control enough to only be charged with assault."
"We should leave." Sara said beckoning towards the door. "This room might be in use for some other cases or something. Besides, I don't want to stay here longer than I have to."
"Neither do I." Vergil agreed, and both of them silently made their way through the corridors. Collecting his personal belongings at a counter, Vergil and Sara finally made it out of the police station minutes later, walking side by side awkwardly.
"Do you get into fights like that often?" Sara broke their silence with a sudden question.
"No. This was my first time getting into something so ugly willingly."
"Then why did you...?"
"I was drunk." Vergil confessed. "I don't usually go looking for fights, but you caught me on a bad day."
"I saw. You were drinking a lot, and Jack was mixing you things from the stash that many people complained were too strong."
"They are just right for me. I am a half-demon, so alcohol needs to be stronger to hit the right degree." Vergil explained. These were things that he normally would not tell just anyone, but he felt a strange sense of obligation to answer the woman's question now that she had paid an unknown sum of money to bail him out of jail. While the original cause of why he started fighting in the bar in the first place was because of Sara, Vergil could not deny that it was his fault that things turned out so badly that an ambulance had to be called for Nathan, and a police car for Vergil. Sara had no obligations to bail him out of jail because everything had been his choice, but she had done it anyway, and that had unwittingly put Vergil in a position of moral debt.
"Oh, so the reason you were able to beat Nathan so easily was because you are..." Sara commented with epiphany.
"Half-demon and a demon hunter, yes." Vergil completed the sentence for the woman. "For what is worth, I apologise for acting on my own in your business."
"No worries." A light laugh surprised Vergil, and he turned to get a good look at his companion in the cold night, watching her expression of mirth, eyes glinting with amusement. The pain that had been there the last time he met her was now more or less missing –though Vergil knew better than to trust the woman's look at the moment. Heartbreak was something that could come back to haunt anyone at any time, and was basically a pesky thing that Vergil knew better than to concern himself about. "That was actually one of the best thing anyone has done to me since I broke up. Thank you for helping a stranger like me out, Vergil."
"I didn't do much. All I did was to get into a fight, and I wouldn't even have done with for you or anyone if I had been sober."
"It didn't change the fact that you did it anyway." Sara's answer was light and forgiving, and Vergil watched as the woman fearlessly took a few steps in front of them, turning back and walking backwards to keep a good space between them. The smile that hung on her face was bright regardless of the puffy red eyes of continued sobbing. "Thanks to you, I feel like I've taken my first step of forgetting that jerk Nathan."
"Are you still going to keep crying about how you still love him and want him back?" Vergil questioned suspiciously. Was taking the first step easy just like that?
"No." Sara answered with a bright smile. "When I think of those things, I'll think of you. I've decided. You're my emergency cure."
"Emergency cure?" Vergil repeated. "I do not recall wanting to be part of anything like that."
"But you made yourself a part of it when you were drunk." Sara's grin was getting brighter and happier. "You're my emergency go-to man, Vergil. When I think of Nathan, I'm going to think of you and how I grinned when you punched him in the face."
"If that is what puts you at ease and me in peace." Vergil shrugged, flagging down a stray cab that was taking a rare drive down the deserted street in the dead of the night. "The night is late."
Sara took the cue when she saw one, stepping into the cab when Vergil opened the door for her, giving the driver her address.
"Will I see you around?" Sara poked her head out of the window as the cab began to move, leaving the man standing lone in the street.
"Hopefully not." Vergil answered honestly, waving a quick goodbye. "But if we do, never tell me about your love ever again."