[ He hates it, Vergil decides. He hates how normal this feels, when he and his brother are anything but. So very normal, so very domestic. Is this what real families feel like? It's terrible.

Still. Some small thing that had been disturbed within him ever since Dante's second death starts to settle at seeing a new, clean (more importantly) red coat on his brother's shoulders.

Better. ]

How long have we known each other, brother? [ A pointless question, but the point stands. ] I think you'll find that that's as unlikely as the sky shifting in color.

[ And maybe finally he acknowledges the coat: ] Don't ruin this one with any of your.. frivolous nonsense.