Okay so. Netflix DMC. Danlady. Canon divergence from the end of episode 8. Let's go.
Lady is nursing her third coffee when Dante finally limps through the door.
The tense, rigid line of her shoulders relaxes a fraction when he sits down heavily on the bench opposite her, and sets his sword on the table with a solid thump.
“Wasn’t sure you were going to show,” Lady says, tone somehow even, despite the stupid fucking butterflies flapping around in her chest. She takes another sip of her coffee, appreciating the burn of the too-hot liquid sliding down her throat.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to no-show on our first real date,” Dante says, flashing her a grin.
But his smile doesn’t look right – it’s forced and brittle, painted over pain.
“Just had to wait until most of the internal bleeding stopped,” he continues, like this is a normal conversation to have. “Think I might have broken my back in a few places too.” He rolls his head from one shoulder to the next and something cracks loudly.
Lady hates that she’s torn between shaking him for making her worry and climbing over the table to pull him into a kiss right there in the diner. “I think you might still be concussed if you’re counting this as a date,” she eventually manages, raising one eyebrow at him over the rim of her coffee cup.
Dante laughs a little at that, and something uncurls in Lady’s chest at seeing his more genuine smile. He reaches a hand onto the table between them and makes a grabby motion, eyes flicking between her and the coffee.
Lady sighs dramatically and passes it over.
While he’s drinking she examines him more closely: he’s covered in patches of blood. There’s even blood in his hair – dramatic red against white – and a smear of it from his mouth, where he’d clearly tried to wipe it away.
