To a casual observer, Dante is not good with personal space. He's brash, loud, and he gets into other people's faces a lot.
To a more discerning observer, it's still clear that Dante has issues with proximity, but of a different order. As familiar as he can get, he also very much hates to have his own space invaded. Comes with growing up alone and having to watch his back 24/7, maybe.
Anyone coming at him too fast better be ready to face a fistful of consequences. Dante very much tends to keep people at arms' length, quite literally.
He doesn't like people laying hands on him or his things, full stop. When he was younger, he discovered that strangers felt less entitled to play with his hair if he kept it short, so he started doing just that.
He has many little rules. Don't touch the sword, don't paw at the coat. Since the whole thing with the amulet started, it kicked his possessiveness up another steep notch.
Anyone giving his necklace too close of a look is in a for a warning snarl.
Anyone but Lady. She waltzes in and out of his personal space without fazing him. She charges up to him to wallop him over the head and he doesn't flinch, it doesn't even staunch the flow of nonsense that triggeredthe attack to begin with. When she rests her chin on the shoulder pad of his coat, the only thing he feels is peace.
The walls he built crumble under her touch.
She grabs at his necklace to inspect the amulet and he leans into it, smirking, eyes on hers.
"Like what you see?", he asks with a suggestive wiggle of his brow.
She gives him a deadpan look but she doesn't let go. They stay in each other's space, breathing the same air, bodies humming at the same pitch.
She tugs at the necklace and his grin grows wider, toothier.
One day, the last wall between them will fall, too.
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