Acta non verba
Nero hadn’t been home in years, travelling far away for work over seas and to see the world that Dante had always mentioned being so beautiful and filthy all at the same time. Having left, Nero learned what he had meant. While it was a wash of neon, colors, music and lively people, it was also insufferable. People were no different out there than the Order had been back in Fortuna.
Bag on his back he knocks on the man’s door. Dante, presumably, not too far away. Dante always playfully took his siblings temper up a notch higher than what it had been originally if not just to poke a little fun at him and get him riled.
No answer. No matter, Nero knew how to get in; he’d never lost the key at least. Digging it from his pockets he let himself in. The house is immaculate. It looks clean enough that perhaps no one lives here. He knows better, however; Vergil never left behind much trace of his existence. If you knew him enough, however, it wasn’t hard to pick up the subtleties he left behind. Not a spec of dust on the tables, the floor is pristine. If he isn’t home currently he was probably less than a day away. If the fridge is low he might be getting groceries.
He doesn’t waste time, starting a load of laundry he settles back into the house, Dante working on getting enough rent to pay off a new lease for DMC (Part of the problem was Dante never getting rent home in time). Once he’s settled and things are neatly put away, clothes in the wash and his jacket and vest hanging on the line to sun bathe, Nero goes to take his shower and ‘pass some time’ now that he was alone. Traveling with Dante had it’s perks and it’s heavy downfalls; one of those heavy downfalls is the open-door policy Lady and Trish both seemed to share with out warning. He’d been caught in the buff a few times too early in the morning (Enough times that he’d started to wear briefs to bed).