Chapter Text
"Come on, Trish. Please. Please, tell me more. I will buy you a new set of heels. A bike. A house!"
Trish smirks in the face of her friend's outrage, utterly unmoved. Lady's own fault for sitting this mission out. She should have known it would be a juicy one the moment Trish mentioned the Sparda worshipping cult. Even seeing Dante forced to deal with that alone would have been amusing in and off itself. Then Trish found the kid embroiled in the cult when she went to infiltrate it and knew without a doubt it would be a show to be seen. The fact that Sparda dramatics, in the form of time travelling twins, then kicked in with a vengeance and blew everything even more out of any reasonable proportions is just the cherry on top. It's absolutely Lady's own fault for not being there. Trish has no remorse for the fact that she now holds all the information -heaven forbid Dante say something on his own, after all, even under all the pestering in the world- and Lady has to come to her to get a second hand account of what she has dubbed the 'Spardan Soap Opera of acute nonsense'.
If Trish is being a bit mean about it and glories in drip feeding her friend the juicy details one at a time, it is only because her friend called the whole thing a slag and not worth her time when Trish brought the mission to her the first time around. Sweet revenge and all that. Trish may be trying to be good but she is still a demon, after all.
"Oh my god, this is so unfair," Lady groans, head thrown over the back of her chair in disappointment. "Surely fleecing all those rich dirt bags can't be enough for all this bad karma. Surely. Why is fate so cruel to me. Come on."
Trish grins and lazily reapplies her blood red lipstick. She won't be buying this brand again. It smudges annoyingly fast and ruins her perfect look. With one last look into her hand mirror she lets both fall back into her pocket dimension and grins a perfectly accentuated smile. Her friend won't ever stop fleecing rich scumbags. She loves money far too much not to wildly overcharge her customers if they are assholes and or ultra rich.
There is a shout and loud cursing from the other room. They both ignore it. Poor temperamentful Nero has opinions and so do the many devil arms and skulls on Dante's walls. The combination is an explosion just waiting to happen. But there is no need to fret, the shop will take care of any damages of the resulting scuffles. Perks of the building being so saturated with infernal energies from all the artifacts Dante stores in here and his own residual energy so thoroughly seeping into the walls over the years. It has long since become self sufficient enough to fix minor structural damages.
"Nero sure is hilarious." Lady grins at her and they clink their glasses against each other.
Trish sometimes has a hard time keeping from teasing the boy unduly herself. The explosive temper and cheeks still round with baby fat just make it too hard to resist sometimes. There are times she wants to squeeze his face until he looks like a fish and coo at him. He is such a cute nestling. No wonder everyone teases him to hell and back here. Poor kid always complains to that girlfriend of his about it.
"Five thousand he doesn't make it a week before he blows a fuse and tries to torch one of the Devil Arms." Lady declares with an eager grin.
Trish lifts an unimpressed eyebrow at her. They both know she is not fool enough to take that bet. Betting against Lady in general is already a fools errand Trish has not fallen for since a few months into their acquaintance. And this one is a particularly obvious sucker bed. Her friend, of course, knows this very well and relents with a huff.
"You could at least have given me this, you know. Seeing as you still won't give me all the juicy details about Fortuna and those supposed older twins," Lady grouses bitterly and takes a deep swallow of her champagne before she continues. "God, what I would give to have seen that. Were they frisky with each other? I bet they were so frisky with each other. I didn't see much at the Temen-Ni-Gru but wow, they were already gone stupid about each other even back then. They can't have been any better now."
Trish snorts and remembers some of the looks she caught. No doubt about it. Well, she will tell her friend. Later. After letting her squirm some more. Not like she can get information out of anyone else. Nero blusters and flushes bright red when asked about it, Dante is as uncommunicative and uncooperative as always and the one time Lady got her hands on Kyrie the poor girl just smiled at her, gently confused. Trish was informed afterwards that the overwhelming goodness of the kid nearly gave Lady hives. She readily believes it. Kyrie is quite something, after all.
As far as Trish is aware, Lady never even bothered to ask the last person involved.
"Dante is much better now," she says after a sip of her own, "I don't think I've ever seen him this lively before."
"Hah, yeah. He even cleaned the upper floors. Can you imagine? I didn't know he even knew what a mop was."
They share another grin, glad for their friend.
Then Lady's eyes fall on the blue coat hanging by the door and her face sours into annoyance. "Ugh. Too bad I have to endure the arrogant twit permanently now, though."
Trish's feeling on the matter of the older twin are quite complicated on their own, what with her history with him under Mundus' cruel care. She takes another sip of her drink without answering.
Really, in the end the important thing is that the man isn't trying to hurt anyone right now and that Dante is happy. Trish can deal with the arrogant attitude. Vergil can be amusing in his own way, even, when caught in a pleasant mood. Something that is happening more and more, the longer he spends with Dante. They both need each other, it seems. Though Trish is quite ready to put him into place if he ever hurts his brother again. She won't tolerate her friend going back into that black abyss he has been drowning in since she has known him.
Lady on the other hand, has a bit more problems with the bad attitude. It probably has something to do with the tower all three involved sometimes mention offhandedly. She has never asked, though. None of them seem to want to talk about it and Trish is perfectly alright with that.
Her friend drowns the rest of her glass with a huff - a shame, the champagne is of very good quality - and refills it to the brim. Magnanimously she tops off Trish's glass too, when she holds it out.
After Lady has replaced the bottle on the table she leans forward, looking half pleadingly, half annoyed and all around slightly crazed.
"Trish, I want to kick him in the balls do badly. He makes it so hard to resist. And I don't even have juicy details to make up for it."
Trish laughs at her suffering and cheers with her glass. "Your own fault, my dear friend."
"Dante owes us so much pizza for putting up with that." Lady deftly declares with a mournful moan and Trish drinks to that.