Chapter Text
"So... devil hunter," Hawks would have found this more amusing if it had happened a few years back, "I guess it makes sense, but I didn't know that was a career path."
"It probably isn't one here," Dante gave a satisfied smirk, he felt some of the weight lift off his shoulders after agonizing over having to be called 'Tony' again, "but it is where I come from."
"It was... Red Grave, right?" Hawks recalled with a snap of his fingers.
The smirk on Dante’s died instantly. "I don't live there anymore. I’m speaking generally, bird brain."
Hawks raised his arms in surrender. "My bad, my bad. Anyway, back to the main point, hunter. I’ll be straight with you. When you left, the excuse I came up with was that you’d run away from UA the very night you got back home. The old Hero Commission members tried to pry a reason out of me or the school, but it wasn't a lie to say you’d gone home, that you’d found a way under the radar to get back to your 'country',” he made air quotes with his hands, drawing a chuckle from Dante. "What? It technically wasn't a lie; I just left out a few parts-alright maybe a lot of parts, it doesn't matter anymore. They whined about it and even thought about sending me after you for a while, but things more important than finding a teenager started happening and their focus eventually shifted."
"I guess I should be grateful for that?" Dante was grateful, he just didn't want to admit exactly how much.
"You should be. I could’ve really screwed myself over covering your ass," Hawks said, though not entirely seriously. "Anyway, moving on: after everything went to hell a lot changed. While the memory of All For One and Shigaraki was filed away in the collective consciousness, the technology and research surrounding them weren't."
Dante knew where the conversation was heading. "Oh no..." he began, rubbing his temples.
"Oh yes. Everything All For One discovered about demons, and all the tech involving them and the Nomus, was completely wiped out. His research on demons was dismissed as nonsense by the scientific community and nowadays, it’s nothing more than obscure fodder for conspiracy theory forums." Hawks sighed wearily, he knew it wasn't fair. Tony hadn't brought nonsense, hell, he’d faced demons face-to-face! Hawks knew that, but it was the path the Commission had chosen.
The concept of demons was never going to sit well with the people here (honestly, Hawks couldn't fathom how people in Tony's dimension lived with it so easily), and that waste of knowledge and technology was a price he, and everyone else, had to pay to move forward. The look of disappointment etched on Dante’s face was another price; he’d stupidly thought he’d be spared that one, though, given everything going on, he should have known it would happen sooner or later.
Imagine who opposed to it? Aizawa and so had Hawks at first, but... well, you can see how that turned out. Let’s just say he and the UA teacher hadn't spoken in quite some time.
He had to go on. "Without All For One playing mad alchemist and machines tearing open rifts to other realities, any mention of demons became a thing of the past and wa buried in files that no longer hold any validity."
A mirthless laugh came out of Dante’s throat. "Damn, just my stupid luck." He was far more disappointed than angry, after all, he understood. He would be a hypocrite not to grasp the choice to throw certain things away in order to move forward, he had done the same thing for years, that didn't mean he couldn't feel let down though. "So you can't help me, is that it?" He wouldn't be petty enough to call the visit a waste of time-
"I didn't say that, hold on," Hawks cut his thoughts short. "Look... knowing you came here without knowing what's going on puts me at ease and worries me at the same damn time."
Dante furrowed his brow. "And what is happening, huh? Some other dumbass messing with things they shouldn't?"
"That's where the problem starts: I don't really know." Hawks rubbed a hand over his eyes, a gesture that highlighted just how tired he was and finally placed the device from earlier between them. Dante felt the urge to grab it instead he let Hawks do his job. The new Hero Commission's president quickly swiped his index finger across the screen and a series of images, seemingly unremarkable to Dante, flicked by until the display settled on a map marked with red and blue dots.
"This is a map of the city of Musutafu, where we are right now," he began to explain. "The blue dots indicate locations with reports of suspicious activity, while the red ones show where that activity was actually sighted and documented by someone with extensive proof. There are about fifteen colored dots in total on this map: six red and nine blue."
"And what does that have to do with me?" Dante was being a bit cheeky, since he’d already guessed the answer, there was no real need to ask, but he wanted to hear Hawks say it out loud.
"Don't you hunt demons now?" The bird swiped right, revealing an image of a blurred shape, though the horns and distinct red eyes were unmistakable.
Holding back the laugh that bubbled up in his throat was something Dante could not do and Hawks shot him an indignant look. "Hold on, hold on. It's not funny, I know." Except it was pretty funny and a little ironic. The very guys who had chosen to lie and cover up the existence of demons were now forced to face the reality that some things don't just vanish because we wish they would, and that it's futile to try and hide what shouldn't be hidden. It would have been a lot funnier if the exact same thing hadn't happened to him years ago. Reality had a very sarcastic way of slapping you in the face.
The twinge of satisfaction Dante felt was not going to be suppressed by him. He wouldn’t do it even if he could.
"I suppose I had this coming," Hawks admitted. "There was a photo taken by a civilian that was confiscated before it could hit the internet but even before that-" it could have been catastrophic, "I was the first to figure out what was going on. The reports... people describing the smell of rotten eggs and things vanishing and there was a hero that managed to kill one and it’s body dissolved into mist and the thing's blood wasn't red. I swear I could hear your annoying little bratty voice saying we were doing it all wrong, that those things weren't human and couldn't be treated as such."
Dante wrinkled his nose and let out a small, nasal chuckle, it wasn't that he totally disagreed with what he used to say back then, only that things change. Tony Redgrave would have an heart attack if he knew that Dante housed a full demoness for a little more than six months and taught her how to use guns like him, Trish for her credit didn’t need much training. In any case, that was still the better way to deal with most demons. "I was so dramatic back then." And not dramatic enough sometimes.
"Good thing you developed some self-awareness! That’s good to see!" Hawks clapped once, just a single clap.
Dante rolled his eyes with a goofy grin. "You're a real riot," and then his smile vanished. "Did anyone die?"
Hawks’s smile faded too. "Three people. All civilians." The situation would soon become untenable if they didn't go public with information about the demons; other heroes were starting to demand explanations, too. Hawks had asked the universe to send something to help, and looking ahead, it seemed the universe had answered his request once again.
Dante could be incredibly unlucky, and it wasn't as if Hawks’s luck was much better, but just about anyone was luckier than Dante, well, except for the people who had died it seems.
"Damn, what a mess," he sighed deeply and rested an elbow on the table. He could have pointed out that he’d warned them, that the situation wouldn't be this bad if they hadn't tossed aside all the information he’d provided, however the guy without the wings seemed to have learned his lesson already, for now at least.
Another reason he didn't say "I told you so" was that the timing felt all wrong. Dante wasn't naive enough to think his return had absolutely nothing to do with it, he kept that thought to himself.
"A real mess." Hawks agreed and took another sip of the bitter coffee. "It all started about three months ago, at least, as far as I know. We might have just started noticing it too late as it began small, with an elderly woman claiming she saw the chupacabra on her porch, and it just got worse from there."
"There isn't much difference between a chupacabra and a demon,” the chupacabra legend likely stemmed from a demon in his world, "I assume you have the address of the last sighting?"
Hawks turned back to the map and zoomed in on a blue dot. "It was at a construction site away from the city center. A worker said he saw something that looked like a three-headed cat that nearly tore his arm off." He glanced at Dante. "That was about five days ago."
"Take me there." Dante knew he didn't need to lie.
Hawks pretended to weigh the request, scratching his stubble, though he didn't really need to consider it. He ought to refuse, after all, Dante was basically a civilian and the matter was classified, but how could he turn down the very thing he’d been hoping for? Besides, he knew Dante had never been an ordinary civilian, even back when he was Tony.
"You don't have your sword," he pointed out; he could lend him something if needed.
Even if Dante could tell him otherwise he held back since wanted to see the look on Hawks's face, so he decided to draw his babes from the holsters beneath his coat, spinning Ebony and Ivory on his fingers and set them on the table. "I'm more than well-equipped."
Hawks’s golden eyes widened when he saw the two guns, one black and one silver, both featuring wooden grips adorned with images of women and gold accents. "You brought two guns in here? How did I not notice?"
"You were so distracted by my charming and spectacular presence that you didn't even see them," Dante teased with a smile.
After rolling his eyes, Hawks reached out to touch the silver gun and Dante immediately snatched both guns back.
"You can look, but not touch. Ivory's trigger is especially sensitive."
Hawks sighed. "I wasn't the one who used to break guns left and right."
Dante let out a laugh that was more melancholic than it should have been. "These ones were built to last."
Hawks was about to ask how, but then he noticed the words For Tony Redgrave by 45. Art Warks in gold lettering on the barrels and offered a small smile. Dante might want to pretend that part of his life hadn't happened, but carrying two pistols with that name engraved on them seemed a bit counterproductive.
"If things go wrong and you end up shooting a civilian, I'm fucked, you know that, right?"
"Hey. I've got great aim so that's never happened to me." It was true, it really never had. Most workplace accidents involved property damage.
The kid Hawks had known truly possessed an almost supernatural level of accuracy, but now... "You're getting old, who knows if your reflexes are what they used to be."
"I'm going to ignore that," Dante decided, tucking the guns back under his trench coat and standing up. "Let's-"
"Sit down." Hawks rested his elbow on the table and propped his chin in his hand. "It's too early, smartass. Everyone's still on the clock; we're going tonight." Dante wanted to disagree because he wanted to get this over with, but unfortunately, Hawks was right.
He slumped back into the armchair and glanced around, looking for something. "You got any whiskey?" Dante had been in withdrawal since the second demon horde in Hell; luckily for him, or perhaps the only upside is that with his regeneration meant he didn't suffer the physical symptoms of withdrawal, though he’d still feel a lot better with a drink.
"Just water and coffee," Hawks swirled his cup.
"Booooooriiiing."
"I don't like alcohol, sorry to disappoint." Hawks had a very specific reason for that. "We can talk about other things, though." He was opening the door for Dante to ask the question they both knew needed asking.
Dante looked away and considered it for a moment, but... he didn't want to know just yet. Maybe that made him a coward, but he didn't care in the slightest. "You got a deck of cards?"
Hawks definitely hadn't expected that question, even though he had expected the deflection. "Actually, I do." Tony might have changed his name, but Hawks knew that pressuring him wouldn't end well, and he needed Dante to stay (he didn't want him to leave). "Do you know how to play poker?"
"That was the worst possible thing you could've suggested to me, go grab 'em." Dante snapped his fingers.
To be clear, the suggestion was far worse for Dante than Hawks could have ever imagined; at least there was no money involved, so it would just be run-of-the-mill humiliation.
"Four of a kind." Dante laid the cards on the table, a hopeless hope rising in his chest.
"Straight Flush." The illusion vanished instantly. Dante made no secret of his displeasure, aggressively tossing his cards back onto the table while Hawks laughed without a shred of regard for his dignity.
"Thirteen times in a row!" Hawks hadn't laughed like that in years. He’d tried to be polite about it the first five times, but after that, he couldn't hide it anymore. "Tell me you don't gamble, Dante." He was going to respect the name, even if it felt odd to use.
"Only with friends." He left out the times he’d lost and been forced to do pro bono work for Lady, or the times he’d wagered his existing debts only to end up with new ones; Dante had already been humiliated enough that day. This had been a terrible idea.
"If they bet against you knowing about this incredible skill of yours, then you don't need enemies." That bastard Hawks was still laughing shamelessly.
"I can't argue with you there." Dante was in no position to object, he’d once needed demonic magic just to win a tournament, all to kill a single demon. He’d barely gotten paid for that gig because of the damage done to the windows of the yacht where the 'death tournament' took place, though, at least that job had been somewhat fun, and the gin was good.
Hawks finished laughing and wiped the corners of his eyes. "Oh, my stomach... If I didn't know you were broke, you'd be done for." Not that Hawks would actually take money from him, he had plenty already, but he could certainly tease him about it. It would make for good blackmail material, should the need arise.
"That’s where you’re wrong, unfeathered face." Dante used his name to let him know he wasn't joking. He slowly pulled something from his pocket for dramatic effect, catching the interest of the former hero, who leaned forward in his office chair. It was his house key, complete with the red-and-gold keychain.
Hawks’s eyes widened, and Dante felt a surge of pride return. "Surprised?"
"You actually kept it?" The former hero was stunned.
"It’s heavy, which helps keep my keys in my pocket while I’m working." He placed it on the desk, and this time, he let Hawks pick it up. "I found out recently that it’s actually quite valuable."
"How?"
"Your secretary. She saw it and nearly had a heart attack." Dante smiled at the memory.
"Ah, Haru. She’s pretty enthusiastic." Hawks scratched his chin with his index finger. Inoue Haru was an excellent secretary and a huge fan of his days as a hero, maybe a bit too much of a fan, though it never interfered with her competence. She was great, just prone to getting carried away. "She told you about the keychain? Speaking of which, what happened to it?"
The keychain was dented, the red paint scratched, and there were even holes in it.
"A demon or two tried to take a bite out of it." Dante didn't mention all the times he’d dropped them or had them sent flying. That little keychain was tough.
"I'm impressed it survived you," Hawks, he didn't know why Tony-Dante. Dante. He didn't know why the reality that Dante still had the keychain pleased him and he wasn't going to waste time thinking about that now.
"And I'm impressed you gave me a twelve-thousand-dollar keychain as a parting gift for a kid you'd only known for six months." It wasn't that Dante didn't like the keychain (he wouldn't use it if he didn't); he just couldn't wrap his head around it.
"It's just money." Hawks had plenty of it, and he hadn't even had to spend it, since it had been given to him.
"It's just money?" Dante had very little of it.
"Yeah." Hawks held out his hand, and Dante took the keychain to put it back in his pocket.
Maybe Dante should thank him for the gift, but that would be over a decade late. It was hard to fathom that there were some things that just didn't feel right anymore, a lot of things.
"Another one?" Dante held up a card: a red ace of spades.
"Why would I say no? I'm going to win."
Hawks did win, and he won two more games after that one, too.
After yet another humiliation ritual for Dante, they left the office just as the sun finally disappeared. Hawks led Dante to another elevator, this one a bit simpler and without mirrored walls, and the doors opened onto a massive garage filled with cars, all black sedans.
“They aren't all mine, before you ask. They belong to the Commission,” Hawks explained, pulling a key from his pocket; one of the cars chirped in response. It was one of several sedans, hardly the sort of vehicle that suited someone who used to soar through the skies, moving too fast even for his own reflexes. Hawks had never really been a fan of driving, but he no longer had a choice.
“I wouldn't have thought they were all yours; they aren't your style.” Dante had expected a red car, at the very least. “I can-”
“Do you have a driver's license on you?” Hawks started walking toward the car. Dante didn't answer. “Just as I thought. So, I’m driving.”
Dante wasn't particularly keen on driving anyway, so he didn't object and got into the passenger seat without a fuss. The black leather seat (everything was black?) was pushed too far forward, so he started looking for the adjustment lever underneath it.
Hawks watched him for a few seconds in amusement before it became too much. “What are you doing?”
“I want to move the seat back-”
“Just press the buttons on the door, near the handle.” Hawks pointed to the door panel, where four buttons were arranged in the shape of a miniature seat.
Dante turned to the side and saw the buttons were indeed there; he casually pressed one, and the seat actually began to slide backward. “Impressive...” He wasn't being sarcastic. He remembered that this place was far more advanced than his own, he hadn't realized just how much until now this time around. It was just buttons, yet not even the mayor’s car, which he’d ridden in once, had anything like that.
Hawks let out a barking laugh. “Want to see something cool?” Dante nodded, and Hawks leaned forward slightly. “Open sunroof.”
“Opening sunroof” and the sunroof actually opened.
Dante’s eyes widened, he knew the sunroof would open, but he hadn’t expected the car to respond.
“Please don’t tell me it’s going to drive itself; I’ve seen enough movies to know that’s a bad idea for a number of reasons.” He wasn’t joking, and suddenly the massive screen in the center of the car seemed more menacing than it should have.
Hawks laughed again; this was turning out to be his best day in months (who was he kidding? It was the best day in years). “I could, but I won’t.” It was a state-secret location, so it was best not to put it into the car’s navigation system.
“That’s good…” Dante sighed in slight relief.
It was funny, he felt relieved even though he was in a terrible… truly terrible situation. Sure, the events unfolding might not be awful and he had to stay focused.
Focus, Dante Alighieri. That had never been a problem for him before, and it wouldn’t be now.
The car had pulled up in front of a place when Hawks finally remembered something and slapped his left hand against his forehead. "Ah, shit."
"What is it?" Dante was about to draw his gun-
"You came straight from hell, right?" The worry in Hawks’s voice was not a good sign.
"Yeah? I thought I made that clear." That left Dante confused. He could see the connection to the topic at hand, but he didn't understand the blond's animosity regarding it.
"What did you eat there?" Oh… right.
Ah... how was Dante supposed to explain that food wasn't a basic necessity for him, provided he was killing demons and absorbing their red orbs? Hmm.
He should just come clean, he logically knew that. Just rip the band-aid off and admit he was a half-demon with biological needs, and a physiology in general, that were vastly different from anyone else's. Dante looked enough like a human to pass for one most of the time, and he could look enough like a demon too if he wanted (he didn't).
Never fully either one; always close, but never entirely demon or human.
Living on that fine line no one else understood was exhausting and frustrating. I mean, there was someone who could understand, but-
"Dante?" Hawks's voice snapped Dante back to reality; it seemed the lack of sleep was really getting to him, because yeah, that was clearly what was happening.
"You don't need to worry about that-" The albino foolishly tried, knowing it was in vain.
"For some reason, I don't believe you." Dante was a liar, alright? That doesn’t mean he lies all the time and this time he wasn’t lying! There was a story about that, he was sure of it.
Dante couldn't even claim he’d never given Hawks a reason to doubt him, because he knew that wasn't true at all. "Hawks, seriously. It's fine-"
The former bird man glanced at his watch and flipped on the car's turn signal. "I'm going to stop by a burger joint."
“-no need-”
“It’s a quick trip and it’s only eight o’clock,” Hawks argued, already speeding up again as the light turned green. “We’re better off going a bit later anyway. Less chance of running into anyone.”
“-Hawks-”
“I’m driving so don’t stress the driver out, pelican.”
Dante furrowed his brow until he recalled the nickname Hawks had given him. “Fine, fine.” See? Dante was a softie too, when the mood struck. He would’ve preferred pizza, however since he wasn’t the one paying it was all good.
Eating would be nice, too; he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d actually put something in his mouth and chewed (this was important because things had been in his mouth recently and he did not chew on them). He didn’t know the last time he’d showered or even slept, really, the only things he’d done in Hell were kill demons and ride his motorcycle (his trusty companion).
He didn’t necessarily need to do all those things, as he’d mentioned before, he only liked doing them.
It didn’t hurt to eat, sleep, or shower, they were simple things that made him feel more humane. Dante wasn’t fully human and never would be (he’d accepted that long ago), he preferred being human to being a demon though, so he appreciated anything that made him seem more human.
Pathetic? A certain someone would say so, would call it silly and stupid. Dante just didn’t want to fight what he felt anymore.
Maybe it wasn’t right, he didn’t care if it wasn’t. Dante was too tired and had too much going on to really care, he had to manage his energy as best he could (and most of the time, it wasn’t enough). He was exhausted, so so exhausted and completely drained from carrying the weight of two worlds he’d never had the chance to choose, and now, a third one too. The last time Dante had been there he’d called it a vacation spot, he knew better these days.
He was more tired recently, which was funny, considering Tony used to sleep like a log anywhere and everywhere, and was tired too. Not on the same level as Dante, but tired nonetheless.
Dante was on the verge of falling asleep when the car stopped and he heard Hawks’s voice again. It gave him a jolt of adrenaline, just enough to save him the embarrassment of drooling in a car that probably cost more than he’d ever earned in his life, and doing it right in front of the feather guy, no less.
Hawks was placing the order (speaking into a speaker-equipped monitor) when he turned around. "Do you want dessert?"
"What kind of dessert do they have?" That was the interesting part for Dante.
"Apple pie, ube..." He leaned over to read the menu on the wall. "Vanilla ice cream, chocolate, swirl, chocolate sundae..."
"Do they have a strawberry sundae?" Dante interrupted.
Hawks finally seemed to remember just how crazy Dante, back when he was Tony, had been insane about strawberry sundaes, and it appeared that hadn't changed. Even after the kid had spent an indefinite amount of time in hell, and years before that, some things were too deeply ingrained to change, like a strawberry sundae.
That was a good thing.
Hawks ended up ordering two combos, one for himself too, since he wasn't made of iron, with large fries, a soda, and, of course, the strawberry sundae. The aroma wafting from the two bags made Dante’s mouth water a little, he had to admit that, but it was obvious what he was going to eat first.
Hawks had barely managed to pull the cold container out of the bag after parking so they could eat when he realized it was no longer in his hand. The plastic spoon had been snatched up, too.
Dante looked at the cup of ice cream, topped with what looked like strawberry jam and nuts, and his first thought was that the cup was too small. It was a tiny sundae, though size isn't everything, or so they say.
Well, if only that were the only problem.
Hawks grabbed his fries and waited for Dante’s reaction to the sundae, who said nothing for a moment after taking a spoonful. Hawks just saw him wrinkle his nose slightly.
“What is it?” He asked.
Dante took another spoonful of the sundae (getting some strawberry sauce this time) before answering. “It’s kind of bad.”
Hawks’s eyes comically bulged of his face, “wait, what?”
“It’s bad.” Dante dropped the “kind of” what was in his hands didn't deserve any leniency. “The ice cream is actually fine, but there isn't much whipped cream or cake, just these sort of hard nuts on top. And there aren't really any strawberries, just sauce; there are no strawberry chunks... or even jam, for that matter.” He took another spoonful anyway, though he did so with an air of indignation.
“You’re being pretty hard on a sundae for someone who got out of hell less than twenty-four hours ago,” Hawks pointed out, shaking his head.
“What? Just because I was in hell, I can’t have high standards for food?” That was stupid, if it was bad Dante was going to say it.
“I didn’t say that,” Hawks defended himself. “I just expected you to be more…”
“Desperate?” Dante finished when he saw Hawks hesitate. “Nah.” He took a few more spoonfuls until he’d had enough. Dante spotted a button that looked like it operated the window which was confirmed when he pressed it and tossed the sundae, that crime against desserts, right out.
“You know that’s a crime, right?” Hawks pointed out while eating a fry.
Dante held out his wrists. “Arrest me, then.” It wouldn’t be his first time in jail.
Hawks just chuckled as Dante pulled his burger out of the bag. “I’m not going to arrest you, but if you mess up the seat, you’ll regret it.”
“You’d kick me out of the car? That’s mean.”
“You’d survive.”
Dante wasn't about to say the meal was bad, even though the food ranged from mediocre to worse; he was grateful when it ended and they finally arrived at the construction site.
Dante got out of the car the moment it parked and stretched; the sedan was too low for him, like most cars (which was why he owned a convertible, no it wasn’t just because of the vibe there was a reason for it).
The construction site was actually pretty big, which made sense, given that the structure taking shape (still just pillars and supports) looked like it was going to be a massive building. Everything about the place was huge and over-the-top (which only made that basic sundae an even greater crime).
Hawks got out too and headed straight for the trunk, he opened it and pulled out an object, holding it up proudly. It was a katana, he slid the blade partially out of its saya to reveal a red edge.
“Wow, look at you,” Dante teased slightly.
“You could say you inspired me a bit, take it as a compliment.” Hawks tucked the katana into his waistband, beneath his jacket. “What do you think?”
“It’s probably good, but it’s not really my style of weapon.” That was a lie; his style was any weapon. Although he had his preferences, katanas weren't his thing... they belonged to someone else-
Why did his mind love torturing him with that? Not that he didn't deserve it.
They started walking toward the section under construction, if the demon was still around, that’s where it would be, given the abundance of things to possess. Dante waited for the scent of sulfur or some other sign to manifest, while Hawks followed close behind. The silence, however, unsettled the blond; the place was already creepy enough as it was (a construction site at night made for a perfect horror movie setting).
“You know what I hated?” He started trying to strike up a conversation.
“What?” On Dante’s part he hated a lot of things so he had no idea what the other could say.
“You’ve gotten even taller.” Hawks looked Dante up and down. “You were already tall before, but now you’re even taller.”
That expected a lot of things and was still caught off guard,“I was 1.80 meters, that wasn't that tall,” Dante replied, fully aware of how Hawks would take that.
“You were already taller than me.” He took the bait beautifully.
“That doesn't mean I was tall; it just means you're short.”
Hawks was 1.72 meters tall, which was pretty tall in his own opinion! Dante, on the other hand, had always been a giant at around 1.80 meters, and now he looked to be nearly 1.90 meters tall.
Dante was going to have some trouble fitting into certain places here in Japan since he was just too tall. That thought brought Hawks a small measure of comfort.
“You idiot kid…” he grumbled in response, and Dante gave a goofy smile.
“I’m not a kid anymore, feather-duster.” Dante argued the point, even though back when he first arrived, he probably would have said the exact same thing. He hadn’t been a child when he got here, or at least, that’s what he’d believed. Tony had been naive about a lot of things; perhaps this was the one that showed it most clearly.
“I know-” Of course Hawks knew; he had two working eyes. That wasn’t the point. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty-five.” Dante still found it surreal; he was so old. Twenty-five felt ancient to him. “And you are what…? Like forty?”
“Son of a bitch-” The worst part was that he let a laugh slip out. “Thirty-one.”
“Oh, right, that explains the katana. Midlife crisis, I see-”
“Go to hell!”
“I’m trying!” Dante let out a loud laugh.