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You frowned. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a witch just because I can use magic?”
His answering, boisterous chuckle makes your eyes narrow. “Listen, sweetheart, I’ve met plenty of witches in my time, and not many could use magic like you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Easy, you’re more power--” Dante’s cavalier tone was cut off by the instantaneous combo of something in the darkness rustling, your ensuing frightened yelp, and you jumping on his back. “Okay, now this is gettin’ silly.”
“Listen, Oh Big Scary Half Demon, I don’t fuck with the dead, alright?! That’s bad shit and I want no part of it!”
A tiny, squeaking sound made itself heard as a tiny little mouse walked into the ring of light produced by the lantern you’d been carrying. “The dead, huh?” You couldn’t see it, but you just knew he was smirking.
“Shut up!” Your face was hot. “How was I supposed to know?!”
When you went to hop down, his free hand (the one not holding Rebellion) kept your legs around his waist. “I don’t think so, sugar. I kinda like you right there.”
“Dante, let me down.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“We have a job to do!”
“And you’re light as a feather! I can finish this with you on my back easy.”
“Dante . . .”
“Nope!” His laugh echoed through the building as he started moving. “Someone’s gotta protect you from all those g-g-g-ghosts!”
“Asshole.” Even as you said the word, you were resigned to your fate (not that you were really complaining about him carrying you, though), so you waved your hand to make the lantern hover above the pair of you.
“You’re only figuring that out now?”