Chapter Text
The bell above the door jingled once.
Dante barely looked up from the couch.
“Closed,” he muttered automatically, magazine half over his face. The door opened anyway. Heavy footsteps first. Then smaller ones.
Dante lowered the magazine just enough to see Morrison standing there in his usual coat, looking older than normal somehow. And beside him- Patty.
Tiny. Silent. Which was immediately wrong. Patty never entered a room silently. She usually exploded into one like a firecracker somebody forgot to fear.
Now she just stood there clutching the hem of Morrison’s sleeve.
Dante blinked once.
Twice.
“...Huh,” he said.
Morrison exhaled through his nose.
“Thought you’d still be awake.”
Dante sat up a little slower than usual.
“You’re back early.”
No answer.
That was when he noticed Patty’s shoes were muddy.
Her dress too. Black.
Right.
Funeral.
The realization landed in pieces instead of all at once.
Slow enough to feel stupid.
Dante’s gaze shifted toward Morrison again.
“Nina still at the hospital?”
Morrison looked at him for a long moment.
Then he said quietly, “Dante.”
And that was enough.
The room became very still.
Dante stared at him blankly for a second, like the sentence had arrived in another language.
“Oh,” he said finally.
Patty let go of Morrison’s sleeve.
Then she walked directly toward Dante. Not running. Not talking. Just walking.
Dante barely had time to lower the magazine before she wrapped both arms around his knee with enough force that the old chair beneath him creaked like it was considering death.
He looked down.
Patty pressed her face against his leg harder.
Didn’t say anything.
Dante awkwardly looked at Morrison over her head.
Morrison just shrugged faintly.
“She wanted to come here.”
“...Yeah, I got that part.”
Patty’s grip somehow tightened. The chair groaned louder.
Dante eyed it cautiously.
“Kid, you’re gonna break this thing.”
No response.
“Actually,” he amended, glancing at the cracked armrest, “that’s probably not hard.”
Still nothing.
The silence felt strange on her.
Like seeing rain stop halfway to the ground.
Morrison set down a small suitcase near the door.
“She hasn’t spoken much.”
Dante rubbed the back of his neck.
“Right.”
He still didn’t know what to do with his hands. Or his face. Or literally any part of this situation.
He’d fought demons bigger than buildings less confusing than crying children.
Except Patty wasn’t even crying. That somehow made it worse.
Morrison looked around the shop. Pizza box. Pool table. Debt notices. One sock hanging from the ceiling fan for reasons nobody remembered anymore. Then he looked back at Dante.
“You okay handling this?”
Dante stared at him.
“No.”
Morrison snorted once.
“Figured.”
Patty finally spoke, voice muffled against Dante’s coat.
“I’m staying here.”
Dante looked down again.
“That so.”
“Yes.”
“Mm.”
Another long pause.
“Patty.”
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything yet.”
“You were going to.”
Dante leaned back slowly into the protesting chair.
She had him there. Morrison hid what looked suspiciously like amusement. Dante shot him a flat look.
“Real helpful.”
“I try.”
Then Morrison straightened.
“I’ll check in tomorrow.”
Patty’s arms tightened again at the sound of someone leaving.
Dante felt it immediately. Morrison noticed too.
The older man’s expression softened.
“You’ll be alright, kid.”
Patty didn’t answer him either.
After a moment, Morrison sighed and headed for the door. The bell jingled again.
Then the shop was quiet.
Too quiet.
Dante stared at the ceiling for several seconds while Patty remained attached to his knee like an angry barnacle.
Finally he said, “You planning on living there now?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a terrible spot.”
“I like it.”
“Hm.”
Another silence.
Dante looked toward the suitcase near the door.
Then down at the top of Patty’s head.
Then toward the empty space beside the couch.
His expression tightened for only a second before flattening out again.
“...You eat anything today?”
A tiny pause.
Then:
“No.”
“Great.”
Patty finally loosened her grip just enough to look up at him.
Her eyes were red. Not fresh crying. The kind that came after.
“Dante.”
“Yeah?”
“Mom said this place smells weird.”
Dante blinked.
“That’s the first thing you say?”
“She said it smelled like pizza and guns.”
“Sounds accurate.”
Patty’s mouth trembled. Just slightly.
Dante looked away fast.
He stood carefully, lifting Patty almost by accident because she still refused to let go.
The chair gave one final relieved creak.
Patty dangled for a second before her feet touched the floor again.
Dante stared down at her.
She stared back stubbornly.
“...You gotta let go eventually.”
“No.”
“Kid.”
“No.”
Dante sighed through his nose.
“Alright.”
And somehow that was the closest thing to permission either of them had managed to say out loud.