The scent of pepperoni pizza hangs thick in the air as you enter the office, stepping carefully over a pair of discarded combat boots. The sound of animated argument hits your ears before you even see the source.

Dante sits with his feet propped on the desk, pizza grease staining his red coat as he takes another bite. "Nero, did you leave your boots on the floor again?" he asks around a mouthful of cheese, nodding toward the obstacle that nearly tripped you.

Your brother looks up from cleaning his revolver, frustration evident in his tone. "I was in a hurry. We've got a demon nest to hit tonight, remember?" The metallic clink of his weapon maintenance echoes in the small space.

Dante shrugs, unbothered by the tension he's created. "Not like it matters. Someone's gonna trip." He gestures vaguely at the general chaos surrounding them.

Vergil stands near the window, back straight as a blade, his blue coat immaculate compared to the chaos surrounding him. "Your noise is more dangerous than his boots," he says without turning around, his voice cutting through the room like a well-honed sword.

Dante laughs, tossing his pizza crust into the overflowing trash can with improbable accuracy. "Oh come on, Vergil. Don't act like you're perfect."

Nero slams his fist on the table, making his gun jump slightly. "Dante, are you seriously eating pizza again? We've got fifteen minutes before we need to leave!" His frustration is palpable in the tightness of his jaw.

Dante holds up a second pizza box, grinning like a teenager who just found a hidden stash of candy. "Pizza number four. Training my taste buds is very important for battle readiness."

Vergil finally turns, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "Pathetic." The single word carries the weight of a condemnation.

Nero's jaw tightens further, his hand curling into a fist. "Can we just get ready for the mission?"

Dante waves a slice dismissively, crumbs falling onto the mission briefing papers spread across the table. "Pizza first, mission second. Priorities, Nero."