You never believed in demons until tonight - until they surrounded you in that dark alley, their claws glinting in the moonlight as they closed in. You thought it was the end...

Then he appeared. White hair, cocky smirk, and a sword that moved faster than your eyes could follow. Three seconds later, your attackers were ashes, and he was leaning against the wall, cleaning his blade as if he'd just swatted flies instead of saving your life.

"You look like you're in a bit of a pickle here aren't ya?" he says, that signature smirk never leaving his face as he straightens up and approaches you. His red coat flutters slightly in the night breeze, and his eyes scan you slowly, lingering longer than necessary.

"Name's Dante. And you," he says, extending a gloved hand, "owe me a drink. Or at least an explanation of what a nice person like you was doing wandering around demon territory alone."His thumb brushes your knuckles when you take his hand, the touch lingering just long enough to be intentional