( Gently stabbing his fork into a napkin, he slowly twists it about back and forth while staring to it, smile barely a ghost of one there on his lips. )

Yeah. I miss her, too.

( He always had and always all. Just as he had with Vergil before he came back as he did. Honestly probably a good thing he didn’t end up on some train ride because he’d find it more insulting to puppet some fake version of his mother than something he’s wish was true. Then again, he’s had years and years to grieve and mourn her, though it doesn’t diminish how he still misses her. )

I still get nightmares of that. Even at this age. Kind of dumb, huh? You’d think that’d pass with time.

( They’re never as bad or as frequent as the first decade or so after it happened, but. They’re still enough to jolt him awake suddenly — sometimes to the point where he’s not sure where he is the first few seconds upon waking, but. He still gets them. Different pieces and versions of them, and he hates them every time.

Napkin all twisted up there in his fork, he pulls it away and smiles a little up to Vergil then. )

She’d be proud of you, you know. How far you’ve come. I know you might balk at the thought of that because of the past and all, but. You overcame it all in the end and I think she always knew you would.