Sometimes, less frequently now, Mizu expects to find a different body when Vergil looks at her like that. He looks at her the way no one else has—beautiful, wanted, loved. Her body is soft and slight for a man's, long and barely curved for a woman's. Her eyes— he likes her eyes best, has complimented them from the earliest days. What most marks her, in her world, as hideous, and he finds them attractive. Strange but welcome. While Mizu cannot understand why, she accepts Vergil finds her that way. It's present so much of the time, with and without passion, so that it saturates the space. Her bedroom is the main place she's naked. His bedroom door isn't enough privacy to strip, not with his family living with him.

Her head leans to one side as he kisses her. The skin's barely bruised any longer, and Mizu'd welcome him darkening it again if Vergil were so inclined. She traces a couple places on his skin, all perfectly clear, where she left the briefest of marks herself. Mizu has to pull back and observe them then and there if she wants to see them at all. They're gone so quickly. It is fine, part of reality. She has his clothes, if not her marks on his skin. "Then when you leave, you can wear the clothes that no longer smell like you. I've worn them out."

Mizu stays close and leans against him. "Or I can get your smell from you directly. As well."