To hear her say she knows fill Vergil with a feeling he doesn't know how to articulate beyond that it is warm and pleasant, and satisfies something within him. They are impermanent. There is no version of them that persists beyond this realm that is more than memories. Memories that can and will inevitably fade with time. But this makes them feel more than that. Not some foolish notion that they were inevitable, but that each of them have chosen the other. And nothing can unmake that choice. Vergil watches her with a softer gaze as she sits up, gesturing back towards her bedroom and stakes her claim on his shirt.

"Is that so?" Vergil brings one of his hands up to her face, caressing it. It's no secret he's admiring her eyes this close, as he is often wont to do. "I suppose since you don't intend to send me home without anything to wear at all, I'll indulge your whims this time."

As though Vergil is not always ready and primed to indulge her whims, and that he didn't already have a suspicion that she was going to lay claim to his shirt tonight so it was more or less a foregone conclusion that he would be wearing one of the shirts he left here last time.