It is a smile that she kisses the corner of when she mentions their sparring as something Vergil has denied her in the past. She did well in managing her frustrations over it. But that management was likely because she correctly guessed that Vergil would refuse to entertain even the notion of continued sparring were she to do anything less than accept the limit he placed. What they do is not a true fight, and thus, it requires a degree of trust. Pushing or manipulating past his limit would have put an end to his mild amount of trust, and subsequently their sparring. But just because Mizu managed her frustrations does not mean she did not make her frustrations plain and clear to him. Vergil regarded it a bit warily back then, uncertain if she would ultimately accept the limit, but in hindsight, it's almost adorable the way she was on the verge of pouting over it at times. It is why he smiles. Vergil does not often seek to frustrate her, but there is something undeniably endearing about those lighter forms of frustration.
And then there is the question again. Except it's not posed as a question, as she had earlier. When she asked, Vergil considered the question carefully at its surface of what he might want and came up short. In of itself, that is not all that peculiar. Rarely is it that Vergil has an answer when anyone asks him what he wants. But when she asked then, Vergil pushed past reflex to sincerely consider it and really could not think of more that he might want in that moment. He came here tonight to ensure that Mizu was able to eat well as his chief priority. But the secondary was to have her time and attention, to be close to her and share in affection with her in the ways they only do when they're alone. He did not care what the shape of all that took, only that it was there. And it was. It still is.
...But still Vergil cannot help feeling that the answer ought to be different as well. He isn't certain if it's because the question is delivered differently or if it's a consequence of the frustration that was spilling out from her earlier when Mizu could not appreciably mark his skin that only makes itself known now. He just knows it feels wrong somehow to say there's nothing that he wants, nothing that she can give him.
"It is one thing to ask me to consider a hypothetical, but it is another to ask me to entertain an impossible one," he teases lightly on the matter of her virtue, allowing the playful ribbing to act as a buffer rather than silence. Comfortable as they both as with silence between them, Vergil thinks it would rest too heavily now that he does not want to chance it. "It is difficult for me to long for anything when the greatest of my wants is right here in my lap."
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And then there is the question again. Except it's not posed as a question, as she had earlier. When she asked, Vergil considered the question carefully at its surface of what he might want and came up short. In of itself, that is not all that peculiar. Rarely is it that Vergil has an answer when anyone asks him what he wants. But when she asked then, Vergil pushed past reflex to sincerely consider it and really could not think of more that he might want in that moment. He came here tonight to ensure that Mizu was able to eat well as his chief priority. But the secondary was to have her time and attention, to be close to her and share in affection with her in the ways they only do when they're alone. He did not care what the shape of all that took, only that it was there. And it was. It still is.
...But still Vergil cannot help feeling that the answer ought to be different as well. He isn't certain if it's because the question is delivered differently or if it's a consequence of the frustration that was spilling out from her earlier when Mizu could not appreciably mark his skin that only makes itself known now. He just knows it feels wrong somehow to say there's nothing that he wants, nothing that she can give him.
"It is one thing to ask me to consider a hypothetical, but it is another to ask me to entertain an impossible one," he teases lightly on the matter of her virtue, allowing the playful ribbing to act as a buffer rather than silence. Comfortable as they both as with silence between them, Vergil thinks it would rest too heavily now that he does not want to chance it. "It is difficult for me to long for anything when the greatest of my wants is right here in my lap."