RodrigoSoul

They had been drinking for god-knows how long when Vergil finally sputtered, coughed, and promptly threw up all over the table. "Jesus!" the tipsy half-demon roared, standing up, sensitive nose scrunched up in disgust. "What the fuck, man!" "I feel ill," Vergil informed Dante soberly, and tumbled to the floor. A groan emerged from the ground. "Verge," Dante peered down at his elder. "You're shitfaced." "Kill me," the fallen man pronounced morosely. "P-puh-please." His eyes closed in resignation. Stuttering, his drowsy mind muttered. You're stuttering. "We're not even on the thirtieth shot yet," Dante slurred, vaguely waving at the bar wh