Life. [He answers tersely with a bit of a smirk.] It’s survival of the fittest where I’m from.
You either do or die, it’s that simple.
[Violence is an everyday occurrence for a man like Dante. He lives and breathes conflict, almost to the point that it’s become second nature for him. While he enjoys the peace well enough, nothing gets his blood pumping quite like beating the brakes off someone. He likes the feeling of cartilage breaking under his fist and enjoys the sound of gunfire. Maybe it’s the devil within him that craves such carnage but Dante can’t deny that he feels the most alive whenever he’s fighting. It’s the only time he can simply be himself without worrying what others might think.]
My father was the one who got me into swords but I prefer firearms.
[He admits once they finally reach the bar. There’s a couple of their guys piss-drunk at the counter shouting about the match earlier. Dante gives them a wide berth as he grabs a table towards the far end of the bar by the windows. He’s not in the mood to deal with some drunk asshole shouting in his ear. Nope, he just wants to chill.]
My old man was a legendary swordsman, one of the best.
[He mutters before signaling to the scaly bartender to fetch them a round of beer, wine, and whatever the hell else he can think of.]
I’m still just second-rate in comparison to him.
no subject
You either do or die, it’s that simple.
[Violence is an everyday occurrence for a man like Dante. He lives and breathes conflict, almost to the point that it’s become second nature for him. While he enjoys the peace well enough, nothing gets his blood pumping quite like beating the brakes off someone. He likes the feeling of cartilage breaking under his fist and enjoys the sound of gunfire. Maybe it’s the devil within him that craves such carnage but Dante can’t deny that he feels the most alive whenever he’s fighting. It’s the only time he can simply be himself without worrying what others might think.]
My father was the one who got me into swords but I prefer firearms.
[He admits once they finally reach the bar. There’s a couple of their guys piss-drunk at the counter shouting about the match earlier. Dante gives them a wide berth as he grabs a table towards the far end of the bar by the windows. He’s not in the mood to deal with some drunk asshole shouting in his ear. Nope, he just wants to chill.]
My old man was a legendary swordsman, one of the best.
[He mutters before signaling to the scaly bartender to fetch them a round of beer, wine, and whatever the hell else he can think of.]
I’m still just second-rate in comparison to him.