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Vergil attempted to not look awkward at this gathering. But there were far too many unknown people, far too many noises, far too many flashing lights. But he would endure this, after all, he had endured far worse before, under Mundus.
But Mundus, even in his most diabolical torments, hadn’t done this. The sound of shrieking children, parents barking at their kids to behave (unsuccessfully), the electronic beeps and bloops of arcade games assaulted his ears. Flashing lights of the games, the unnatural glowing of the speckles on the carpet under the ultraviolet light, and the garish overhead lights nearly gave him a migraine.
And worst of all was the people. The children, the parents, the waitstaff. All of them posed no threat to him, but still, their mere presence ground on his nerves. And worst of all, every half an hour, the curtain of the stage would open, and a terrifying scene would unfold. Animatronic animals, their unnatural movements as they jerkily pantomimed playing instruments, while the lead ‘singer’, a mouse with far too big eyes sang pre-recorded lines.
And yet, Vergil endured. It was merely to prove to everyone that he was strong enough to deal with these unusual circumstances. It had nothing to do with not wanting to disappoint his son’s family, as they celebrated Kyle’s birthday. And it absolutely had nothing to do with not wanting to ruin the look of pure bliss on his brother’s face as he savoured yet another piece of mediocre pizza. Everyone was having such a good time, it wouldn’t do to cause a scene by chopping those soulless puppets into sub-atomic particles, nor would it be wise to just leave. He would just disappoint his son, his brother, and most of all… himself.
Still, this whole place was not meant for him. He shouldn’t be here, he didn’t deserve to be here, with his new found happy family. Hell, he didn’t even deserve a family...
“Grandpa Vergil?”
A gentle tugging on his sleeve brought him out of the whirlpool threatening to suck him down. He looked down at the big brown eyes of the child, the youngest of the trio of boys.
“Julio,” he cocked his head, “what troubles you?” The boy’s movements were stiff and cagey, like a spooked animal. To Vergil, it was a very familiar look.
“Too loud.” The boy sat beside him, his eyes now focused on the carpet.
“Ah,” Vergil knew the feeling all too well, but he was at a loss on how to help. After all, most of his free life, he’d been on his own. He scoured his mind for ways to help his grandson (just the thought of being called ‘grandpa’ gave him a strange feeling in his chest. It was not unpleasant), but he was coming up blank.
“Have you spoken to Nero or Kyrie?” he suggested.
Julio shook his head, “They’re busy with Kyle, and I don’t wanna bug them. Don’t wanna make them unhappy.”
Of course, Julio would never be a bother to Nero. His son, for all his brashness, had a big heart and was a loving dad to the three of them. But Vergil knew that saying that wouldn’t change the child’s mind, said thoughts were like bloodstains on white sheets, once set in, nearly impossible to remove.
He took a deep breath, and suggested something else. Perhaps he could take Julio’s (and his own) mind off of their uncomfortable situation.
“Shall we take a walk?”
And so each of them holding hands, both of them walked away from the abominations on stage, away from the flashing arcade screens, and to what was possibly the quietest part of the building: the playroom. There were cushions, bouncy pads, slides, and in the centre, a big deserted ball pit, filled to the brim with a rainbow of plastic balls.
Julio’s eyes widened, and he tugged again on Vergil’s sleeve.
“Grandpa Vergil! Let's go into the ballpit!”
He had already taken his shoes off and was beginning to clamber over the plastic steps before looking back at the older man. Vergil hadn’t moved, looking at the list of rules plastered on the entrance.
“Unfortunately, it seems there’s an age restriction,” he admitted, “only children ten years and younger are allowed. I’m afraid you’ll have to go in alone. I will watch.”
Julio’s face fell, and while he still pushed aside the flaps to jump in, there was an added reluctance. And as he ‘swam’ through the balls, it was all halfhearted and without any enthusiasm. Vergil looked at the sign, the age rules there in stark black and white, and frowned. Vergil was far too old to enter, but as he looked down at Yamato, he knew of someone far younger. He would just have to do it out of sight of Julio, the poor boy didn’t need any more trauma.
“Hey Nero,” Nico poked the young man’s shoulder roughly, “I just came in from my smoke break,” (her sixth of the evening, Nero had grumpily noticed), “and you won’t believe what I saw!” And without warning she took his hand, and yanked him away from his family, and across the the restaurant
“Nico, what the fu-fudge are you talking about?” he bit back a curse as she abruptly stopped, in front of the playroom.
She didn’t say a word, just smiled, placed a tobacco stained index finger to her lips, and pointed towards the ballpit. He followed her finger, and then spotted what she was pointing at.
There, playing with the balls, a blissful look on his face, was Julio. Nero had been a bit worried when Kyle had asked to come here for his birthday, since the youngest child was always a bit skittish in these types of situations, but Julio had insisted he wouldn’t be a bother, he wanted his big brother to have a good birthday. But the entire time, he’d been silent and reclusive. To see him happily playing made Nero feel warm with pride.
But that wasn’t all, along with the child was a familiar, if unexpected person with him. There, lazily floating on the balls, his soft green eyes never leaving Julio, was V. And like his grandson, he had a contented smile as he tossed a ball perfectly into a miniature basketball net.
“Uh,” Nico whispered, “Your old man DOES know that there’s an age limit to this place, right?” She flicked a thumb at the ruleboard.
“Just let them be,” Nero smiled at the duo from afar, “at this point, V’s only a year and a half old…”