[He lets his hand be swatted away, but he does not let Nero push him into any particular hazard of leaning let alone tipping over. Vergil remains where he is, but grunts quietly as Nero slips and flops down into his lap. He clicks his tongue in faux offense at Nero sticking his tongue out at him, admonishing him by grabbing hold of Nero's chin and giving his head a light shake.]

Ah, there they are. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned all semblance of manners. [He releases Nero's chin and lets him be.] But I suppose I owe you an apology for doubting you. Your toast appears to have done the trick.