[Nero's proud of his improvement over the past few months. It's still nowhere near as strong as he'd like to be, and Vergil still gives him quite a thrashing more often than not, but he's at least more emotionally balanced now. He's not had another meltdown the level of that embarrassment after their first session-- if only by intense effort to bite down on his frustration altogether, refusing to demonstrate the bulk of it until he's on his own later working on his heavy bag in the garage. (He has broken it four times already.)
Today, he's doing... fine enough. A few good hits, a few more dumb mistakes. But he's starting to learn his own potential, finally getting the hang of the new skills his blood grants him. And that means he can improvise-- Nero's absolute specialty when it comes to battle. Intense skill and masterful planning and extensive experience are all powerful tools in one's arsenal, but so is the ability to make up some wild shit that nobody will ever expect. This is how he manages to whip out a wing in midair, pluck Vergil out of their bladelocked clash, then sock him hard with the other wing, sending him to the dirt.
Yes, he is extremely proud of this, looking smugger than hell when he lands in front of Vergil. But he knows his father well enough by now to know there ought to have been a follow-up there. Even if he's not sure what, something has already struck him as "weird." The lack of retaliation, sure but also... is he... breathing heavy?]
If I did, I'd never hear the end of it from you. [Pull punches, that is. Vergil never does (or at least, never admits to it...) so why should he?
Red Queen's ready for more (Nero generally refrains from shooting bullets at his damn showoff of a dad, if only because it's a waste of bullets.) But Nero hesitates. It is that "weird" feeling that prevents Nero from rushing in for a follow-up while his father stands there... fixing his hair??]
You need a breather, old man? Did I hit you too hard?
no subject
Today, he's doing... fine enough. A few good hits, a few more dumb mistakes. But he's starting to learn his own potential, finally getting the hang of the new skills his blood grants him. And that means he can improvise-- Nero's absolute specialty when it comes to battle. Intense skill and masterful planning and extensive experience are all powerful tools in one's arsenal, but so is the ability to make up some wild shit that nobody will ever expect. This is how he manages to whip out a wing in midair, pluck Vergil out of their bladelocked clash, then sock him hard with the other wing, sending him to the dirt.
Yes, he is extremely proud of this, looking smugger than hell when he lands in front of Vergil. But he knows his father well enough by now to know there ought to have been a follow-up there. Even if he's not sure what, something has already struck him as "weird." The lack of retaliation, sure but also... is he... breathing heavy?]
If I did, I'd never hear the end of it from you. [Pull punches, that is. Vergil never does (or at least, never admits to it...) so why should he?
Red Queen's ready for more (Nero generally refrains from shooting bullets at his damn showoff of a dad, if only because it's a waste of bullets.) But Nero hesitates. It is that "weird" feeling that prevents Nero from rushing in for a follow-up while his father stands there... fixing his hair??]
You need a breather, old man? Did I hit you too hard?