[The anecdote is charming. He's seen the family portrait now, so he has a very clear image of little Dante and Vergil seeking solace with their mother. Dante needing a lullaby to knock him out, while Vergil stubbornly insisted he didn't, until he did. Sounds like they've not changed at all.]

Yeah, you definitely don't want me singing you lullabies. [He breaks into a chuckle at the end of the sentence, no doubt picturing the scene.

It must have been nice... having a mother. Or a brother, for that matter. The other orphans were more like classmates than family members, and Nero got along with them differently at different times as kids came and went. But not him. All he had were the sisters who took care of the place. Sister Maria, the one who came up with the honey toast idea to soothe a restless and crying little Nero. Maybe a few times, when she was around at bedtime, he crawled into the lap of Kyrie's mother just to see what it was like.

He doesn't really want to get into any of that out loud. As much as it's sharing a piece of himself, it feels to him like a lowkey indictment of Vergil. If things were different, Nero could have crawled into his lap, or Beatrice's. But they weren't.

And anyway... it's not about him right now. They're here to take care of Vergil.]

What kind of stuff did she sing? Like, old folk songs or... [He barely knows any that aren't about Sparda. Which he imagines would be weird for her to sing.]