Oh. [Is all he says for a moment. He didn't intend to cross over into a sad memory with that question. On second thought, he feels like kicking himself for asking about Eva at all. She died when the twins were eight. But it's hard to know where the line is when he only knows the broad strokes. Even more so when he knows he doesn't really have the experience to guess as much by empathy. He never had a mother. Or he did, rather, and lost her so long ago it was like she was never real in his eyes.

How's that old saying go? Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have known love at all? Something like that.

At least Vergil gives him something to recover with.] I think music's like food. Everybody needs it... you just gotta find what you like.

[He gives his father a slight sidelong glance and smiles faintly.] I'd peg you for a classical guy, with the poetry and all but. I don't know. Maybe you're a secret metalhead and we don't know it yet.