[There, over a small campfire that's burned low, sits a pretty nondescript pot. The same pot, in fact, viewers might remember from the time Vergil decided to slice his own arm up and boil down to the bones in. Yet it looks rather innocuous where it sits, bubbling sluggishly, steam rising from it in a light mist.
And there's Vergil, having stolen
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Logic would state I was boiling a skull. Now I'm taking it home.
[Said ever so bluntly.]
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Sae and I have a bit of a history together, so I thought it best to leave no room for doubt where I stand, concerning her.
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