[He squints at the rose. Are you for real, come on, Dante. He hates being related to you.

But there's not much time for that, or to voice it, before he has to get rid of those swords. A roundhouse kick should do away with most of them (he supposes he'll find out) and in the next instant he's once again disappeared and rematerialised before Dante, aiming a greave to his chin.]