Vergil says nothing to V's additional suggestion, but the combination of look and sharp exhale certainly speak to his aggravation well enough without words needing to enter the fray. He leads the way without attempting any sort of conversation, although his silence is less deafening and more to his preference of not attempting to force a conversation. Which perhaps it would not feel forced to V, but it certainly would to Vergil. He can't imagine there's anything of particular importance either one of them needs to necessarily say to the other. The only thing he could possibly fathom is perhaps satisfying some curiosity of V's about how exactly it all came together in the end, but of what importance is that to him now? V has determined a will of his own to live his own life now, and what has been for Vergil will come to pass when V returns. It's ultimately irrelevant. As for Vergil, he cannot claim a particular curiosity about V. Not enough to demonstrate more than a passing interest.

Vergil comes to a stop outside the Catfe.

"You wanted small dishes that aren't messy," he says, folding his arms. "This is the closest you are likely going to find within the range you can walk. Unless you have some other criterion that you failed to share."

Vergil, frankly, looks like he would rather be anywhere else. He hasn't been frequenting the Catfe nearly as often these days because it's a spot that he prefers to be on his own, but there's little denying that he's a regular. Especially as a few of the cats seem to be vying for attention from the window.