Finishing his meal in silence, the dead look on his face never changing in the slightest, Vergil gets up, grabs his bag, and head outside to go to class as he was supposed to.  The scratches on his back flare up with every step, but he shows no reaction to them at all.  There was no way they were self inflicted, given the angle and how far down they went.  From his neck down to the base of his spine, Vergil had 'dreamed' that he was tied up to a post in the middle of the cemetery and his grandfather's ghost had tried to kill him, running filthy claws up and down his bare skin.  Vergil had woken up when the marks were made, just barely getting a pillow over his mouth to stifle the scream that had come out of him.  He doesn't think of any of that though, simply walking with robotic like movements to where he was supposed to go, not even acknowledging the others as he reaches their position.