A/N: Honestly? No excuse; I just really, (and I mean really) wanted smut without having an active plot or story. And then I remembered there exists such a genre; so here I am! Why do I name my SerasxWalter fics in foreign languages? I don't know; it just seems more romantic and mysterious to me, or something /shrug. Regardless, I hope you enjoy; this would be my official first time writing real smut (yay!). So apologies if it seems to be written rather strangely.

This did have to be cut in half since it was getting ridiculously long; I'll post it sometime later this week. Next chapter will be naughty! :)

#just for context though because I can't handle it when the readers aren't filled in; #Schrodinger never did that 'thing' so Alucard is alive and well #Walter actually 'was' captured and brainwashed #kind of #so basically everything is a-okay #among other things #but those are mentioned within the fic itself

quid pro quo
(I)

IT TOOK INTEGRA merely a week to pick Hellsing up from the remnants it left in its' destruction, to truly build it up again, and it took her a full three months to have it mostly standing in its' former glory. There was still much work to be done, possibly years worth rebuilding; her men, her physical manor. Nothing would ever the same; and during such times, she'd almost succumbed to grief. Not just from the almost-loss of her faithful and loyal servant, but from the circumstances surrounding her. She was only human after all; one woman, and a mortal one, at that, despite the offers that have been given to her.

Seras Victoria could only do so much for her, as she was.

Alucard always came first and foremost. He'd almost been gone to them, forever; at least, that's the kind of impression The Major had given to Sir Integra, at the time. It'd only lasted for such a fleeting moment, that frightening sensation, the heavy grief that came with her master nearly disappearing like that all over again; but within that moment, all the two ladies had were each other. Much to their relief, he never did.

And, thankfully, Walter didn't either.

Seras shudders, even now, to think what would have happened had the fat pig of a man not divulged that last-minute detail; what Walter had sarcastically delivered to her in hopes of crushing her hope had actually rang fine and true. He was no traitor, not in the way he'd presented, and that was enough for Seras. At the time, she'd thought it was the end of the squabble; Alucard had, surprisingly, enough sense through his power hungry rampancy to spare the former Hellsing's butler's life just before truly finishing him off. Though, he seemed almost disappointed to do so; but it was under Sir Integra's order and she's sure, under that pretentious, egotistical, blood-thirsty facade he wrapped himself in, there was relief too. Relief that, at least once in a long while, he hadn't made an enemy from some petty grudge or self-imposed rivalry; relief that he didn't have to lose another friend.

Yet, they weren't so easily convinced.

And she was no fool; young and soft-hearted she may be, but she wasn't stupid. It was enough for Seras to feel relief, but it wasn't enough to convince her; not for any of them. And Walter? He blamed none of them; he'd even offered himself, on his knees no less, his head to Sir Integra; even if his actions were a direct result of Nazi brainwashing and forced surgery, what he did was utterly inexcusable. Integra agreed to such a fact, but she didn't take any type of blood or death as payment for such damage, much to Alucard's slight dismay at the lost chance to do such a thing. The trust was cracked, but the care wasn't; he would remain to Hellsing, but this time by a chain rather than by choice. Walter had qualms, but the look in Intergra's eyes was more than enough confirmation that would be all in the matter. He only smiled in gratitude, which she returned in kind.

The chip had been a finicky contraption to deal with; it had been embedded at the base of his neck. Whether that was the case for all of Millenium's vampires remained to be confirmed, but Seras could only imagine it was a special case for him; after all, why not give special treatment to their personalized, and forced, element of surprise? What better way to screw Hellsing over with their very own faithful and loyal butler? But that'd been beside the point; not only was the chip a delicate thing to remove, and delicate, but it was unstable. The question remained whether he needed it to survive. When they undid the forceful surgery, it was found that he didn't, much to everyone's relief. The chip only served to control his mind, which mostly was the cerebral cortex and the left hemisphere of his brain, in more simple terms; everything else depended on the chip to give him ten times more ample strength, speed and agility than that of a human. And once that was fully removed, everyone expected him to revert to his true age. Except he didn't; he reverted to the one that was presented upon them at his betrayal.

Who knows how much they experimented on him; how complicated the process was and what the effects were. Miraculously, despite the chip being removed, it seemed the longevity of his life and enhanced abilities weren't affected so; he could still move about and had his youthful spirit back, it didn't consume him anymore. Walter still coughed out blood occasionally, and he was ordered to rest more, and to take specially-made medicine in the form of pills that helped his body deal with the exertion, a crutch as it were. A near seventy five-year old man didn't just revert to the body of a mid-twenty year old without physical strain. Such a shame that such genius mind, The Doctor's, was put to such disgusting waste. He'd been on to something near immortal, and it was wasted on Nazism.

Much to Walter's dismay, because of his new, current condition, he'd been demoted; well surely not just because of his condition, but still. Not even a butler. Gardener. Not even the head Gardener; just the one that tended to the weeds. He hated weeds; he even refused the duty when he was fourteen. To do so at this age was humiliating. At the news, it took everything in him not to groan; he'd forgotten that, at this ripened age, his features weren't weighed down by too much wisdom or emotions. His brows would twitch, a lip would quirk, and his eyes would flicker all too easily; subtle actions that revealed his form of thinking, and served as amusement for both Integra and Alucard. Integra had him on strict orders to, in her phrasing, recede immediately should he feel dizzy or start coughing up blood again, take his medicine and lay for rest. He didn't have the body of an old man anymore, but he was being treated like one; even more so than when he actually was the physical age.

And it wasn't just Alucard or Integra that noticed the visible change; most of Hellsing's staff, soldiers, recruits and servants alike had all been replaced after the carnage. There were plenty of fresh, new faces, ones that didn't live through the years with Hellsing; the only ones who did, beside Alucard, Integra, Walter and even Seras herself, dwindled in numbers. They all noticed a rather new, handsome, tall and young gardener; they spoke in hushed whispers and word got around plenty fast.

That's Walter C. Dornez? The ancient butler that betrayed Hellsing? The one with the wires? I thought he was supposed to be… well, ancient?

Oh my, if that's what his betrayal wreaked on his body, I think it was well worth it, don't you think?

Is it wrong that I fancy him? Only a little? He's the age of my grandfather, but he's well physically younger; I don't think I mind.

Certainly not! He's up for grabs, I think, though slightly inappropriate, if anything.

Is he single?

Does it really matter if he is? Or isn't?

Walter, though marginally flattered, opted to try and evade such comments when possible. He pretended not to hear of them, to which Alucard kindly reminded him that, indeed, he was Hellsing's very own appointed eligible bachelor. The blood had rushed to his face faster than he ever remembered his heart working at this age. Despite his efforts, even when not trying to, he found that he charmed many; his words reflected his true age, and apparently, combined with his youthful looks, seemed to have a positive effect on the young maids. They blushed and giggled like… well, young women tended to do; it made him feel rather awkward and overwhelmed. He was literally being himself; an old and rather outdated John Bull. It was… an experience to have his young body again; a nice one, for sure, but strange and almost alien. He hadn't been this age well in… well, decades. He almost felt like a stranger in possession of another's body; it wasn't until he looked through his own photographs that he confirmed to himself that, indeed, this was his body alright.

And Seras, of course she noticed all of this; she was becoming more and more like her former master, at times, blending with the shadows and observing rather than participating. Arguably, she noticed most of all, beside Walter himself. Though she was happy and relieved to have him alive and well, to have her initial suspicions confirmed, something… didn't sat well with her. It was an instinctual pull, almost; a festering thing that shifted as much as her shadowy arm. She'd received him as well as anyone else in the manor did, in the beginning of this venture; with open arms and even crimson tears in her eyes and she would make sure to always greet him in kind, always beaming or waving. Sometimes, she would even approach him for weapon help, whenever her anti-talk rifle would present her with complications. He was still the same Walter she's come to known.

And yet, something was off.

Soon, slowly and surely, she would begin to feel… rather odd; he was being odd around her. Within two months, her greetings would become less exciting, less enthusiastic when his would seem so; it was almost like he was trying to avoid her. She was still kind, still very her in gesture and personality; but something shifted within her, between them, and she still couldn't place why. Seeing him now was strange; as if the novelty of a rejuvenated Walter was starting to wear off, and other things were coming to light… things that she hadn't considered up until now.

So she began following him, hoping to find within him a defect or oddity she could place for why he's been acting strange around her. And whether or not it was because of his seemingly unfamiliarity with his youth and body, Walter never caught on to her mischievous habit, and that encouraged her to continue. It wasn't just observing him in the garden; she would challenge herself, see how far she could actually go without being caught. It was starting, she acknowledged to herself, to get a little strange. She's gotten as far as his bedroom; she made it a point to herself, and rather firmly, that was not a territory she would touch. She didn't like that she was being so creepy, and yet, curiosity got the better of her. Often, she finds herself wondering if there rang some truth of his supposed betrayal; it tugged at her chest and mind. Did her perhaps feel like he had to prove something against Alucard? Sure, she could ask him; but she got the feeling that he wouldn't answer honestly. She's run into him in the hallway twice after her realization to his estranged behavior, unintentionally and in those two times, he's given her an odd look along with a tilt of his head, wordlessly asking if she were alright and what she'd been doing in such adjacent hallways, for only mostly servant-staff came to that particular side of the manor. And both times, she stumbled over her words, apparently unable to conjure up a proper response just by the look of his face alone, before excusing herself rather hastily. Seeing him so up close made her feel strange, combined with the fact he'd also seemed like he was avoiding eye contact, made her even more uncomfortable.

And so, one sunny afternoon, Seras finds herself looking at him through the window on the top floor. Like a true stalker indeed, eh? He's hard at work, focused on his task; thanks to her vision, she can just see how he's working up a sweat. He looks peculiar with a hat and an apron; like a house-husband. She chuckles; she's never seen Walter sport such things. Then again, she's never seen Walter this young; at least, not actively trying to harm or maim them. It's an odd thing to see; his expression is anything but serene. He's frowning, like he's trying really hard not to lose it; it's not secret that gardening was never something he had patience for. And, after all, he told her once, when they walked through the very garden; he'd been reminiscing to her about his past, and the fact just came out. She'd laughed with him about it, they both had. They'd always share small moments like that, before his betrayal. She'd help him out sometimes, with the cleaning or the cooking.

And now I can't even stand near the man without going blank.

A voice cuts through her reminiscing, "I think you rather fancy him." She sputters, more so at the scandalous claim and being caught rather than the voice; the french timbre is unmistakable, the source coming out of her limb. Pip. She scoffs after gathering herself and readjusting her position, away from the window. "Oh, mon cher, there's no need to deny it; it's clear as day. Though, I won't say I'm not slightly jealous. Yet, to know you're not above watching a man's derriere at work is rather unexpected, but not boring in the slightest…"

She almost chokes on her saliva. "I— I wasn't!" her pitch is just a tad too high to be the absolute truth; she clears her throat, "I mean— No, that's exactly what I mean, and I swear, I wasn't! That's not even… close to what—" is she really having this conversation right now? With her bloody arm? "It's not like that!"

"Cheri, you forget to whom you address; I'm inside your subconscious. I can literally tell when you're trying to lie; this would be one of those times." Her mouth dries, but she continues to remain adamant at his accusations; she can literally feel the smirk right through her chest and stomach. A feeling she finds rather odd.

"Yeah, well… —well, I thought that traditionally, proper familiars were to remain until summoned." And part of her feels rather guilty; after what Pip and her shared, the kiss, though it translated more as a cheeky goodbye rather than a confession, still weighs heavily on her. It had only been a few months! But Pip doesn't seem to share her reasoning; it's almost like he's encouraging this, giving her the proverbial thumbs up. That doesn't really make things any better for her.

She gets the impression that he shrugs, "Yeah, well, you're not exactly a traditional vampire, are you? I don't exactly abide by the rules if my lovely host doesn't." Damn him. "I heard that."

"I am not talking about this— this— non-existent scandal you're trying to pine onto me! It's not what you think!" Okay, fine, she's young and she has eyes; she can appreciate a bloody good view. She's virgin, not a bloody nun! But— but that doesn't mean she's… not... pining. Argh! Alright, so what if Walter is… is… She blinks, more surprised at herself than she's willing to admit. "B-buh...b-bu—"

Pip laughs; he has the audacity to bloody laugh! And not at all unlike the first time they met. "You… you are just… too adorable, mon cher."

Seras grits her teeth, continuing her spiel, "But! That's not what I'm concerned about, alright?"

"You're right, but you're certainly not complaining on the view. To be honest? I wouldn't either."

"I just! Need to know, alright?" At that, Pip remains silent, contemplating; he knows her, inside and out now. Her words are only the truth, and he knows of the feelings that have taken been ebbing at her soul. He lets her admit it to herself, "… it's been bothering me. Surely you know that. No doubt you've felt it too, in there, or rather, in here..." she taps her head solemnly. He doesn't disagree and he tells her so. Seras lets out a tired sigh, "I don't know… I just… feel… Could I have done more? I called it, you know? Literally right in the moment! Couldn't I have just…?"

"Is that's what's really bothering you?"

"Yes..." It's subtly hinted that he doesn't believe her. She doesn't care what he wants or doesn't want to believe; she knows her truth.

"Oh Seras, you have… such a heart; you grieve what isn't even your fault. You have too much love, too much care to give to others, even when it has nothing to do with you in the first place. One of the many reasons you had me wrapped around your finger when I was alive." Despite the phantom-feeling of a blush, she doesn't know how to take that, and she asks him about it. "What I mean is; if the knowledge of the situation doesn't elude me, you're saying you feel… guilty, is it? For not being able to do more? Seeing him like this, young; it reminds you of when he announced his betrayal, doesn't it?"

Licking her lips in slight impatience, she murmurs, "The point, Pip; the bloody point."

"I'm getting there, blasted draculina. Why do you feel guilty, of all things? You know this has nothing to do with you; no part of this ever did. Even if he perhaps did share contempt for that master of yours, why are you taking it so personally?"

The dry sensation of her throat is a hard one to ignore as she tries to get her voice in order. "I… I'm not." She can feel his brow raising; or rather, sees it in her mind. "I'm bloody not! It's just… I don't… I don't know, alright? I didn't feel like this before; not in the beginning, anyway. But I remember what he said to me at the time; Pip, he practically cried out for help when he admitted that, to me no less. Not Alucard and not Sir Integra, me! And all I said to him was a bloody 'thanks and take care, even though I totally know Master is about to fuck you over bloody well'! I could have… couldn't I have picked up what he was trying to say? Wasn't it obvious?" Is she making any sense? Perhaps she's just complaining and feeling this way because she has way too much time on her hands.

"If your boss and the damn fucking Count didn't catch on just before it was too late, what makes you think you could have?" That shouldn't sting; she knows he's saying that to dissuade her convoluted form of thinking, but… it hurts. Is she really so incompetent? "Mon cher, you're over-analyzing this; it's cute, truly, but don't wear yourself out over it. There was only so much you could do; there's only so much anyone can do in such situations."

"He's been… avoiding me lately."

"...oh?" he sounds intrigued and unsure. "I don't know about that; how would you even come to a conclusion? All you do is follow the man around like a duckling; perhaps he doesn't talk to you because you literally won't approach him any other way," he considers his words, and adds a little more quietly, "Are you sure that maybe he knows you're shadowing him and is just too unsettled by it? I mean, you're very easy on the eyes and… actually, nevermind, I wouldn't be complaining."

She closes herself up, physically, drawing in her legs and all but burying her chin into her knees and groans. "I've only ran into him twice; in those two times, I ran away like a frightened kitty, but he seemed like… like he… didn't really want to talk to me? Kind of?" she pauses, thinking over the two incidents; after all, there was a reason she was more inclined to following him than approaching him outright. Come to think of it, even the times when she'd actively sought him out, greeting him and approaching for help, Walter seemed… not at all there. Like he couldn't wait to leave. A coldness washes over her, and the words are out before she can process them.

"Does Walter… resent me?"

"Now you're just being nonsensical; look now, fille, even if you could have done more —emphasis on could, alright?— why are you speaking as if though he was your personal responsibility? He's not even your butler; he's the butler of your Master's boss. I don't know how further you can get away from that!" He has a point, and the more he speaks about it, the more she realizes the truth seeping through the core of the matter; she's always known, always kept it in a compartment stacked away far in her brain, even until now. Seras doesn't tell Pip the times she's spent with Walter as he was before the Millenium incident happened; she doesn't tell him of the times she helped with menial chores, how they would engage in small friendly chat in between all the missions, or how she'd sometimes be lucky enough to have him reminisce on his past life as an active part of the war. She doesn't tell him because it is only now it's starting to materialize in her brain that maybe… just maybe somewhere along the blurred lines, she actually… she was starting to—

Only she doesn't get to finish that train of thought before it truly manifests and thank the bloody Queen for that because if were to think anymore, Pip would surely—

A new presence from the depths of the shadows in the room manifest into a tall figure next to her. Though she's grown tremendously from the vampire fledgling she used to be, even she can't help but flinch at the intrusion.

"Police Girl," sinister smile in place and everything; she can only imagine how long he's been standing here, listening to every bit of the conversation. She's quite thankful he can't read her mind anymore, but based on that face, she imagines that he probably doesn't even need to. Here it comes… she expects a laugh or a chuckle, or a jibe at her predicament or her words; it never comes. "Our dearest Master has summoned you at once..."

...eh? Me?

Alucard looks for all the world like he's trying not to laugh outright; not an unusual expression in the slightest, but one that confirms her immediate fears. Yep, he heard everything alright; he won't let me live it down. However, if he won't make mention of it, then she won't either. "E-err, for what exactly? New mission?" Please be a new a mission; maybe I'll get to blow something up…

As expected, she gets no answer from her former Sire. He's already at the door, waiting for her almost impatiently. Her fingers twitch at his smile; like he knows that she's uneasy. "Oh, don't worry; she only needs one thing. Once you're done, you can come back; I'm sure the… flowers won't be getting far." Seras gulps, her face blanching.

It doesn't help that Pip's laugh reverberates through her head. Oh bloody shut up, wanker. That just makes him laugh harder.

As they make their way through the halls, her eyes wander away, and she momentarily forgets herself, as her field of vision lands on a distinct blue and white blur; her vampire vision had it's perks. Walter looks no less frustrated as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. He seems to get tired faster these days and her heart trembles at the thought; that should be getting better, not worse—

Like a butcher's knife, Alucard's voice cuts through the air and into her reverie, "Stay alert, Police Girl; you've been getting very lax lately," she gets the very distinct impression, not unlike a breeze, that he's smirking; it'd be typical of him and— wait, what? Where the bloody hell did that come from? She pouts, burning holes in Alucard's crimson garments; if he feels the burn of her gaze, which he probably does, he makes no mention of it. She thought he'd been over the whole nickname bit. He's so… mean! Come to think on it, he hadn't treated her any differently since her transformation; she thought she would at least earn to be called by her name. "If I didn't know any better," bull to the fucking shit, "I'd say you've been distracted; we don't want that, do we?"

She doesn't want to dignify that with a response, not wanting to give the satisfaction. He seems satisfied enough, bloody bastard. "What does Sir Integra wish of me? Mission? Training new recruits? Oh! A spying mission! Is it intel!? I've never done one of those before..."

"You talk too much. She'll tell you when we get there; otherwise she wouldn't have called for you in the first place," he pauses, "And, actually, she's been calling for you through the intercom system; took her a double take to make sure you were still within the parameters. To think, you ended up in the very room that has no intercom system; peculiar choice to play I spy."

Oh bloody— "Not you too! Please Master, don't give me a hard time about it, alright? I was just coming to terms with it myself and I just— I mean, I am still very well bloody nineteen, I shouldn't be shamed for looking at men, especially not healthy-looking men and I w-won't feel cornered and—" She clamps hands over her mouth, trying not to reveal more than what she's already divulged to her familiar, or herself for that matter; the phantom-feeling of having blood heat her face is all inevitable.

It's even more so when she hears Alucard chuckle. "Why Seras, aren't you throwing a fine passion? I don't think I even mentioned anything about men; I was simply referring to those bluebell flowers you kept watching so very intensely." Liar liar fucking bloody liar! Eurgh! When will the humiliation cease! She knows very well that he knows that those blasted bluebells were the very ones that Walter was—

Seras tries to make so much as another sound until they arrive to Sir Integra's office. Alucard doesn't seem to notice, or rather, care. Her will doesn't last too long; "Why are we taking the long way through the halls?" she asks, fidgeting, desperately wanting to talk about anything else.

"Don't be impatient," that's a surprise, coming from him of all people. "Sometimes it's so easy to forget how many… welcoming sights are in this manor. It's important to be familiar with the interior anyway. Though, I would say you're very familiar, aren't you? Despite your short amount of time here." Her eyebrow twitches, and she almost interrupts —with what, she doesn't know, until: "Speaking of Walter," What?! "I must say, he's adapting quite well, don't you agree?" This time, he does turn slightly to her, as if genuinely regarding her answer, his smirk all too present.

Seras has never wanted to sink in a hole beneath ground so much as she does now. "I—" she concedes with a gulp, "I… I suppose so. He's doing great; seems like he's adjusting well, despite everything." Though I'm not sure about that constant fatigue of his...

Her answer seems to satisfy him. "Indeed; he's expressed his concerns… with being here, I mean. He's still getting used to the idea of being accepted here, even after everything's happened. I suppose once loyal, always loyal. Although, I'm surprised though you'd come to such a conclusion."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"You hardly talk to him."

Her chest feel like it's vibrating; why does she always feel like she's on trial with Alucard? Or everyone else for that matter… "I have..." she shrugs, "Not that you really need to do so to get that out of him. I… I mean," what is she even trying to say anymore? She gulps again, her throat feeling particularly parched throughout this conversation. "I guess so."

"Hm. Any particular reason why?"

"M-master, you're quite in a chatty mood, aren't you?"

"And for once, you aren't; funny how these things work, doesn't it?" How what things work? "Perhaps you should fix that."

She blinks, "I… I'm sorry, what?" Did he… did Alucard just give her advice? Her eyes lower and she considers Pip's words from earlier. Could it be she's just overreacting? It doesn't mean I have to do anything, but maybe I… maybe I do fan—

"Police Girl, look sharp."

"I said maybe! Eh—!? ...Oh, sorry; I was just… thinking out loud." Alucard ignores her, and they enter Integra's office.

But she can't bring herself to focus for the briefing that Integra provides for them, nor the light scolding she receives in regards of her failure to arrive promptly when called; her attention placed elsewhere.

( &. )

Seras can't for the life of her shake Alucard's words off; not for that briefing, and not for the next week. In her self-imposed predicament, she actively stops her incessant following, despite the urges, the curiosity. She didn't have the heart or mind to do so, and now it was her trying to actively avoid him. The minute times they would inevitably run into each other, she wouldn't even greet anymore; it was always a half second of eye contact, followed by hurried scuttling on her end. The unorthodox advice, from Alucard no less, never really escape her mind, and so she tries, or rather, she thinks about trying. But what the hell am I going to bloody say? Oh hey there Walter, I've noticed that it almost looks like you don't want to talk to me; I only know this because I've been following you everywhere around the mansion, by the way, and also because I can't seem to look anywhere else that isn't your arse. Care to talk about it over a cup of tea? She groans at the thought. This is stupid; I'm being so stupid and for no reason. Maybe Walter doesn't even notice, better yet maybe he doesn't even care. Meanwhile, I'm here miserable and uptight about a problem isn't even a problem to begin with and— This is becoming repetitive and dull, and she's getting antsy over it.

One night, she finds herself unable to sleep. She never could get used to the bloody coffin, no matter what she became; sure, in hindsight, it did make her stronger, but that was more out of a training habit than a fact. Vampires didn't need to sleep in a coffin; she's no Alucard. The rain with occasional thunder roaring in her ears isn't helping either. On nights like these, Seras would remain awake, counting sheep until she got at least some semblance of rest. But with everything that's been swirling around, and especially on a night like this, it's just damn near impossible. "Blast it," she murmurs, before all but kicking the lid right off, the strong hinges of it not letting it hit the floor. With a heaving sigh, she removes herself, and stays still, absorbing the noises around her. Oddly, she feels numb; like she's just woken up from a blank dream. Nothing.

"Aw, to bloody hell with it," she knows what she needs; it's not often she seeks nourishment like this. Just because she's been fully transitioned doesn't mean she's eager to go hunting prey, in addition to the fact she wasn't exactly eager to have so many souls inside her; even now, she would still try to have a semblance of her humanity, she normally had a couple in her small pantry, but she knew for a fact she didn't have any presently. She usually drank in the mornings and would try to keep it that way; therefore, she began her little journey through the Hellsing manor.

Her fuzzy-slipper clad feet already knew where to go; with every intention to go up. Walter isn't the butler anymore, and there was no apparent need to baby Hellsing's vampires. If they wanted blood, they could very well go out and find it. The blood bags were in a special refrigeration unit upstairs; she only knows this because she once helped Walter in retrieving them. Even with the night vision making the interior clear as day, Seras let her mind wander. That's all she ever does these days; that's what Alucard had mentioned to her. Vaguely, she wonder if it was a warning. Everything feels rather mute. Bleak, almost, and it's in that moment she realizes that she's taken this little situation too far. Discouraged. That's what it is. The strikes of thunder outside flash the hallways, and she lets her gaze refocus; her mouth waters.

Hmm, I must really be hungry, then.

It takes a good push and pull on the handle of the room door to get it open, once she arrives, yet it opens a lot easier than she would have initially thought. The actual storage unit is one of the many things that seem ancient in this whole place; she once asked Walter why build the refrigerator, holding blood of all things, and for vampires no less, up here rather than down there. He merely shrugged and she thought nothing of it. It's not just a straight up refrigeration unit, which remains inside the room; outside there are other things, too; extra weapons, armor, bullets, guns. Like a janitor's closet, but for mercenaries.

Half of her body is in the room, and as she's rubbing her eyes of the sleep, "~Alright now; blood bags, blood bags… where art thou blood bags…?" a peculiar scent wafts her nose, and vampire mode kicks in before she can even process the situation. Her vision zooms in, her fangs are pulled out; all she sees, feels, is red, red and more red. Her shadowy tendril is clawed and halfway through the air; her body is a spear, and her fangs the blade. She slams the intruder by the scruff of the neck against the refrigerator handle, specifically so it could hurt, squeezing the body like a stress ball. She can see crimson fluid oozing out of the mouth; a thief…? Who would—

And then, Seras wonders how her bloody luck could have gotten so low.

Because, of course, none other than bloody Walter C. Dornez is within her grasp.