Normally, she liked this little bit of swiftly tilting jazz, she really did. But there was something like insubordination in these last few sliding, oozing lines of chord and melody. It sounded like the music was telling her politely to fuck off.

Never one to enjoy fucking off in its myriad of ways and times, no matter the key – Integra got up from behind her massive mahogany throne to trip the needle past this niggling little burble of annoying music.

Fingering the large stylus across the vinyl, Integra scrunched her forehead together in a most unbecoming way when the continuation on the annoyingly droll riff continued on its merry, slap-silly way into her patrician ears, albeit in a more or less human way.

The police girl had appeared behind the Gramophone and taken up humming to herself in her obnoxiously girlish voice. In the middle of the night; it certainly wasn't Seras who had got it into her little yellow head to be annoying her here, was it?

"Creature..." hissed Integra to herself, intoning with the dead air as slithered out of the ancient speaker.

"Oh Sir, I rather liked that one! I mean, most of your jazzo-stuff is so boring, isn't it? But this one's not half bad, with the cute horn bits and all – really!", the police girl bobbed at her mistress's steel cold glare with a heaping handful of her usual cluelessness.

"Why are you here, vampire?", Integra glared at her newest little demon, attempting to drown her ebullience with the cold and most functional disdain, hoping to flush the fledgling back to whatever work she was currently being made to shirk for the amusement of her... her "master"...

"Pig-swiver", Integra swore vehemently under breath at the very thought of calling that creature her Master...

"Sir!", Ceras gawped, a hand comically pressed to her fangs in chagrin at such foul language.

"Oh stop it, you undead ninny. What do you need at this hour?", Integra huffed, burying her amusement at the young woman's high irony. A creature whose very existence was a profane curse, offended by a little blue language – really...

"Uh, My Master said you had need of me, sir – so here I am."

"Well, I believe we just discussed your Master, didn't we? As you can plainly see, I am doing office work and have no need of you at all. Good night to you, Officer. You may go."

"Oh. Well. I see.", shuffled the uncomfortable girl in her very large black boots, going nowhere fast.

The Mistress of Hellsing ignored her undead servant utterly for the space of about 3 seconds – just about the time the fledgling vampire began humming that obnoxious slide of chords again.

Blue eyes full of stakes and fire flew up against the police girl's wide, frightened red eyes. Then the pain started.

A brass inkwell shot into the hallway, narrowly missing the scurrying form of the hunched over police girl as she flew out of the master suite, apologies tumbling from her trembling lips as she flew down the long hall in retreat.

"I can't get a tune out of my head once it gets stuck 'less I hum it, can I?", Seras tried to explain as a ivory-clad ashtray scathed her shoulder, her mistress's feral aim a promise of pain delivered.

The darkest shadows hung back amongst the puddled velvet drapery. Whipping her head to where she knew trouble had lain itself to watch the show, she bit out with cold fury.

"I'm sure you must have enjoyed that, Alucard."

Red eyes bloomed in the darkness, the shadow of a pale face suggested the rest of the lanky form, blood-red leather bound and tied. The vampire ducked his dark masses of trailing hair at her in nearly-perfect respect – only Integra knew her servant better than that; he was most amused. Damn him!

"And a very good night to you, Miss Hellsing.", Alucard bit out drolly and disappeared into the night.

All copywritten character and themes, musical or otherwise are the sole properties of their owners and no infringement is intended; no money is being made. "Freddie Freeloader" is found on the Miles Davis album, 'A Kind of Blue' - you are encouraged to own a copy, thanks.