Authors note: I have always wondered about the reference to Walter coming back from South America and this just jumped out of the muse bag and onto the page.

I'm not asking.

No matter where he had been, having lived in many places across the world, Walter C Dornez was an Englishman through and through and had thrown himself body and soul into the position of the Hellsing Butler. Unfortunately, during his long tenure at the manor, he had gained a reputation amongst some of the staff that although he was not a vampire – he wasn't human either. His unassailable calm in the face of chaos gave the impression that ice water ran in his veins and his ability to project menace and mayhem with a single smile had only added to the legend.

However, despite all that was said about him, Walter was very much a human being, with warm blood and all the emotions that came with it. And like all human beings, he had a vice or two – one of which he fully intended to indulge in; now that it was his evening off.

He dressed with great care and with one last satisfied look in the mirror; he donned his coat and let himself out of the back entrance, avoiding contact with all of the night staff. He had requested that one of the Jaguars be available to him and it was waiting at the stairs, keys in the ignition. He enjoyed the throaty rumble of the engine as he headed to the city proper. It started raining as he drove through the London streets, and he slowed to avoid splashing the pedestrians that were still going about their business, despite the weather. As he continued to drive deeper into the city however, the number of people on the sidewalks dwindled and soon no one was there to watch the maroon car pull smoothly up in front of a short set of steps, that led up to a set of doors with frosted glass panels.

The opaque glass however, had not impaired the view from inside, for as the car door swung open, a young man was already waiting with an umbrella while his partner took the keys to go and park the car elsewhere.

"Good evening Mr Dornez, such a pleasure to see you here tonight."

"Mr Dornez, we thought that you had abandoned us for somewhere else, it's been far too long."

"Walter you cad, I thought you'd never come back to deliver on your promise."

The doors led into a small antechamber where another young man was waiting to take hats, coats and wet umbrellas. As he was divested of his coat, he was surrounded by a small group of men and women all trying to talk to him at once. Before he could reply to any of the comments tossed his way – the group was scattered by the arrival of the manager, a short man that fairly quivered with pent up energy.

"Mr Dornez." His deep voice was at odds with his small frame. "I have your usual table waiting for you.

As he was escorted towards the back of the room, he passed a highly polished mahogany bar, small dinner tables decked in snowy white linen and a small but highly talented band. He cast his eyes across the room and was pleased to see that quite a few of his regular partners were there that evening. He nodded several times as he was greeted by the other patrons and exchanged small talk but never stood still, unwilling to be drawn in to join another group. He was there to amuse himself and no other this evening.

The manager led the way towards one of a few small padded booths tucked away in the back of the room, where one could sit and unobtrusively watch the floor. The table in the middle booth sported a 'reserved' marker, which he whisked away as he grumbled: "You've been gone for far too long."

"I'm afraid that it comes down to work before pleasure James." sighed Walter as he took off his jacket before sliding onto the padded seat. "And we have been so busy of late with the importing of fruit."

A disbelieving snort met that comment and he was left to settle himself comfortably. He knew that soon rich Columbian coffee would arrive and he promised himself that he would drink at least two cups before doing anything else.

He leaned back into the plush cushions as the coffee arrived and was poured. Inhaling the deep and smoky scent, he removed his gloves before lifting the cup. As the band struck up into another spicy number, he watched the couples come to the floor and lose themselves as they danced the tango.

It had been pure chance that he'd found the dance hall – something he believed had died out years ago. A meeting with one of his information brokers had brought him there and he had heard the band practising, music that he hadn't heard for years. He had always known the basics of ballroom dancing but during his time in South America, he had gained a new appreciation for it, along with some very smooth moves. Following his ears had led him inside, a meeting with the manager to apply for membership and Walter's desire to be able to dance again was filled.

He enjoyed his coffee as his eyes roved over the swirls of movement and colour before him. A few of his bolder partners approached him with their cards, which he marked with the dances of his choice, but only those after nine o'clock. Until then he intended to drink good coffee, enjoy conversation with James and let the music flow though him – washing away all of cares that had come with the last few weeks.

All the members there were appropriately dressed, men in sharp suits and silk shirts, the ladies in sweeping evening dresses, interspersed here and there with some of the more scandalously skimpy dance costumes. Walter himself was in a charcoal pinstripe with an ice blue shirt, waistcoat, no tie and no gloves.

Eventually it was time and he sought out his first partner – it was Cynthia, the one that had called him a cad when he had arrived. He vaguely remembered a promised Viennese waltz that clearly, had never happened. They took their positions and she smiled up at him.

"We really thought something awful had gone wrong since you stayed away for so long."

He returned the smile but offered no apologies for his absence. In fact, when he was at the club, he actually said very little. This had earned him a certain amount of curiosity since his dancing spoke volumes about him.

His bare hand on her backless gown allowed him to feel the smoothness of her skin, the small even bumps of her spine and the warmth of her body, which grew as they moved along with the music. He had received many a proposition from his partners and occasionally had taken one or two of the single ladies up on their offers – although he was scrupulously careful to ensure that he returned to the manor well before anyone could notice that he had stayed out. Doing the walk of shame with Alucard in the same building was asking for a lifetime of ribbing.

He moved through dance after dance, the foxtrot, the waltz, a tango or two and the salsa somewhere in between. Eventually his promised dances came to an end and he retired to his booth to order a fresh pot of coffee, and just enjoy the moment. But before he did that, there was something else that drew his attention. The booth next to him was occupied by a young lady that appeared to have no set partner, although many a man approached to request a dance. Curiously she turned them all down. Eventually the requests tapered off and then stopped coming altogether. As the last rejected partner stalked off, she sagged slightly into the cushions and Walter wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. As he sipped coffee, he watched her watching the dancers and came to the conclusion that she was dearly wanted to join in but there was something stopping her.

When James came around, he quietly asked about his neighbour.

"Ah yes, you have not had a chance to meet Sarah. Come, I'll introduce you."

He took Walter over to her table and made the appropriate introductions. Her reply was polite, but a little on the chilly side. She turned her attention back to the floor, clearly indicating that she had no wish to make further conversation.

The two men returned to their seats and James began speaking in a quiet voice.

"She was moving up the professional ladder. I think she would have gone far if she hadn't broken an ankle when she fell off chair while changing a light bulb."

Walter pulled a face, understanding what that would mean to her professional career plans. But her actions still puzzled him.

"I'm assuming that the rehabilitation went well as she still comes here."

"She comes but she won't dance. Nice girl, but she's just tormenting herself there. She's refused every man that has asked for a dance. To date, no one has ever come close to getting her near the floor."

James finished his coffee and gave a shrug: "Me, I think her confidence has gone. It's a shame, she was magnificent to see."

With that off-hand remark, James rose and made his way towards the bar, but not before quietly opening the side door. Walter had already come to the same conclusion as his friend and he decided that her self-flagellation had gone on long enough. He looked over the list of upcoming music and waited for a sedate waltz. Just before it was to start, he rose and stepped lightly over to the next booth.

"I apologise for disturbing you Miss Harper, but this simply will not do."

Sarah jerked in surprise at the sound of his voice and then realised that no matter how well spoken, she had just been admonished by a complete stranger. She had heard of him, everyone there knew of Walter C Dornez – the king of the floor, but she had passed him off as an urban legend, a draw card of the club. And yet, there he was; standing in front of her with an outstretched hand.

"I do not wish to dance." She replied sharply. "Thank you for the offer but no."

"I'm not asking." was the reply.

"Excuse me?"

"Please accompany me to the courtyard outside? You will be perfectly safe."

Sarah couldn't decide if she had a madman on her hands or a once in a lifetime opportunity. Deciding that it was close enough for someone to hear her scream if something was up, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her outside.

The club had converted the small space between the back of its building and the one next to them, into a small courtyard. It had stopped raining and was warmly lit from the windows surrounding it, the light glittering on the wet stone.

Walter put himself and Sarah into starting position just as the band struck up with the waltz that he had chosen.

"Trust me."

He swept into the first movement and she instinctively followed, her muscle memory and conditioned reflexes allowing her to move with him. Before long, her worries about falling were gone and she was once again lost in the world of music and movement that was her passion in life.

As the music ended, Walter stepped back and gave her a small bow.

"Good evening Miss Harper."

He left her standing there as he vanished back inside, his movements too fast for her to react to. By the time she followed, his table was clear and his jacket gone. She scanned the room for him but found no trace. As she stood there looking, one of her rejected partners came up for one last try.

"May I have this dance?"

The following day a large arrangement of white roses was delivered to the Hellsing manor, the accompanying card written simply with the words: Thank you Mr Dornez. Walter slipped the card into his pocket and took the arrangement through to the dining room where Sir Integra could enjoy their fragrance. As he carried it, Alucard stepped through the wall and spoke in a tone laced with suggestion.

"An admirer at your age, who would have guessed..."

He was laughing as he vanished through the floor and Walter just rolled his eyes and sighed.