Wednesday, 20 September 2000

I reached for the cigarettes. There was only one left in the packet. I threw it on the empty fire… and watched it burn.

Seras stared into the fireplace, watching the orange flames dance over the crackling wood. Its rosy warmth brought a flush to her cheeks; if not for her scarlet irises, she might have been human. A vibrant voice pierced the comfortable silence.

"Under the direction of Norman MacDonnell,ESCAPEhas brought you "The Birds" by Daphne du Maurier, specially adapted for radio by Robert Ryf, starring Ben Wright with Virginia Gregg. Featured in the cast were John Deh—"

Walter turned the radio's antique knob, cutting the credits mid-sentence. Seras stretched her arms high over her head, spine cracking as she moved for the first time in a half hour. It had become a tradition of hers to join Walter in the sitting room on Wednesday nights, listening attentively to the weekly ESCAPE thriller on the oldies station. The butler enjoyed being reminded of his far-off youth and while the programs were admittedly outdated, it was the closest thing to television that Seras could find in Hellsing manor.

More importantly, it was a time specially dedicated to set aside the rigors of daily life. Seras could enjoy a scant thirty minutes curled before a warm fire, with Walter at her side in his favorite upholstered chair. Together they lamented Madeline's fate in "The Fall of the House of Usher", and bit their nails while listening to Rainsford's adventures in "The Most Dangerous Game". It didn't matter that they'd both heard the stories at least a thousand times before. The radio program was something she shared with Walter, and only Walter; it was their time, and no one else was allowed to intrude upon it.

If she was entirely honest, Wednesday nights were what she looked forward to most each week. Night after night she worked relentlessly, either on missions with her troop or suffering under her master's disciplinarian tutelage. Sheearned this reprieve. Furthermore, she enjoyed the quality time she spent with Walter, who took care of her without asking for anything in return. Maybe everyone else in the manor thought a spare glance and the occasional word of thanks was enough, but not her! Without his kindness and patience, there was no way she'd have survived the first week at Hellsing, much less the first year.

Between her newly acquired vampirism, the Valentine Brother's invasion, the perils of Paladin Anderson, and the whole Incognito disaster… well, her head was swimming enough without worrying about who was doing her laundry and bringing her fresh blood each night. And with Sir Integra imprisoned through the new year, there was no one around to stop Alucard from training her to within an inch of her unlife. She was grateful to have one friend, even if that friend was a butler more than twice her age.

"No mission tonight, Walter?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid." Walter tilted his head thoughtfully. "All quiet on the home front," he mused. "Perhaps we're finally seeing the end of these manufactured vampires."

"Maybe." Seras frowned as she pulled herself from the rug. "Even so…." Tonight marked the second week in a row without a mission. She'd never been this inactive before, even during those first tumultuous days as a newbie vampire. While a drop in civilian attacks was most certainly welcome, she was starting to get a little antsy—never a good sign. If she was growing bored, that meant her master was definitely bored. She didn't need to be told that a stir-crazy Alucard wasn't good for anyone.

Seras absently bid Walter a pleasant evening, chewing on a thumbnail through her glove as she wandered through the main foyer. She wasn't exactly looking forward to another night thirty metres below ground level, but neither was she planning to find trouble on what was an otherwise peaceful night.

The end of manufactured vampires… It was a hard concept to wrap her mind around. The chipped hellions had been a constant thorn in the Hellsing organizations side for much of the past year; they cropped up in bunches here and there, much to the annoyance of everyone involved. While they had the power to cause major destruction, their inexperience and foolhardy nature often proved to be their own undoing. Usually they were only able to cause one, maybe two deaths before being found and dispatched. Alucard was right in dubbing them the "teenage punks" of the vampire world.

As she passed the ten metre mark, the hair on her neck rose in warning.Think of the devil and he will appear, I suppose.Seras didn't falter, continuing past the laboratories and breaking a quick left before heading down the next flight of stairs. Now was as good a time as any to work on some hands-on training.

Her eyes stayed locked on her boots, even as her sixth sense branched into the air around her. It was only in the last month or so that she'd perfected the ability to feel her surroundings. Before, she had to actively think about what she was doing; now, it came as easily and naturally as breathing. After a long, pensive moment, she stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at the cement wall to her right.

"I see you," she gloated, pointing at the third brick from the ceiling. Alucard emerged from the spot, lips quirked with a rare expression of satisfaction.

"Very good," he nodded. "Much faster than before. But," he added smoothly, "you're still too slow. I could have easily killed you, if I'd wanted to."

"I'll keep that in mind." Seras set her jaw, determined to take the comment in stride. With a man like Alucard as her teacher, it was almost expected that every ounce of praise came gift-wrapped in his disapproval.

"Will you?" He didn't seem to expect an answer. After a moment of terse silence, she offered a polite, deferential nod before continuing on her way. Fully expecting him to melt back into the brickwork, she nearly jumped in shock when he fell into step beside her.Oh no, she silently cursed.He's bored.

"Where were you, anyway?" he asked. To the untrained ear, his tone could have easily been mistaken for conversational. Seras bristled, eyes locked on the far wall as she fought to keep a steady, even pace. If she showed that she was at all startled or confused, it would only serve to amuse him. "Your mind was elsewhere this evening, Police Girl."

"I was… with Walter," she replied, tipping one shoulder in a halfway shrug. Her voice wavered slightly and she cleared her throat, sniffing once for good measure. The best option was to feign indifference, with the hopes that he would leave sooner rather than later. Alucard was a hard one to read, even on the best of nights; it was nearly impossible to know whether or not he was in jest or earnest. Seras hated being his center of attention, especially when it came with the risk of being mocked.

"Hmm." They reached the door to her bedroom, where she once again tried to dismiss herself with a nod and somewhat nervous chuckle. Alucard never broke stride, waving her along with one flick of a gloved wrist. Stunned, she crept alongside him as they descended even further. The buzz of human activity from the upper floors was muffled, then eventually silenced by the thick concrete. Ancient flickering bulbs were the sole source of light, strung too far apart on either side of the hallway to be comfortable.

No one knows I'm down here….Her dead heart became a thick lump at the base of her throat.

"Scared?" Seras shook her head quickly, taking two steps for every one of his own. She didn't need to look at him to feel the sharp, wet smile being directed at her.

It was true that the lower basement was eerie; the dim lighting and dancing shadows did little to help. The air was musty with dust, decay and something she couldn't put a name to. She knew the winding, labyrinthine corridors that made up the bowels of the manor were full of the Hellsing family's secrets, but not once had she ever thought to venture down and uncover them. For all she cared, whatever resided down here in the musty dark could bloody well stay secret.

But Seras also knew that wasn't what he meant. The real question behind the singular word had been scared… of me? She wasn't, although that in itself was a stupid decision. That particular lapse of judgment would most likely be her death someday—she was sure of it. Even so, she couldn't help it. He was many things: powerful, dangerous, even deadly. He was a hard taskmaster, especially when it came to training. But something tempered his ruthlessness, at least where she was concerned.

"Hm." Seras jolted, wondering if he was keeping a watchful eye on her thoughts. That was just another one of the many reasons she didn't like being alone with him for more than a passing moment. With no one around to distract him, he was apt to find some fault in her that might have otherwise been overlooked.

"You've not yet visited my chambers, have you?" The question, spoken in a pensive drawl, took her by surprise. She wasn't sure how to respond—or even what he meant by it. Was he unable to remember who he invited to his room? He can't have that many visitors, can he?Or worse: did he suspect her of being invasive, sneaking around behind his back? I'd never!

"No-o-o…." Seras trailed off uncertainly, keeping a wary gaze on him through her bangs as they rounded a corner. The shorter adjacent corridor ended at a solid metal door. She could see faded streaks along several parts of the corrugated metal; it looked as though someone had taken great pains to scour the metal, but was unable to remove the entire stain. She suppressed a shudder, hoping it was nothing more than old paint.

"Well." He leveled another sharp grin at her, this one no less cryptic than the last. With a snap of his fingers, the door swung inward with a rusty creak. "Come in," he offered, gesturing cordially for her to proceed him into the room. Seras squinted, trying to pick out anything familiar in the darkness; even with her vampiric vision, the shadows were too thick to see much beyond the door's narrow rectangle of light.

"Um…." She blanched, the edges of her anxious smile wavering. "I'm not… that is, I—!" Her halfhearted attempts at an excuse sputtered into shocked silence when his palm found a resting place between her shoulder blades.

It was the warmth that startled her. Not many in the manor found a ready excuse to touch her; those that dared found her to be quite literally as cold as the grave. Never before had it occurred to her that Alucard would be the same in that regard, that his touch would feel normal when compared to the living's feverish heat. The weight of his hand was—not intimate, strictly speaking. But there was a quality, a feeling to it that she had no real name for.

Unperturbed, he lightly pushed her ahead of him as he walked through the door. Seras stumbled over the threshold, once again caught unawares; had she not known better, she might have mistaken the gesture for something teasing. There were many adjectives she used to describe Alucard: cruel, mocking, cocksure. Playful didn't make the top fifty. And yet… what else could she call it?

I am awake Now aren't i? There was no better explanation for this bewildering change of attitude, so completely out of character from her mental picture of Alucard.Then again,she admitted to herself, I've barely known him a year. That was nowhere near enough time to form a fair summation of his character, especially when she took pains to avoid him and his relentless censure.

Blinking rapidly, she tried in vain to adjust her to the room's preternatural darkness. Another snap of Alucard's fingers brought a pale flood of moonlight; craning her neck, she saw the basement's dusty rafters and, high above them, the dim outline of several small windows. With the addition of light, her vision quickly adjusted. The room was surprisingly well lit, for being so far belowground. On a clear night, it would have been as bright as midday sunshine.

She could see the milky glass of unused lightbulbs, strung in twin pairs along the rafters in a similar way to the those in the corridor. Seras stared at them thoughtfully. She'd assumed that Alucard kept his rooms dark on purpose, either to frighten off any would-be visitors or to fit his own twisted sense of design. But could the reality be something far simpler? Was it that he merely disliked electricity?

That answer wouldn't have surprised her in the slightest. Since becoming a vampire, she had noticed that the glare of manufactured light was often harsh on her sensitive eyes. Upstairs, the incessant buzz of countless filaments was a near-constant drone in the back of her ears. Down here, far from the lights and activity, all was blissful silence. When compared to the fizzling whine of old bulbs, there was no doubt in her mind as to why moonlight would be the preferred option.

Now that she could see, Seras peered about the room as subtly as possible. There was a natural curiosity to see how he lived; perhaps studying the room and furniture could give her a better glimpse of the man himself? Unfortunately for her it was sparsely furnished, with no clutter to be had. It seemed that Alucard was uninterested in interior design, keeping only what he needed for daily use.

In the room's direct center was a single highbacked armchair, its gilded edges tarnished with age. At the chair's left side sat a matching piece of furniture. It appeared at first glance to be a stool, but a second look proved it to be a very small side table. A bottle of wine sat upon its faded red surface alongside two glasses, one upturned. A battered trunk sat forgotten in the corner, covered in at least two inches of dust. His coffin seemed to be the only thing in the room that was properly maintained, its ebony lid polished to a midnight sheen.

Alucard passed her without a word, shrugging off his long coat and removing his hat. They melted into shadows before reaching the floor, puddling in an oozing pool before fading from sight. They weren't gone, however; she could see more of his shadows out of the corner of her eye, creeping up the walls towards the rafters.

What do I do? Seras stood awkwardly, trying her hardest not to fidget. Alucard wouldn't have brought her down here for nothing. There had to be an ulterior motive, but… what? She couldn't think of anything she'd done to merit a punishment, or even a scolding. And it was hard to believe that he'd choose her for company over Walter or Sir Integra—although incarceration made the latter more difficult to reach.

Alucard sat in the chair with a sigh, removing his glasses and tossing them carelessly onto the table. He ran one weary hand through his bangs, pushing them out of his eyes before pinning her with a sharp stare, mouth drawn in a pensive frown. She stared back, eyes wide and hands locked behind her back as she waited for him to make a move.

Without warning, he waved his hand and the room fairly shook. Shadows swirled and a resounding thud rattled her teeth as the old trunk leapt from the corner. It came to a skidding halt a few feet from the chair, its contents rattling in protest before all was quiet once more. Seras coughed, waving decades of dust away from her face.

"Sit."

"O-oh." She gingerly dusted off the trunk lid, wincing as her glove turned black with dirt. Perching on the edge of the lid, she clasped her hands in her lap and waited for any further instruction. Alucard continued his silent scrutiny, his hand rubbing idly over his jaw as he leaned on his left arm.Is he left-handed? She'd never noticed it before, but the table was to his left and he did appear to be favoring that side of his body.

In fact… there were a lot of things she'd never noticed about him. Seras realized quite suddenly that she'd never seen him without the bulky outwear; now that it was gone, she could really take a good look at him. He was trim, lean but not thin, and surprisingly well-kempt for a man who let his hair hang in his eyes—not that she was any better. His waistcoat was neatly tucked into his pants, and the sleeves of his white shirt looked crisp and ironed. Were they shadows too? Did his clothing look presentable only because he willed it to be so?

Alucard noticed her unabashed gawking and arched a brow, drawing her attention to his face. He'd become a vampire in middle age; there was no doubting that, even when his eyes were hidden behind the intricate glasses. Now that they were gone, she realized that he wasn't as old as she'd first thought. He couldn't have been over fifty-five, if not younger. But it seemed rude to ask his age, and she was sure she wouldn't get a straight forward answer.

Their eyes met and she wondered at the intensity of his gaze. What on earth was he looking at? Surely her face wasn't that interesting! She blinked first, offering a tiny grin that showed the corner of one dainty fang. Beyond his earlier order, neither of them had said a word. Was he waiting on her to speak first? After all, she was a guest in his… home? Dungeon? Nevertheless, the polite thing would be to make conversation. But what was she supposed to say? It was beyond her means to find a suitable compliment for his ancient, dusty furniture.

Alucard roused himself with a little shake, making a sound in his throat as though he'd forgotten something. Before she could ask, he took the downturned glass from the table; after looking it over appraisingly, he filled it halfway with wine. He offered it to her without a word, waiting until she'd hesitantly accepted before pouring himself a glass as well.

Is he… is he trying to be a host? Seras was torn between incredulous confusion and something more akin to concern; the first was for the circumstances she found herself in, the latter for her own sanity. Surely… surely this couldn't be happening?!Why me?! The upstairs, normal version of Alucard was already enough to make her tense. This new side of him frankly baffled her.

It didn't help that she felt different somehow, as though she now had more power— no, more authority. By allowing her to be his guest, to sit in his room and share a glass of wine as if… as if they were old friends or something…. It felt as though he was closing the gap between the rank of master and… and whatever it was he considered her. Pupil? Progeny? Nuisance, more like.

Then again, who was she to refuse? She couldn't afford to let her guard down—there had to be some extrinsic reason for all this fuss—but it was nice to be treated as a person, rather than a servant or a soldier.And it's not like I hate him, she added to herself, taking a sip of the wine. Its rich flavor spread over her tongue, warm and spiced with something like cinnamon. After a year of drinking blood à la carte, it was a nice change of pace.I just don't understand him.

"My master," Alucard said abruptly. Seras jumped, nearly spilling the wine from her glass. Had he been reading her thoughts again?! The least he could do was knock before barging into her head! If her thoughts had angered him, he made no mention of it. Still, she dared not mentally scold him for too long, just in case he was still listening—if he'd indeed been listening at all.

"My master," he said again, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a leisurely sip, "inquires about you. It seems that my progress reports aren't thorough enough for her liking. She wants to know if you're…happy."

"Hap—is that all?!" She couldn't stop the laugh that tumbled out with the words. "You could've asked me that earlier, you know. It would have saved me the trouble of coming down here."

"I could have," he agreed coldly. "But I did not." She snapped her lips together, blushing under the full force of his glare. Good going, Seras—of all the people to laugh at! It's always out of the frying pan and into the fire with you.

How was she supposed to answer a question like that? She was comfortable here, and even content at times. She was grateful of the freedom Sir Integra supplied her with, allowing her to go to town whenever she needed without special permission. The soldiers trusted her, and her troop held her in high esteem. But did that equal happiness?

"You haven't answered, Police Girl."

"Well—" She sighed, sensing his growing impatience. "I'm no worse off than anyone else here, if that counts for something." This earned her the ghost of a smile. She tried to think of a more concrete answer for him and, finding none, took another drink of wine. Maybe it'll loosen me up.

"Do you often eat up Walter's free time?" he asked, crossing his legs. "He doesn't have much of it left." She couldn't tell if he was referring to Walter's age, or the fact that Sir Integra was due to be released from her cell in a matter of months.

"I try not to." She swallowed too hard and choked, smothering a cough behind clenched lips. Not wanting to appear dodgy, she added, "It's only one night a week, after all. I don't think he could handle much more than that!"

"One night a week, is it?" His voice dropped to a smooth drawl. For anyone else, the shift in tone would have been welcome; with him, it raised the hair on her arms. She shivered, clutching the stem of her glass tightly. "Testing his stamina, are we?" What's that supposed to mean? She felt the awkward tension return, but this time there was something darker crackling in the empty space between them. Oh, hell—what did I do now?

"I guess?" she tried, hoping that a neutral answer would pacify him. "I don't—" Without warning, her vision seared white. A sharp pain bored a hole into the side of her skull, pressing down as though claws were trying to dig into her brain. It was all she could do to remain upright on the trunk. Seras clapped a hand to her head, teeth clenched against the feeling until it passed.

When she was able to think properly again, she found Alucard sitting upright in his chair. His fingers clutched the ends of the chair arms, tight enough that his knuckles were outlined through the fabric of his gloves. Self-preservation had never been her strong suit, but in the span of a single moment it was thrown aside in favor of anger. It no longer mattered that he was her master, a vampire who could snap any bone in her body faster than she could blink.

"What the hell was that for?! I was just answering your question—augh…." She rubbed her poor aching head, still blinking stars from her eyes.

"…again." It seemed her ears hadn't stopped ringing, either. She shook her head, scrunching her nose against the wave of dizziness that immediately followed.

"What?"

"You are not to see Walter again."

"And just how am I supposed to do that? We all live in the same house, you know." Alucard growled, the sound deathly quiet in the room. Her motionless heart managed to skip a beat at the sound, eyes widening as she remembered a little too late just who she was dealing with.You just had to have a clever response, didn't you! She braced herself, knowing that it was too late to go back now. She'd been at Hellsing long enough to know that showing weakness would only make things worse for her in the end.

"A-anyway," she added, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "Walter's my friend."

"So you care for him."

"Of course? What kind… of…." Seras faltered, gulping as his eyes narrowed. Even if she didn't understand the reason why, it was clear she'd given a wrong answer. He stood, looming over her with a menacing snarl. It was all she could do not to cower in the face of his inexplicable fury. "Master Alucard?" she asked, hopeful that the added formality would calm him.

"You agreed to come with me."

"Huh? What?" What was he talking about? Agreed? When? Seras stood as well, blindly groping behind her for the trunk lid so that she could put down her wineglass. Would it be possible to maneuver the trunk between them before he struck? Not that it would do much to stop him,she sighed mentally. She looked for another, more plausible escape route, wondering if it was even worth the effort to try.

"Police Girl!"

"What!?" She snapped her attention back to him, bristling slightly as her own anger sparked to life. "I'm sorry, but you're not making any sense! What are you talking about?" Sarcasm put a sharp edge to her words. Everyone had a vice; hers, unfortunately, happened to be impudence.

"One year ago," he spat. "You agreed to come with me."

"I—what are you—wait." She paused, trying to place his words in a proper context. "Do you mean… in the cathedral?" It was hard to remember exactly what was said on that fateful night; her memories, already fuzzy with adrenaline, had been tainted further by the mind-numbing experience that was her death.

"What else would I mean?"

"How should I—" She stopped again, not willing to press too much of her luck at once. His patience wasn't endless—she wasn't delusional enough to believe anything else. "Alright, yes. I did agree… to let you drink my blood."

"You remember this, and yet you still choose—" He broke off, his mood darkening further. The shadows along the walls wriggled to life, eager for the promise of bloodshed. Before she could react, he lunged for her.

Seras gasped, ducking as her boots slid across the stone floor. There was no way she could avoid him completely; her only objective was getting as much of her body out of his way as possible. She was more surprised that she'd seen the attack coming. Only a few months before, he would have had her before she could blink.Guess I really am improving.His long fingers wrapped around her wrist in a punishing grip that brought unwanted tears to her eyes.

"Let go!" The strength in her voice startled her. She'd never had much of a problem talking back to Alucard, but neither had she openly defied him. Then again, he'd never put his hands on her. Years of police self defense training had left her with the instincts needed to break out of any hold; he might have been a vampire, but his hands were human. Twisting her wrist, she made a fist and used a simple move to slip free.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, stumbling back until there was a good six feet of space between their bodies. Using distance to her advantage was one of the first things she'd learned on the force. To her astonishment, Alucard made no attempt to grab her again. He didn't need to; his presence alone froze her to the spot, aura crackling with dark energy.

"You are a servant vampire." He stood tall before her, a statue outlined in moonlight. "Don't forget that you chose this. Twice." The memory played back in her mind: the way he knelt before her after the fight with Paladin Anderson, blood dripping from the bayonet gash in his arm. Drink my blood. Only then will you be free of your servitude to me. She had refused him then, and no more had been said about it. Until now.

"Yes." Her vampiric side was desperate for her to yield. But that was only side of her. No matter what form she took—human, vampire, whatever—she was still Seras Victoria. The world saw a helpless kitten, but she'd proven time and time again that she could take care of herself. She was the orphan girl who'd fought through life with her head held high; she was the one who'd followed her father's footsteps to the police force, who'd worked her way up the ranks to D-11 using wits and willpower.

"Yes," she repeated, raising her eyes to his. She could feel the old stubborn streak hardening her eyes, determination squaring her shoulders against inevitable defeat. "I am a servant… not a slave. You said that I chose this—you're right. I have the ability to choose for myself, and no one will steal that from me." Not even you, Master Alucard.

"Is that so?" he drawled, clearly unamused with her little display of courage. She was undeterred, taking a deep breath before nodding.

"It is. And—" She steeled her nerve before delivering the final blow. "And if you were expecting something different, then… then… then you should have twice before biting me!" With that, she fled the room. There was, of course, a difference between running away and withdrawing from battle. A tactical retreat was nothing to be ashamed of, when it meant living to fight another day.

The dim lights in the corridor blurred as she sped past, sliding around the corner on the heel of her boot and racing towards the stairs that led to the upper basement levels. It was entirely possible that he would hunt her down, or have his hellhounds do so for him. If she was dragged back to the dungeons and left to the mercy of an infuriated master, well… so be it. But until then, she would go to the only place she deemed appropriate.

Seras reached her bedroom and threw open the door. The force of her arm nearly knocked it from the reinforced hinges; it let out a painful metallic screech, the bolts rattling as it slammed hard enough against the wall to crack the stone. She paused long enough to shut it more gently, making sure the lock was in place before sinking to the cool floor beneath her shaking knees.

It was hard to be pumped full of adrenaline without a heart to race, or blood to sing in her ears. She took pains to calm herself, pressing her forehead against the heels of her palms until her panting slowed and her limbs settled. Then, removing her boots, she crawled onto the bed and lay upside down, her stockinged feet resting on the pillow.

"That could have went better," she muttered to herself, staring at the coffin lid high above her. "Then again, I guess it could have went worse. Stupid… vampire." She wasn't entirely sure if she meant Alucard, or herself, or perhaps a little of both.

Despite the fact that they could spell her doom, she felt no regret for her words. Her fear in the moment was only that—momentary. What she said had been spoken from the heart, and the thought of pain wasn't enough to want to take them back. If he'd wanted a perfectly pliant slave, he should have taken the time to know her before draining her blood.

"And anyway," she grumbled, running a hand through her sweaty bangs, "I shot you, didn't I?" That was one thing she remembered with startling clarity. In the woods surrounding Cheddar, beneath the merciless full moon, she'd shot him without hesitation. He had laughed when she called him inhuman; he'd even teased her about it. Why? Would you have shot me if I was? How could he ever expect her to bow in perfect obedience, when their first meeting had been an act of defiance?

"I don't recall saying you could leave." Alucard's voice rang out in her bedroom, the candles on her table flickering in a burst of wind. She watched, upside down, as he stepped through the wall. His hat had been left behind, but he once again wore the coat and glasses. Hands in his pockets, he stood idly before her bed with a perplexed frown.

"I thought vampires couldn't enter a room unless they were invited. You could at least knock," she pointed out, not bothering to hide her frustration. She sat up when he moved closer, drawing her knees protectively to her chest. "What is it now?"

"We weren't finished." He cocked his head at her. "If you regret the decision you made on that night—"

"I never said I regretted it." It was hard to read his expression when he hid behind polarized lenses. Was that why he wore them? To give himself an advantage?

"You said that I should have thought twice before turning you."

"Yes…if you wanted a slave. I'm sorry," she said flippantly, "but I'm a vampire with free will."

"Then why refuse to drink?" He shook back his sleeve, looking down at his arm. It was, of course, smooth and spotless, an expanse of creamy skin between the white of his glove and the crimson of his sleeve. "It was yours for the taking, and you refused."

"Because it was too early! I'd been a vampire for—what, three months? Four? I had no idea what I was doing, I didn't know the first thing about what I'd become, and you were acting as though I could just—" She broke off, shaking her head. For a man who'd lived countless lifetimes, how could he be so… so dense?! "It doesn't matter now, what I did back then. And before you say anything: I don't regret that, either."

"If I offered again, tonight—would you?" Seras leveled her brows, gracing him with her best scathing glare.

"If you're in that much of a hurry to be rid of me, it shouldn't matter what I do in my spare time."

"Do you want to be free or not?!" When she made no answer, his mask slipped; his lips twitched, parting just enough to show a glint of teeth. He looked… lost, if such a word could be used to describe someone like him. "I don't understand you, Police Girl."

"That makes two of us."

"You—" He gave her a strange look. "Hmm." Without another word, he melted into the air and disappeared.

"That's it, then?" There was no answer, physical or telepathic, to her question. "Ugh!" Stomping her heel against the mattress in annoyance, Seras flung herself facedown onto her pillow. "Christ." She surfaced long enough to find the remote to her lid, slapping her palm against the button and burrowing down into the pleasant dark. Walter would be in to collect her dinner pail before the candles could burn down.

"Bonehead," she mumbled into the pillows soft fabric, plucking at a stray thread as she thought. She was no closer to figuring her master out than when she'd started. "What was that even about, then?" As she drifted into a doze, her last coherent thought was mystifying. Thinking it was her desire, he'd offered her a way out of the bond they shared. In his mind, she must have regretted her choice to stay at his side.

She'd never thought to ask if he felt the same way.