"But Sir!" Seras' voice rang out as Walter walked into the room with Integra's tea tray.
"No way in hell, Officer Victoria." Integra said, "And that is final."
Walter walked to Integra's side and set the tray on her desk. There were various small bottles filled with different colored paints. They looked hauntingly familiar for all of a moment before Walter recognized them. Nail polish.
"What seems to be the problem, Sir Integra?" He asked, watching her glare at her subordinate across the large desk. Seras seemed crushed. Integra was obviously more interested in her tea than answering. A sure sign that someone had crossed that line and was only a matter of seconds from being shot in the skull.
"Sir won't let me paint her nails! And she has such pretty fingernails..." Seras' eyes fell to Integra's hands almost longingly. Walter tried to remember a single time that she had painted her nails and he couldn't think of a single instance that her nails were anything other than natural.
"If I may be so bold, Sir, it isn't as if a French Manicure would kill you, and it would be entirely unnoticeable. It would also placate Officer Victoria here." The last was said quietly and in a tone that said plainly that it was none of Seras' business and she shouldn't listen. She obediently pouted and picked at the label on a bottle of daring red polish dejectedly.
Integra glared at the girl over her cup as Walter left the room quietly.
He returned for the tray later and heard laughter coming from Integra's office. He looked into the open doorway without a sound to see the two women laughing and painting away. Seras' nails were a surprisingly subtle peach that didn't draw much attention and Integra's were currently being covered with another clear coat to protect the white strip at the ends of her perfectly oval fingernails. Walter smiled and went back to the kitchen.
The tea tray could wait.