Seras was deployed that evening, instructed to roam the school and stay out of sight while Alucard checked the local apartment complexes – where a minute number of school staff could be found. However, while Seras did "roam the school," she concentrated her efforts within the girl dormitory, where she sought out Francine, the Junior girl who'd been "dumped" by the school counselor.
The floors were organized by grade-level (though the rule had originally been suspended for the 'special' Hellsing siblings), so Seras "roamed" the third floor, scanning the doors in the hopes that Francine was among those who had decorated a little nameplate to hang on the outside of her door – and praying that there was only one Francine among the Junior class.
Seras' hopes and prayers seemed to have conquered the laws of probability, as both proved to be true. The depressed Francine, humiliated by the rumors and the more biting gossip that had flourished in the Valentine's Day aftermath, was in her room when Seras took a breath, tried to compose herself and elevate her warm and friendly demeanor – and knocked lightly (pretending not to hear the timidity that emanated from the weak and hurried taps). The fledgling maintained a stiff smile, beaming (as she felt) 'stupidly' at the two names that were drawn in Sharpe over the cheap wood of two marker-stained plaques – about to read the cursive letters when they were pulled away.
An Indian girl with hair that was only approximately five to six inches shorter than Sir Integra's, though dark rather than blonde and predominantly straight rather than wavy, opened the door cautiously. Suspicious stress-ringed eyes looked up at Seras, while the Indian girl took a prolonged and awkward 34 seconds to give the customary: "Hello." (Seemingly against her will, but pulled out by social law, like extracting a row of rotting teeth… with six inch roots.) Seras winced at the tone, and lost all sense of what she was doing – the circumstances, they… just so strange, right now. She really didn't want to disturb the girl…
Open mouthed, and wordlessly gaping like a mute goldfish, the blonde Police Girl struggled to find her voice. Finally she croaked out something resembling a: "…Hyehh, minerms Ses..."
Coughing violently into her fist, to 'subtly' relax her constricted throat, Seras took a composing breath, tried to put on her biggest smile, and began again: "Hi!" (Nailed it!) "My name's Seras, and… And are- … but- by any chance- um…" (Ohhhh noddles…) she went on – swallowing, "-Francine, right?" (... That was awful.) The friendly smile skated away like melting butter on a twirling plate, puddling into generic embarrassment and anxiety that spread outwards, a fanning blush gliding to the edges of her face – which was stuck somewhere between a wince and a nervous laugh. Her ears burned as heat collected at either side of her soft buttery-yellow head.
At least my Master isn't here. At least my Master isn't here- she repeated mentally, seeking comfort from some realm of optimism that was still open to her.
Instead of registering pity, or responding with encouraging humor or reciprocal embarrassment, the Indian girl's (already displeased) expression soured. The girl glared at Seras with hard brown eyes. Tightly pursed lips postponed her response, but only momentarily.
"No."
Oddly more accustomed to hostile reactions, Seras persevered, clasping her hands and knitting and unknitting her jittery fingers. "Is she here-" she swallowed for the millionth time, "-by any chance?"
The Indian girl's hostility grew cryptic as her eyes notably twitched. But she was silent.
"I'm sorry," licking her lips, Seras freed her hands and worried a lock of hair beside her ear while she backtracked, staring into the stubble-like carpet – doing nothing to impress or gain the girl's trust, "it's just, um, well if she is who I think she is- I mean. If this whole…thing …with the well… thing on Valentine's Day, with what happened… I, uh-"
"I'm sorry," a bitter scowl interrupted, raising the hair on the back of Seras' neck as she couldn't bear to look the girl in the eye. The Indian girl's tone shoved lances of righteous logic and reason into Seras' guilt, causing it to tear open and wash over her, pouring unceasingly as the voice drew on for centuries crammed into stifling seconds: "But Francine isn't here for your amusement, nor for the amusement of anyone else that goes to this school. It's none of your business to know what she does in her own time - it's not up to you to get involved. Please… leave us alone."
Though pained, Seras forced herself to look up. She saw the girl shake her head, each motion making Seras cringe as she heard the unspoken words behind them: 'You're not helping anyone. You're not even trying to help. You selfish people make things so much worse. …You selfish girl.'
Stung by the unsaid accusations, Seras chewed her lip with a furrowed brow that begged for a scrap of compassion. But seeing none, she panicked and smacked her hand onto the door – fearing it was about to be shut in her face. "But- but it's not like that. I promise. It's not like that at all." I can help you! I can! Please! I'm sorry!
A near hiss snapped back at Seras' genuine tone: "You're the fifth person to come around asking about something that's none of your business. Please, do us a favor and leave. I'm going to bed now-" Provoked by Seras' decision to hold the door – (her door, the door to her room! –what gives her the right!) – she attempted to slam it shut.
But the door was utterly immobile.
Pushing to the extent that she had to suppress a grunt, the teenage girl was alarmed to find that, without the strange blonde even needing to show some sign of effort or hidden strain, the door was as stationary as it might've been should it have suddenly sprouted roots that'd buried themselves deep into the floor. But she assumed Seras had put her foot on the other side of the door and wedged it in place.
Seras was unaware of all this, even of the attempt to close the door, as the 'tiny' push had fallen under the threshold of her undead perceptions. "I'm really sorry about bothering you on a school night, I really am, but I needto talk to-"
Brown eyes squinted at the stupid attempt the strange blonde had made to 'apologize,' just so she could prolong her stay.
"- but, well, my… my sister." Seras, having mustered the strength to utter the word, felt a little light headed and had to pause – thankful to use the door to keep herself from swaying on her weakened knees. Again Seras could not register the attempt the girl made to shut the door. The fledgling vampire groped for the English language, still reeling with the feat she had just accomplished – my Master… my sister… my- my Master … as- as my sister!- "Um, uh she- well she's-"
"Please! Just GO! Go! Leave us alone! For god's sake, why can't you think of anyone but yourself! My… God! … You people! I'm just so-" her hands spasmed, clenching and opening before her as they shook, "-just so sick… of ALL of you! None of you can control yourselves for a minute, and… and- and THINK!" Her pitch peaked, spiking sharply like a thrust spear point, "–To think about what it's like!" The shockwave that rode on the back of this explosion of compressed impatience, loathing, and withheld tears of frustration, slammed into Seras with a wall of scorching rage. It snapped her dried mouth shut, nearly biting the tip of her tongue, while in her mind she was thrown back by the glower, the anger – the consequences for having disturbed the occupant(s) of the room for too long.
Frantic, Seras stumbled upon a probable approach to achieving her goal. The sudden enlightenment caught hold of her flailing nerves, though only gradually – gathering them up as she spoke, first quickly and then at an increasingly more casual, or at least "normal," pace. "Francine doesn't really remember much about what happened on Saturday, right?"
There was quiet. Then the sound of bed sheets rustling, and someone walking up to the door, still hidden behind it and her roommate.
"My sister knows a bit about what happened. Well, she- she saw the teacher with the, um, counselor… as they… left… the math and sciences building."
The Indian roommate eyed Seras, sniffling though tearless, and then her face turned away in response to the girl who remained hidden – she appeared to be listening to something, a whisper – at least, Seras hoped that was the case. Then the large brown eyes returned, slightly more hospitable, though the girl was still frowning and heavily guarded. She sniffed as she spoke through a thickened voice, "Why isn't your sister here to talk to Francine, then? What've you got to do with this?" She sniffed again, and now used the over-sized sleeve of a turquoise turtleneck to rub at her face, absorbing any potential moisture before it might be spotted.
Not having a ready answer, Seras took her hand from the door, rubbing her fingers as though they were cold. The door was not shut as she was allowed to think. "Well… my sister is Alucard-"
There was a sound, mouse-like, behind the door. The Indian girl, though mute, had reacted as well, straightening as her vertebrae fell into line, out of their natural curves, when the name was recognized. It made her unconditionally cagey, distrust billowing off of her like steam – clouding her more sociable character (which Seras had yet to really see anyway). Alucard was someone neither of the roommates wanted anything to do with. The Indian girl sniffed at the blonde with wide, alarmed eyes – which, for Seras, uncomfortably resembled the girl's past expression of fury.
Seras continued, briefly distracted by the response her Master's name had inspired. Finding her footing, she wetted her lips. "So… obviously, it would be better for me to come talk to you than to have-"
The logic had already registered on the girl's face.
"… yeah… come here. Since she's… well, I'm sure you understand that… she isn't very… socially endowed. I guess you could say."
"Yeah. So I've heard." The Indian girl agreed slowly, not without emphasized distaste for Alucard.
There was quiet. The Indian girl looked back to her hidden roommate, and then again at Seras. Stared into her face. Frowning, and then not quite frowning. She sniffed. "…You can come in. Just don't ask a whole lot of questions."
Oops, Seras thought. And her confidence took another blow.
And yet still, as the door shut behind her, Seras took a deep breath of relief and enjoyed a temporary sense of accomplishment, while it lasted. She looked about the room to make herself more comfortable, which might improve her… efficiency, as the next step in her "plan" was initiated. She found Francine (the only other girl in the room), who had been hidden behind the door. But now that it had been shut, she passed Seras and turned to face the fledgling as she sat on her floral-print comforter, and crossed her long legs – exposed below her tight, denim shorts, which were worn, and well-used.
The girl seated on the bed was very pretty – and undoubtedly gorgeous when she had on some makeup and had brushed her hair within a span of eight hours – was Seras' first impression. But she was also frazzled, stressed, sad, and not completely at ease with the stranger in her room. Her distrust was deep, carved into her by her recent misfortunes.
Seras looked on with pity, her heart swelling, her eyes preparing to fill as she clasped her hands reverently and opened her mouth to speak-
"That's my roommate." A mattress on the other side of the bed of flowery-print caught the weight of the Indian girl as she let herself collapse backwards, head sinking into fabric, black hair spilled out beneath her – to lie dead (Alucard-like, though face up) on her comforter, which deflated with an overstretched sigh that filled a pause. Then the girl sniffed and gave a louder, heavier sigh. "I'm Francine."
Seras stared, out of sorts as she gazed at Apparently-Not-Francine, unable to fend off a strong feeling of doubt – considering the state of the girl before her, while at least Apparently-Francine had clearly showered and brushed her hair that evening.
"Her name's Rebecca." Francine watched the bland creamy-whiteness of her smooth ceiling, moving her lungs slowly - but her lips twitched and her features scrunched into a grimace she immediately cast off, denying the stinging sensation that had pierced her eyes. She sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand – only to sniff again. She shut her eyes. And Seras could see the extent of her exhaustion. "You got the math and sciences building…right, in some way. I guess. …I haven't heard that bit in anything people have been passing around. …" As Seras didn't say anything, Francine remained lying in a deflated heap of emotional inertness. "I just want to know if you're telling the truth. If you're not, if you're just here for gossip – then please, spare me the trouble. And escort yourself out. I don't know if you heard about it or not, but I've already had to smack a girl. I don't have any problems doing it again, to someone who deserves it."
Seras unfastened her lips- Nothing came out.
Francine sniffed, and opened her eyes to the ceiling again. "Is Alucard really your sister?"
"Y-yes." Seras hesitated, and yet her voice didn't carry the undertone of a poorly delivered lie – only nervousness, which seemed appropriate, considering the nature (or subject) of the question. The fledgling fiddled with words, feeling that a 'yes' was too short, somehow suspicious – though there was no reason to believe this. …She accepted the feeling, too cautious not to. "…And my name's Seras. Seras… -Hellsing. Alucard's… my younger sister."
The girl on the bed sniffed again, feeling warmer as the comforter absorbed her heat and fit the contours of her fatigue. "That must really suck."
The fledgling's brow danced, and she was distracted by Rebecca, whom she was standing before, as the tired raven-haired teen chuckled soberly. Framed by tightly wound spirals of hair, haphazard and frizzy due to neglect, her dark grey eyes met Seras' and they watched each other, Seras with confusion, Rebecca – with emotions and thoughts that seemed nonexistent. There was a shifting on the other bed, and Seras moved her attention, thinking Francine had sat up and was looking at her, mad that she hadn't responded (-at this point, the fledgling was hypersensitive about the girl's temper). But Francine had merely lifted an arm to rub feeling into her face, failed to do so, and then let the arm fall with her hand above her head.
"I'm just asking because I have to, but- Is Alucard the one spreading the rumors about a teacher finding…" The girl sucked in her lip, and glowered at the ceiling. Hating that she had almost used such an inclusive, coupling word. When there was no 'us'. Never again would there be an 'us' …of any sort.
She figured that she didn't need to say anything else. She'd said enough to let the rest of the question unfurl on its own, roll out to the end of the sentence. Easy fill in the blanks, with a ready word bank on the side…
"Oh, um –no. No, s-she doesn't really talk to many people. As I'm sure-" Seras tried to adopt the tone of embarrassed humility, but was again cut off.
"Yeah. Okay then." Francine coughed abruptly into her hand, a shallow cough, dispelling a minor 'itch' in her throat. All she could remember about Saturday… wasn't actually from Saturday, but of early Sunday morning, when she wandered into her dorm room after soaking in the rain for what must have been hours. Her knees and hands had been caked with mud, and her dress had been ruined – during the time she must've spent stumbling around in the dark, and then fallen, likely, in the flooded grass… somewhere. After he abandoned her. Hidden by her yoga pants, her knees were no longer swollen, but they were black, blue, and tinged with green which meant that the bruises were on their way to being healed. Not fast enough, though. She chewed her lip, her eyes shut, and she moved her arm to hear it sweep over the comforter. It sounded like rustling leaves – trees caught in the wind, and with her eyes closed, her mental trees were cast in night. No rain was mustered, however. Just a string of sound, notes played over and over beneath a skipping needle.
Francine figured that Alucard's sister was too timid to speak up, probably not used to the freedom – due to… well… Alucard's infamous Alucard-ness (a bullet between the eyes, I-don't-give-a-f*, stone-cold bitch). Alucard wouldn't take shit from anyone. She'd be impervious to all of the morons who dared to 'whisper' things behind her back, in her face, spreading lies and giggling at her in the hallway. As Francine imagined Alucard responding to a certain pixie-cut blonde calling her a "slut," and the smashed-in nose that would be the result… she was a bit more open to the idea of welcoming the Hellsing siblings into her troubles, should they already know what most of the story was anyway. More than her…
If only the girl she'd smacked had been that nasty, skinny little blonde princess. She hated her. Hated her guts.
...
Meanwhile, Seras played with her fingers nervously.
...
While Rebecca stared.