Hellsing drabble - Not for Him
Walter waited silently by the door, watching as Integra stood before the full-length mirror. She was staring into it as she adjusted her ascot and cross, her gloved fingers moving so slowly it almost appeared as though they were in a trance.
“Walter,” she said, speaking very softly as her gaze never moved from the mirror, and he glanced at her face as he barely saw her lips move. “What do you think my father would say, if he could see me now?”
He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped; the honest answer that he believed was that it would be impossible for her father to recognize her. But he couldn’t say that - what else could he say, that would somehow reassure her - perhaps that her father would be proud of her, ultimately (if he ever got his voice back), that she was serving Hellsing so well -
Integra moved her head very slightly to glance at him, her fingers still touching the perfectly straight tie, and she had never looked more emotionless.
Then she dropped her hands and moved away from the mirror, passing through the door - saying almost idly as she did, though the detachment in her voice made the skin on the back of his neck prickle:
“That’s all right. I’m not doing it for him anyway.”
“Walter,” she said, speaking very softly as her gaze never moved from the mirror, and he glanced at her face as he barely saw her lips move. “What do you think my father would say, if he could see me now?”
He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped; the honest answer that he believed was that it would be impossible for her father to recognize her. But he couldn’t say that - what else could he say, that would somehow reassure her - perhaps that her father would be proud of her, ultimately (if he ever got his voice back), that she was serving Hellsing so well -
Integra moved her head very slightly to glance at him, her fingers still touching the perfectly straight tie, and she had never looked more emotionless.
Then she dropped her hands and moved away from the mirror, passing through the door - saying almost idly as she did, though the detachment in her voice made the skin on the back of his neck prickle:
“That’s all right. I’m not doing it for him anyway.”