damned_institute | Day 28; Bus 3

There was, Naomi decided, some sort of cosmic irony in all of this. Not that she was trapped in a deranged and possibly other-worldly asylum with a man she'd idolized for years and a boy who was being investigated for - among other things - the murder of her fiance. No, at this point, those were perfectly normal occurrences. Rather it was the soft, pretty, feminine pink sweater dress she'd been stuffed into in the morning. A chance to wear normal clothes, and she looked like a soccer mom. The white blazer and white boots only made her look like a soccer mom who maybe hadn't given up gogo boots.

It was humiliating. Why couldn't she have jeans and a sweater? And sneakers? Something she would conceivably wear? Not this damned pink monstrosity. And her nurse kept saying how pretty she was.

She didn't care if she looked pretty.

Grumbling to herself, and taking it out on her muffin, Naomi was shoved onto an empty bus and told to 'sit tight'. Oh, she'd sit tight alright....

At least she was relatively certain L was alright. She'd spent the whole night with him, and other than falling on his ass, nothing had happened to him. And hopefully nothing would happen to him in town, either....

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Integra looked confused, mind already working to try and decide what plan he had in mind now as he handed her the loose piece of paper. She didn’t take it, still gripping his sleeve as she glanced down on what was surely meant to be some sort of distraction. It was a somewhat crude drawing. Her eyebrows rose.

“And what’s the purpose of that?” It wasn’t as mocking a representation as she would have assumed he’d do of her. Though the thought of the vampire having time or want to sketch that little work was very strange. She was clearly trying to read what he’d written below the image, but his script was careless in that lazy way.

Surely she was mistaken in some of the words. The woman looked back up to the vampire with heavy skepticism. “Poems, Alucard?”

"I was just bored. You know how easily it is for me to have my mind wander, and even easier when I'm cooped up like this," came the lazy reply as he relaxed fluidly into his seat, even if the top of his head was near to bumping against the ceiling.

"Oh?" he leaned forward, eyes flitting over his picture, and then the messy, cursive scrawl. Alucard was never one for poetry, but he had read a few books in his several lifetimes.

"What do you think?" He asked with a smile, wanting to know both her opinion about the scribbles, and why he wrote them.

She reread the lines briefly again, quiet though with an expression that told nothing. The woman could almost sense the bait dangling there. He was pleased with himself now, waiting to see what response she would give. If she ignored it, he would know she was bothered. But Integra hesitated with purpose, letting him wonder. When she was ready, her eyes met his again.

“It doesn’t rhyme.”

No, that flat observation wouldn’t be what he’d wanted at all. And that was exactly why she said it. Integra wasn’t going to fluster again so easily. Not now at least. He claimed this was inspired by boredom, and that she did believe. But she could only wonder what was the variable in her vampire’s mood swings...besides madness anyway.

Still showing her confidence, she continued aloud with that thought. “You aren’t even a pendulum with a steady swing from one extreme to the other are you? You’re everywhere at once. Boredom at one moment inspiring your need to kill, and another your want to flirt and agitate.” With her being the key underlying message to that sentence. The knight cocked an eyebrow. “Or are those both part of the same lesser instincts Alucard?”

He was protective of her, possessive surely. But it was an immature infatuation from her perspective. His brand of flirting was akin to a boy throwing taunts on the school yard. Integra tolerated all these things as just part of their understanding. Not that he wouldn’t step over the line at times, to be quickly put back in his place by her.

She hesitated because she was thinking of a proper way to rebuke him, he knew. The smile never left his face even as she looked into his eyes. That meant she was about to speak, then. She wouldn't back down, even if were just over a drawing and some carelessly written words.

"I'm not exactly a poet either," he replied nonchalantly as he leaned against window, one arm propped up to rest under his chin. And then she started talking about just how unpredictable he could get at times. Only speaking of it solely to reprimand him, or at least protect herself from further embarassment.

"You could say my actions are governed by instinct, to an extent."

Smirk.

"Did you read what I had to say about the pig who wanted to some women?"

How long would they linger on this topic? But then again there was nothing else to do. They wouldn’t really know their destination until they reached it. The buses had begun to move, but all that passed the windows was the view of a forest in fall foliage.

It hadn’t been autumn the last time she could remember. Her memory may not be as valid as she’d thought.

“I did read it.” Integra crossed her arms beneath her chest, wondering what time of year it now was in London. Normal assumptions didn’t seem as natural here, with her bearings so skewed as this. “If you prefer to think yourself committed to me rather than indentured to Hellsing blood, I suppose there’s not much difference.” The possible romantic inference he’d left by claiming himself committed only to her rather than any other women, was what he wanted her to comment on she knew.

“Why do you ask?”

But turning the question around on him made for more chance to slightly spar, distraction as the disconcerting scenery passed continually on either side the moving bus.

Alucard gazed out at the landscape, wondering just how easy it would be to: smash the window, and jump out of the bus to sprint into the woods. Or they could jump the bus driver and hijack the entire vehicle. His gaze lazily drifted over the heads of the other passengers, before focusing on Master again.

Their little verbal duel helped to alleviate his boredom, without making him want to go kill someone.

"I just wanted to know your honest opinion. Even after we've been brought here."

The woman glanced to her vampire again with cold curiosity. Reading between the lines, she noted the inflections in his voice, wondering how much care she was imagining and how much he was inventing simply for argument’s sake.

“You pleased me more when there was a purpose to it.” During the bloodbath his insanity could be melded into one of her sharpest blades, an unquenchable demon that killed only for her. But here, there was no such success. He was a naughty dog for her to mind and keep to her heels.

The bus was slowing, and she leaned back to keep from going forward. They’d traveled down into a valley now, and the staff’s rise to standing insured that they’d all soon be disembarking. Integra watched this procedure idly, looking for any lapses in security.

“But has your opinion of me changed, vampire?” His answer wouldn’t really matter. She could tell herself that. Integra was eaten away by her own self-doubt to a point where a servant’s ill-faith would hardly deepen the guilt of her failures.

They had sat, idling in the bus while the others filtered out of the bus. It was a small, quaint town, perhaps similar to the suburbs in England. "Well, you still hold my reigns, at least during the nightshift," he replied, getting off his seat at last. Though the last few nights had little to no bloodshed.

Alucard wanted to explore something else other than the maze like corridors of their prison.

"Of course not, Integra." The response was almost automatic. Though yes, she was his everything. "You are still the same person. Titles and positions do not matter too much."

Day 28; Bus 3

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