[She is, in some fashion, as much of an accessory to Alucard tonight as his sword is. This may be her presentation to vampire society, but this night is about him, and so it simply must be that all things revolve around him, be perceived in relation to him. It's the reason her shirt is blood red instead of white; it's the reason the same color shapes her lips when normally she would never wear lipstick so bold. It's the reason the buttons down the front of her vest are black pearl, and the ones on her coat are inlaid with the same. It's the reason her pinstripes are silver like the sword that hangs at his side. It's the reason she's in black like he is too, and there are no flowers to be found anywhere on her.

Tonight, she understands, more than ever, she is his. She is always his, but tonight she is His, and she understands why.

She understands, too, that beneath the impeccable exterior still lies a young man grieving for his mother and shattered by the abandonment of his father. Beneath his shirt there still lies the scar that she was invited in to his home to treat.]

I slept all morning, into the afternoon. And I had coffee before we came, so I think I will be all right until the sun comes up.

[She turns toward him, reaching up to fuss with his lapels, with his hair. She can't kiss him without marring her lipstick, and that's agony, too.]