With a Belmont. [ He makes a false-disapproving tutting sound, but he can't quite manage to keep the look of mock-disapproval on his face for more than a fraction of a second. Alucard looks too soft, too perfect and open and raw right now to even pretend at anything so harsh. ] Whatever shall we do with you?
[ That is, of course, a rhetorical question. He moves his hand up a little further, past the scar. The fingers of the other push just slightly beneath the waistband of Alucard's pajama bottoms and rest there against the skin of his hip for the moment. He's not in any hurry. ]
no subject
[ That is, of course, a rhetorical question. He moves his hand up a little further, past the scar. The fingers of the other push just slightly beneath the waistband of Alucard's pajama bottoms and rest there against the skin of his hip for the moment. He's not in any hurry. ]