Politeness with a stranger at first, I suppose. Then you never corrected me, and there never felt like a right time to switch.

[He's good at being still and letting Sypha do what needs to be done. Alucard chides himself as she does it, makes himself promise that there will not be a third time that Sypha must deal with this wound bleeding.

Then she is done. She is done and her fingers are wherever this wish to be. Which means that his own are free to rest at her elbows, then slowly, steadily slide up. It's unreal. Sypha is here, here and simply touching him, and it feels like there's been a great shift in the world.]

We can move to the living room...