[Alucard considers the question. Or at least he thinks he does. Thinking is hard, not when everything is still overwhelming and warm and sensitive and everything else. He tries to at least give his stupid Belmont a squeeze. Something.
His arms don’t move. But it gives him an answer to the question.]
Nothing.
[Nothing at all. Alucard’s eyes close fully at that realization.]
no subject
His arms don’t move. But it gives him an answer to the question.]
Nothing.
[Nothing at all. Alucard’s eyes close fully at that realization.]