Disclaimer- I do not own these characters. This is the revised version, some of you said it needed more description and you were right. Hope it worked!

The inside of Molly Moggs brought to mind a very dirty walk-in closet with a puke stained bar. The wooden floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and spilt Heineken that stuck to the bottom of shoes and made rubber soles squeak for days after a visit. Every inch of the walls and the ceiling was covered with posters from movies and theatre productions that overlapped one another and peeled back in the corners looking damp and smelling of mould. The place was tiny, and the majority of the clientele were perched on their barstools, leaning over one another to watch the football match on the fourteen inch telly in the corner.

            Behind the bar, the bartender read over what appeared to be a science textbook; her eyes squinted in the dim light. She glanced up occasionally when one of the regulars ran low, or when something interesting happened in the match, but for the most part overlooked the patrons. The men behind the bar didn't care, as long as their beers lasted, and the match stayed interesting they didn't need anything as trite as service. The couple in the opposite corner of the bar, near the loos was another story.       

            The man was in his late twenties or early thirties, and wore a military uniform that was a little worse for wear. He'd drained his beer already, and was trying in vain to catch the bartender's attention without shouting. Across from him, a slight young woman with bright red hair was sipping idly at her red wine (the first the bartender had ever served in that pub), and watching her companion with interest. Had anyone bothered to look these two over they might have noticed a few peculiarities. For example, the man was covered in dirt and sweat, and had a freshly patched cut along his left cheek. He wore a small pistol at his side, that looked more like it belonged in an action movie than in a local tavern, and he was shaking with fright. Had anyone cared to inspect his companion more closely they would have been very surprised, for she was white as death with waxen skin that seemed almost too perfect, and had eyes the same scarlet as the door to the pub. She didn't say much, but when she did speak a smallish pair of gleaming white fangs flashed menacingly from beneath her upper lip.

            "Miss?" the young man waved his hand over his head, but was resolutely ignored again. He turned to his companion and gave her a brief helpless glance that she answered with a sympathetic grin. Somehow he wasn't comforted,

            "I'm going to go to the bar for a moment," he told her, hopping off of his bar stool. She nodded briefly and watched him go with a tiny half-smile playing on her lips.

            Seras what are you doing? She asked herself for the umpteenth time that evening. She looked at her barely touched wine and sighed. She was on a date with Ben Harper. He was one of the most eligible men employed by the Hellsing Organization, a fellow soldier, and dead sexy. And he seems to like me more now that I've saved his life. Of course it wasn't exactly a date; Ben had invited her out for a drink after she saved his neck… literally.

            "I'm back," He announced, setting a mug in front of him, "I got another wine for you."

            She hastily took another sip out of the first glass, and attempted another smile, but a fangless one, "Thanks."

            He glanced at her glass which was still over halfway full, but politely chose to ignore it. The two fell back into silence as he drank his beer and glanced now and again at the television,

            "You know," he said, startling Seras out of a semi-daze, "I still can't believe you made that shot."

            Seras took a draught of her wine to cover up the nervous giggle that threatened to escape her, "I've been practicing a lot lately."

            He shook his head and smiled, "Don't be so modest Seras, if it weren't for you I'd be a ghoul about now."

            I'd have shot you in the head first, Seras thought, "Well I'm glad to help."

            "You know Seras, when I first met you I was a little… nervous having a vampire as a colleague, but now I'm bloody glad you're on my team!"

            Seras knew that if vampires could blush she'd be beet red about then. That's a perk, she decided with a small smile. Just as she was going to answer however, the men at the bar erupted into angry shouts. Ben's attention snapped to the television and Seras had to try hard not to roll her eyes,

            "Is Great Britain playing?" she asked.

            "No," Ben turned back to face her, "its Spain and Italy."

            "Oh."  Seras had never enjoyed football, and she really couldn't see the point in watching a match between two foreign countries, but she tried to sound interested none-the-less.

            "Juarez just made a goal," Ben informed her.

            "Does he play for Italy?"

            "No…Spain."

            "Oh," Seras felt utterly dumb.

            "Well I guess we'd best be going," Ben said, standing up and throwing some money on the table. Seras hid her disappointment with a cheerful smile that made him flinch,

            "Right," she answered, wiping the smile off her face instantly, "Almost dawn."

***

            Walter made his way down to the basement slowly. The Hellsing family retainer was not fond of venturing down here when Alucard and Miss Victoria were in their rooms, if for no other reason than because he thought it rude to bother them in their 'off time', and because he liked to be on hand for Sir Integra. However, it seemed necessary to make this particular trip. Miss Victoria had been acting odd lately, and he was getting sick of it. She'd spent the entire evening walking outside to stare into space and sigh, and then walking back inside tracking in damp leaves. It was altogether ridiculous. He reached her bedroom door and shifted the bucket of ice in his left hand to his right before rapping on the door.

            "What?" Seras' voice was muffled so that Walter had to strain to hear her,

            "Miss Victoria," He asked, carefully keeping his voice down a bit, "May I come in please?"

            He was already turning the handle to the door when she answered, "Yes."

            He found her in her usual uniform, lying on the bed with her head buried under a pillow. Her gun was propped at the foot of the bed so that, he supposed, it would be more easily accessible in the event that she had to go out,

            "Will you be going to target practice this evening?" He asked. Seras managed a listless shrug in answer, but she sat up in the bed.

            He held up the bucket of ice, "I brought you something."

            She peered at the packet of blood in the center of the bucket and then looked away hastily, "I've already eaten."

            "Oh really?" he asked, feigning distress, "Well I don't suppose you'd like a snack… It will go bad you know."  

            "Did someone send you here Walter?" she asked, and he was surprised to see a glimmer of hope in her eyes,

            "No…"

            "There aren't any missions?" she pressed,

            He shook his head,

            "Damn." Seras slammed her hand on the bed, and look away from Walter. Her expression was so strange to him that he was actually taken aback,

            "May I venture to ask what's the matter Miss Seras? You seem… out of sorts this evening."

            She looked a little surprised, but recovered quickly, "I'm fine Walter, thank you." When she saw that he was not entirely convinced she jumped up from the bed and forced a smile,

            "I think I will go to target practice this evening."

            Walter's face relaxed slightly, "What about this?" He held up the bucket.

            "Give it to Master," she answered her voice surprisingly edgy, "He can't seem to get enough."

            As she left Walter looked down at the packet of blood, "Hmmm."

            "What was the blood for?"

            Walter smiled at Alucard's abrupt entry, "I thought she might be hungry. She seemed… depressed."

            Alucard shook his head, "She's pouting."

            "Why?"

            "Because she acts like a human instead of what she is. She wants to be what she was and not what she could be."

            Walter looked skeptical, "You think Miss Victoria is in an identity crisis?"

            Alucard chuckled, "No Walter, it's a little more basic than that."

            Walter seemed to decide he didn't care to know what the vampire was telling him, he handed the bucket to Alucard, "She said to give this to you."

            "Good evening Walter."

            "And to you, Alucard."

***

            The target that Seras had just emptied her entire clip into sailed towards her, the light behind it revealing two large holes in the head and heart. Seras took it off the hanger with a sigh. The target room was empty; most of the men were enjoying a night of relative calm by going to bed early or watching television in the barracks. She would have enjoyed some company, but her aim was better than ever in the silence of the target room. She reloaded her gun swiftly, silently congratulating herself on her speed at a task she'd never quite mastered,

            "Your aim has improved, Police Girl."

            Seras refrained from gasping at her Master's unexpected arrival, but concentrated instead on hanging a new target and directing it further back than the first. She couldn't say why she didn't want to talk to him at the moment, only that his placid drawl grated on her nerves just then,

            "I've been practicing," she replied through gritted teeth.

            "You're angry," he said quietly, and the words were somehow fuel to her fire, "Walter gave me a treat at your recommendation. Do you have something you want to say to me?"

            She let his words hang in the air for a moment and guarded her thoughts. How could he stand it that everyone was afraid of him? How could he live amongst mortals who would fear him even if he saved them? How could he kill all the time, but never love?

            "It's tempting, when they don't treat you like a monster to believe you're not one."

            She ignored this comment that hit a little too close to home, and aimed her gun carefully at the target that she'd decided to call "Master".

            "Not nice Police Girl," he chuckled.

            She pulled the trigger and struck the target between the eyes.

            "You should leave the soldier alone." Alucard told her, his tone unreadable. Seras frowned,

            "Why?"

            "Humans are not like us." He pulled his Casull from inside his coat and began to polish it. His eyes were averted, but Seras knew he was watching her. She wanted to be angry with him, but some little part of her still thought that her Master was trying to help. I must be delusional, She thought wryly.

            "What do you do Master?" she asked him, "When you're lonely I mean."

            He continued to polish the gun for a while, but after finishing and placing it back where it belonged he grinned, "I don't get lonely, Police Girl."

            She turned back to the target, "I do."

            "What do you and the soldier do when you go out?" he asked suddenly. His tone was more curious than anything,

            "Well, the one time we've ever done anything besides kill FREAKs together we had a drink."

            "Of what?" He sounded amused, and Seras was immediately testy again,

            "He had beer, I had wine."

            "Hmmm." Seras knew he was bored with her then, he seemed lost in his own thoughts, and suddenly she wanted him to stay,

            "Don't you ever want to do that? Go out and grab a drink with a friend?"

            His slight grin widened and he answered mockingly, "No Police Girl. I never drink… wine."

            She watched him go, his form disappearing through the wall, his laughter growing faint as he departed.