[As it turns out, Walter arrives quite promptly-- in half the time it takes for one to normally walk the distance between the cafeteria and the wing in which Walter's room is in. He turns the last corner to come up to the room at a brisk pace, wondering whether or not Cesare will be there before him; he hadn't exactly asked where Cesare was when he had called him.]
[ It takes even less time to walk down the corridors from his own room, so he's leaning by the door throwing a coin up and down to make bets with himself to kill time. He hates waiting in most cases but his mood is quite pleasant today and the excitement of seeing new technology beats any boredom resulting from the wait. He stands away from the wall at the sight of the man approaching, nodding in acknowledgment. ]
It seems as if everyone was there painting cookies.
I noticed a lot of people were more focused on the decorating part. I suppose mine will turn out to be the simplest-looking of the lot.
[He shrugs as he speaks-- an indication of his lack of emotional investment in the whole arrangement. Cookies are nothing more than a consolation token when one is suddenly ripped away from their own life-- practically an insult when used as part of a 'welcome party'. But if anyone deserved a taste of the fresher food, he supposed it would be the newest batch of draftees. And the people who pulled most of the weight, naturally.]
Cesare, right?
[Rather than simply entering his room, Walter first gives a knock on the door. He knows there's at least one woman listed on the housing roster for his room, and he isn't keen on walking in on anyone while they're indecent.]
[ They should still look better than his gross almost-black cookies that he tried making earlier this evening. But Cesare isn't about to admit that he got dragged into that silly pastime too. He cares little for giving anyone comfort when most of the draftees were of little concern to him.
Walter, however, is of greater concern because he serves a purpose. What nobler one is there but in ensuring the flow of information? He nods at the question. ]
[Ironically, Walter isn’t usually the one that ensures the flow of information back home. He’s the soldier sent to act on the information given.
—Well, there is the matter of passing on messages left for his master when Sir Arthur is out. Perhaps that counts for something. But in this instance, Walter sees himself as correcting a weakness in the operations of the Initiative—a weakness that could adversely affect him and another one of Hellsing’s own, not to mention the more civilian types around.]
At last. My apologies for having taken so long.
[No answer to the knock, Walter takes it as a sign the room is empty and opens the door. As he expected, there’s no one there at the moment.]
[ Cesare can be too wary for his own good, hesitating when told to enter the room first. That can be out of politeness, of course, but his mind quickly thinks of traps and ambushes before courtesy. He nods regardless and walks in with eyes alert for any sudden movements, stopping after only a couple of steps to watch Walter yet again. ]
[The wariness does not go unnoticed. But his brash nature aside, Walter is still a butler and it is only natural to him that he open the door and let a guest pass. And to him, Cesare is a guest.
Crossing the threshold into the room, Walter closes the door behind him.]
If you were uncomfortable with small rooms, you should have said so. We could have met somewhere more open.
[And without further ado, he kneels down to drag a box out from under one of the beds. There's some clothing on top-- jeans and a few shirts that most certainly do not match the style of clothing Walter is currently wearing-- but as he begins to pull out and set aside the clothes, the equipment resting underneath is quickly revealed.]
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[Action]
[Action]
It seems as if everyone was there painting cookies.
[Action]
[He shrugs as he speaks-- an indication of his lack of emotional investment in the whole arrangement. Cookies are nothing more than a consolation token when one is suddenly ripped away from their own life-- practically an insult when used as part of a 'welcome party'. But if anyone deserved a taste of the fresher food, he supposed it would be the newest batch of draftees. And the people who pulled most of the weight, naturally.]
Cesare, right?
[Rather than simply entering his room, Walter first gives a knock on the door. He knows there's at least one woman listed on the housing roster for his room, and he isn't keen on walking in on anyone while they're indecent.]
[Action]
Walter, however, is of greater concern because he serves a purpose. What nobler one is there but in ensuring the flow of information? He nods at the question. ]
Walter. A pleasure at last, I believe.
[Action]
—Well, there is the matter of passing on messages left for his master when Sir Arthur is out. Perhaps that counts for something. But in this instance, Walter sees himself as correcting a weakness in the operations of the Initiative—a weakness that could adversely affect him and another one of Hellsing’s own, not to mention the more civilian types around.]
At last. My apologies for having taken so long.
[No answer to the knock, Walter takes it as a sign the room is empty and opens the door. As he expected, there’s no one there at the moment.]
After you.
[Action]
The wait will be more than worth it, I am sure.
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Crossing the threshold into the room, Walter closes the door behind him.]
If you were uncomfortable with small rooms, you should have said so. We could have met somewhere more open.
[And without further ado, he kneels down to drag a box out from under one of the beds. There's some clothing on top-- jeans and a few shirts that most certainly do not match the style of clothing Walter is currently wearing-- but as he begins to pull out and set aside the clothes, the equipment resting underneath is quickly revealed.]
Here we are.