Who: Integra & George. When: Early Afternoon. Where: Petes Cafe & Bar. What: An identity misunderstanding. Status: In Progress. Rating: TBD. American & British cursing?
“Of course this is Miss Blenner speaking, who else could it be? Integral Blenner, that’s correct. Spelled: B.L.E.N.N.E.R,” the young woman made a pause and let the man answering the phone corroborated the fact she had just asked him to. “In two days?! I need my vehicle ready for this evening! This wasn’t in the bloody agreement!” Another beat, another noise of furious gritted teeth. Her mouth and lungs craved for a cigar, but she wasn’t allowed to smoke indoors. “I don’t care how sorry you are and how many mechanics you lost this morning, look for new employees and replace them. Spare me of excuses, I loathe them. I need my Rolls Royce ready tonight. I will hear no more pretexts. Farewell.”
A barely audible voice saying “Miss Blenner, if you wai--” was cut off when Integral Hellsing swiftly pressed the appropriate option to shut down her cell phone. She would not accept more delays in the special modifications she had asked for her car. Her pompous model would soon become befitting of a military use with a harmless façade. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” she muttered as she put back the mobile into the pocket of her double-breasted black blazer. She drew out a sigh and leaned forward the counter of the cafe, pinching the arc of her spectacles over her nose. God, she was tired and unused to do this routine of endless paperwork, banks visits by herself. In London, Walter and her secretaries had taken care of this, but without those resources, she had to manage the wealth Alucard had store in her false name during his brief stay in Los Angeles. Alessa was a good girl, however the knight doubted she any experience with those leeches who were always sniffing the air in look for fresh preys to mislead As for Matthias? She didn’t want to rely on his peculiar resources that much.
Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing removed her glasses briefly to rub at her exhausted eyes and glanced down, looking through a blurry sight at her cooling Darjeeling tea next to the single slice of untouched strawberry cake with certain apprehension. The cafe she had found at the corner of 4th and Main had appeared lovely in the outside with plush chairs framed by large, velvety curtains, but she hadn’t counted she needed reservations for a table. The dinning zone was crowded, leaving her spontaneous entrance settled on the middle of the counter.
All she wanted to do was to celebrate the traditional Afternoon Tea in peace. She expected a service with thin sandwiches, smoked salmon and egg mayonnaise with mustard cress sandwiches. This would be followed by scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream and a selection of cakes. Tea with cold milk or slices of lemon as the partying treats. As a meager substitute, all she had to satisfy her palate was an insipid imitation of good tea and a miserly small piece of cake. They were lacking in diversity of fruit tarts for Heaven's sake!
Integra reached for the teacup and sipped the contents, nevertheless. She was famishing after missing lunch thanks to the long lines she had to stand outside the bank a handful of hours ago.