Integra’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. They actually were. It was entertained to see how many human habits developed those demon-possessed corpses. “How did you guess?” she asked, feigning an unsurprising astonishment. “Most of them are adolescents,” she added next, “Their spirits had been replaced by demons, but their minds never grew to the average simple-thought-process.”
Just like he had guessed, she had indeed no intention to double-crossed Lindsey McDonald. He wasn’t her enemy, per se, and she was far too noble to attempt that, in any case. Enrico Maxwell wasn’t above those treacherous attempts, but never Integral Hellsing. She was being chivalrous as the knight she was raised to be.
“In your condition, I should have held the door for you,” she remarked with a smile and slid inside. The interior was clean and ordered: the rear cabin had white leathered seats and all the usual multimedia and comfort options from cars of their calibre. The two layer screens were covered, useless to watch the news after the Magneto incident. At one side there were a pile of newspapers piled by publishing date and tied together. On its top, there was a sheathed blade. It was Mortuary Hilt Double-Edged Sword; her family relic. Integra moved her possessions into the compartments for their commodity and motioned Lindsey to enter.
“Would you prefer music or the news?” she asked, glancing at the media panel options located in front. “Or perhaps the absolute favourite after a rough night: complete silence?”