A twinkle of light rolled up the silver-hued sword of a bearer’s grip. It tilted a vague sum, then the sword lowered as the beholder’s eyes met with a pair of honey-gold irises, contrast to his imposing gaze that held a glint of welcome behind those stoic eyes. Fangs issued through his lips as soon as he had spoken,

“ Well, I do say… ” Alucard would greet to the person in a voice that could soothe a beast, having now retreated his sword formally from ever insinuating harm. His darker lips slowly curled into an amiable smile at the sight of such a darling creature, perhaps the first thing in a while to bring something so genuine onto his face,

“ Aren’t you gorgeous… ” He whispered in awe, his hand loosening it’s grip onto the silvery hilt, and the wind blowing through his wheat-golden tresses.