"Yes." ... Well. "It wasn't secret in Bete Noire, actually, due to the makeup of the general population, but that's about the gist of it."
She starts picking through a few file folders to pull out various middle-ground information about Hellsing's departments for Jack to look over - or just fuss with aimlessly, if he's still too hung up about her mentioning Owen, whatever works. "Bit of an arse, really." (He super glued a nursery light-switch into her office.) "But I considered him a friend."
From the way she says it, picking the words carefully not out of caution but with a sort of unfamiliar deliberation, it's clear that Integra is not used to saying that about many people. Of all the things she's presented so far, that may be the least surprising, given her demeanor. She falls quiet for a while after that, not sure what to do with the strange, briefly melancholy feeling that settles in her stomach; she doesn't know how to miss people. It's been dizzying, all these acquaintances returning, and she's not naive enough to do anything as ridiculous as hope or wonder, but she did really rather like Owen.
"The influx of arrivals," she begins again, shaking herself out of it as if nothing had ever passed and handing Jack the papers she was going through, "Refers to the group that arrived within the span of the same few days, prompting the social at the Valhalla. Prior to that, I've not seen more than a single person come through the arrival room at random, and I'm told there wasn't many before myself and my subordinate for some months. It's been a steady stream of newcomers since then."
no subject
She starts picking through a few file folders to pull out various middle-ground information about Hellsing's departments for Jack to look over - or just fuss with aimlessly, if he's still too hung up about her mentioning Owen, whatever works. "Bit of an arse, really." (He super glued a nursery light-switch into her office.) "But I considered him a friend."
From the way she says it, picking the words carefully not out of caution but with a sort of unfamiliar deliberation, it's clear that Integra is not used to saying that about many people. Of all the things she's presented so far, that may be the least surprising, given her demeanor. She falls quiet for a while after that, not sure what to do with the strange, briefly melancholy feeling that settles in her stomach; she doesn't know how to miss people. It's been dizzying, all these acquaintances returning, and she's not naive enough to do anything as ridiculous as hope or wonder, but she did really rather like Owen.
"The influx of arrivals," she begins again, shaking herself out of it as if nothing had ever passed and handing Jack the papers she was going through, "Refers to the group that arrived within the span of the same few days, prompting the social at the Valhalla. Prior to that, I've not seen more than a single person come through the arrival room at random, and I'm told there wasn't many before myself and my subordinate for some months. It's been a steady stream of newcomers since then."