Boromir laughs, trying not to think about what's actually in Hellsing's basement (or who). Yes, there are so many things to tell.

"This way to the dining hall." It's after lunch time, and it's not like many Hellsing agents keep regular hours anyway, but there's still some food on the go. Not that Faramir will recognise much of it. "Ah, it seems as though there are hamburgers today. Although don't let the name fool you. It's made of beef."

He goes about helping himself to the hot plates stationed in a little in between area of the kitchen and dining hall. "Is there anything you look the look of?"