E-mail 3

To: greatqueenerat@france.fr
From: fangsnfeathers@england.co.uk
Subject: Concession of Wrongness

Madame President,

Well, that certainly explains things a bit! I should have known you'd never do anything to put one of your devotees at risk. And while it is an impractical combat uniform, it does convey a sense of deranged dignity as a dress uniform. And, while I fear I would drown in the ruffles, it does suit my girl. There's nothing more adorable than something that looks like a large porcelain doll baring fangs at you.

Anyways, I do see the merits to such a design. After composing that last e-mail, I went down to the kitchen because I was, for some reason or other, exceedingly hungry. Somebody had eaten all the cheese poofs and freeze-dried Asian noodles, so I was forced to attempt to make a giant sandwich for comfort. Only we were out of sliced bread, so I had to slice some more, but then I realized that there were no knives in the kitchen. Well, you know how I am after I... indulge, so after managing to destroy seven loaves with my revolver (Side note: Did you know that bullets don't slice bread evenly?), naturally I had to go look for them.

Every single knife in our house, plus five of the Count's favorite guns, three practice foils, and a wooden ventriloquist's dummy managed to fit in the folds of that dress. I didn't even know we had a ventriloquist's dummy. I don't think we even know any ventriloquists. But I was rather impressed with her ingenuity and devotion to her new task; it seems you may have gotten more than you bargained for in enlisting my Chandra! I simply told her that if Lex Luthor was to seize her, she should use her sense of dramatic irony. At this, she pulled out a cake server and grinned. Is it any wonder she's my favorite? Geneva be damned, she's a woman after my own heart. Or rather, the heart of anybody who crosses her. If only the other two were half as interesting!

And your clothing might not suffer the indignity of my middle child. Egs has expressed interest in "crashing" here for a few days after G20K- to "hang out" with us- and you know she doesn't go anywhere without that brother of hers. While I do fear she's going native, René will keep him distracted for a few days. You might be girly, but he's flamboyant. Although I don't much care myself for anybody who encourages the child's habits, René doesn't mind sharing clothes with him. The last time the two were together, they had taken the children for a week on their new yacht, and the boy came back wearing a sailor suit with those tiny little shorts. You know the ones. His father, needless to say, was quite upset. I was as well, but for entirely different reasons. Though perhaps less as upset as I would have been normally; indeed, this dealing with the Largos is weighing heavily on my mind. Luigi is tolerable, and even perhaps useful, but I've known pigeons more capable than his useless siblings. With his sister running the show at GeneCo, there will be problems, mark my word. And if I know that little tart like I think I do, the unregulated distribution of Zydrate is only going to get worse... Perhaps if we got the makers of it on our side? I know that I can lure Luigi into supporting us, but I'd like to handle this as non-violently as possible... for now...

Would you be so kind as to tuck a box of those exquisite little butter crumpets into your parcels? I fear I'm still something of a wretched baker. I'll be having the staff prepare the Zen Room for you, I think- we're currently remodeling the guest suites. D thought it would be "funny" to ride the Thunderhorse through the halls. I believe I now understand why Dr. Furter killed that young man on the motorcycle- the damage something like that does to a hallway!

Cordially,

Countess Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing