From: fangsnfeathers@england.co.uk
Subject: My Daughter
Dear Madame President,
I am displeased. While I know it's a great honour that my daughter be given a rank in the Sisterhood, and while I know that the first battalion is the closest to you, and while I know you're the best violin teacher slash ungodly godmother a girl could ever have, I cannot help but be displeased.
My daughter looks like a cake. Really, Emilie, what kind of uniform is this? How do you run in this? How do you fence in this? Do you know what happens if you accidentally drop a cinder on something like this? I cannot allow her to leave the house in it for fear that Lex Luthor will steal her while nobody's looking. And that's terrible.
Furthermore, you know of our little... situation with my middle child. We have a difficult enough time trying to keep him out of the Sangreal siblings' garments and the spare clothing you keep here; how are we supposed to guard the guest quarters' closets and Chandra's at the same time? Being only a dhampir, he doesn't have the same weaknesses his father does. The boy is becoming immune to the roses we wind around the doorknobs, and once he breaks through, then where will we be?
I will say though, the insignia's not bad. Did Eglantine design that hatpin?
Looking forward to seeing you at the G20K conference and picking your brain about the GeneCo situation. The Count wants to know if you're coming to stay afterwards and if you'll bring the badminton set.
Happy Bastille Day.
Cordially,
Countess Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing
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