[If Anderson knew he was thinking of Integra while feeding off him, it sure would sting. As it is, he drops his arm away once Alucard has finished, stifling any reaction to that brush of lips.

To Alucard's sharp smile, he offers one of his own.]

None of those bells or whistles of yours. Just your fists and that sword. I'm curious to see how you'll do.

[He resumes washing Alucard, making quick work of the rest of him, scrubbing his legs and stomach and hands, taking care to reach every inch. The banana scented soap is doing its work: he smells much better.]

Though you do have a hard punch. That, I'm well aware of. Last time we fought with fists, I haemorrhaged internally and spat blood for the following thirty minutes.