1.
"Sir Irons," said Integra, "I really must protest about the latest rounds of cuts to Hellsing's funding."

"It can't be helped, Sir Integra. We must all make sacrifices during these tough times." He stared pointedly at the expensive cigar clamped firmly between her teeth. Sir Integra stared back with a look that said tough times or no, the cigars weren't negotiable. "Might I suggest that you try to improvise, come up with some new and novel ways to raise funding for yourselves?"

"We have," began Integra, and was interrupted by Walter knocking on the door and walking in without so much as an 'excuse me'.

"Sir Knights," he said, looking unusually nervous, "we've had urgent contact from the American FBI. At their cadaver research facility, otherwise known as the Body Farm…" he trailed off, and coughed. "We've had a complaint against that shipment of experimental corpses the Hellsing Organisation sent them." He coughed again. "Apparently, during one of the experiments with a cadaver in sunlight, it got up in full view of several of the technicians, complained that the light was too bright, moved into the shade and lay back down again."

All eyes swung to Integra, who looked unrepentant. "What's the matter?" she said. "I thought you gentlemen were all for recycling."

2.

Stupid dinner party. Stupid old people. Stupid old people with stupid, chinless, amorous sons.

Integra scowled and did her best not to squirm in her chair. She was bored, god damn it. Just then, a smiling servant deposited a steaming bowl in front of her. Tomato. She hated tomato. She sighed and picked up her spoon and stirred it around a bit, hoping that the tomato had been improved by the addition of…anything, really. Her hopes rose as her spoon struck something soft in the bottom of the bowl. Potato? Pumpkin? Neither, actually. Eyeball. It floated in the tomato soup like it was floating in a basin of blood, like some eldritch witch's brew. It gave her a saucy wink and she sighed again.

"Waiter!" she had to raise her voice over the murmur of polite conversation. "Waiter, there's a vampire in my soup!"