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[molotov]

[Molotov has certainly been a most difficult possible patient. She doesn't like needing to be in the clinic, especially not long-term, and that means nearly everyone around her gets to suffer.

Usually Allen, via her throwing things at him, but no one is exempt from her already-poor temper.

She has greatly perked up since House's return, though, and that means her behavior has improved somewhat. Like no one got screeched at for trying to take her vitals.

They were only sneered and sworn at.

Yay!

In fact, Molotov feels so much less angry that she is now willing to take visitors, and thus makes an announcement into the journal.]

This is Molotov. I am in a room in the clinic. Bring me flowers and candy and whatever else you would bring damaged people.

[ … Yeah.]

Comments

[molotov]

With one man, da.

[hellshaped]

Does your husband know?

[He's kidding. Mostly. He still feels wary about Molotov's husband, that the guy is violent towards her...]

[molotov]

Keep it a secret -- he has not noticed yet.

[hellshaped]

He must not visit you all too much.

[molotov]

All day every day, but you know him and his one-track mind.

[hellshaped]

That's men for you. Except for me, of course -- I'm pretty much an exception to my gender's shortcomings.

[molotov]

All men say that, silly Hellboy.

[hellshaped]

But how many of them are telling the truth?

[molotov]

How do I know you are?

[hellshaped]

What, you don't think I have a trustworthy face?

[molotov]

I think you have untrustworthy other parts, as all men do.

[hellshaped]

[IS SHE TALKING ABOUT HIS PENIS........ not that's awkward no]

Molotov, I'm hurt. I thought what we had was special.

[molotov]

So very special. We will have to run off together as soon as I am healed.

[hellshaped]

Oh, I thought that went without saying. Anyway, here, I brought you something. Like I said I would.

[He digs around in his coat pocket for a second, eventually coming up with a saint medallion, which he holds out to her.]

I know you're not religious, but humor me.

[molotov]

What does it mean?

[hellshaped]

It's a patron saint medal. This is Saint George, who is the patron saint of a lot of things -- he's pretty popular -- but I wanted you to have it because he's the patron saint of Moscow and soldiers. Not necessarily soldiers from Moscow, but you get my point.

[molotov]

[She takes it and looks at it for a moment, then speaks softly.]

Thank you, Hellboy.

[hellshaped]

[The corner of his mouth lifts in a pleased smile, and he nods.]

Sure. You know, I almost gave you Saint Agricola. [He pats his coat pocket, so the medal is probably in there.] But that's more for plague victims than the injured.

[molotov]

The plague already happened, remember?

[IN YOUR SHORTS????]

[hellshaped]

[WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT...]

There you go, taking the sweetness out of the moment.

[molotov]

My specialty.

[hellshaped]

Well, I think that's my cue to leave, anyway.

[He waves a little over his shoulder as he turns to go.]

I'll see you later, Molotov. Take care of yourself.

[molotov]

You too, Hellboy.