XXVI.

[hellshaped]

[Hellboy is outside enjoying the weather this afternoon. It's August now, which means Autumn is fast approaching -- and he figures he should get in all the mild weather he can, before the weirdness starts.

He pauses to lean against a tree and light a cigarette, opening his journal to dictate into it in the meantime.]

So who wants to take bets on what kind of weird stuff will happen to the trees when Fall starts? My money's on glow-in-the-dark leaves. Or it would be if money even mattered here.

[Molotov]
So it's your birthday tomorrow, is that right?
[/filter]

Comments

[hellshaped]

[He raises his right hand, putting his left over his heart.]

I swear on my life it is. [More or less.]

[molotov]

I choose to trust it. Hopefully it will not come back to bite me.

[She smiles and takes a bite of pancake.]

[hellshaped]

[He just smiles and goes to get himself a glass of water.]

So?

[molotov]

Very good!

[hellshaped]

[He takes a seat across from her, his tail absently curling around the table leg.]

Are you sure you're not just being nice? [he's joking, jokingly fishing for compliments]

[molotov]

Positive. These are much better pancakes than I am used to. Thank you.

[hellshaped]

No problem. [sips dat water] What are you used to?

[molotov]

My husband's pancakes.

[hellshaped]

[THE VIOLENT WHITE TRASH GUY ...]

He's not a good cook?

[molotov]

He is fine. But no expert.

[hellshaped]

[Pfft, haha, he laughs at that.] Are you telling me I'm an expert at pancakes?

[molotov]

Better than Samson, at least!

[hellshaped]

He can't be that bad.

[molotov]

He is basically what you would think that a bachelor who spent his entire adult life living with other bachelors would be like, at least in terms of cooking. He has picked up a few things here and there, though.

[hellshaped]

[But Molotov ... are you really in a position to judge ..........]

So do you two just wish for food?

[molotov]

I did. Brock cooked for himself, and sometimes for me. And we went out to eat. But Brock has made me stop wishing.

[hellshaped]

[still sipping dat water]

What? Why?

[molotov]

The castle was not kind last month.

[hellshaped]

Oh ... did it make you really sick or something?

[molotov]

Something like that.

[hellshaped]

Then I guess it makes sense that he would want you to stop.

[molotov]

It does not make it less obnoxious.

[hellshaped]

[He can't really comment much about this, since he doesn't know Molotov's husband like, at all. He doesn't really like him from what he knows about him ... but he agrees with him on this. If Molotov were his wife, he wouldn't want her to put herself in danger of the castle's wrath either.]

He's probably just worried about you.

[molotov]

I need to be able to wish. Do you know how much bears eat?

[hellshaped]

[A lot, probably!] Well ... have you ever noticed that when you go outside actually looking for an animal specifically, usually one shows up? So maybe if you went looking for fish ...