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

[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 ...

[molotov]

I would need hundreds of pounds of live fish a week, and that is on top of their daily diet.

[hellshaped]

[He scratches at his chin thoughtfully.] I guess that's true. And the townspeople probably couldn't supply that quantity either ...

[molotov]

Da, it is a problem.

[hellshaped]

Well, I hope you come up with some kind of solution. I don't really wish for anything, so I didn't get hit with that sickness everyone else did, but I heard some people got it really rough. Any workarounds would probably be for the best.

[molotov]

I think my husband has just decided that he is going to wish for me.

[hellshaped]

That's not exactly what I meant by workaround...

[molotov]

Do you have a better suggestion?

[hellshaped]

Err, no. That's why I said I hope you can come up with something. [Something that isn't just switching the castle's weird payment system to someone else ...]

[molotov]

[Well, Molotov isn't the one who chose that option.]

I suppose it does not matter either way. If I have to wish, I have to wish.

[hellshaped]

[He frowns.]

Well, maybe the castle will take them back someday.

[molotov]

Maybe. But until then, I have to care for them.

[hellshaped]

Would you be okay if the castle took them back?

[molotov]

[Molotov goes quiet and knits her brow, looking down at her feet, obviously looking for the right thing to say.]

I would not be able to do anything about it.

[hellshaped]

[Which means no, she wouldn't be okay.

He tries to switch gears a little.]

Do you have anybody to look after them if you go on a loss?

[molotov]

Brock usually does that, and Lucrezia feeds them often enough that she would be aware if I suddenly stopped.

[hellshaped]

Well, that's good, at least. If you ever want an extra set of hands on the bench, so to speak, I'd be happy to help you out, too.

[molotov]

Thank you, Hellboy.

[hellshaped]

[He smiles. Yay, friends!]

It's no problem.

So, how were the birthday pancakes?

[molotov]

Delicious. You should open a pancake restaurant. PHOP.

[hellshaped]

[Laughs!] Maybe. Who'd take it over if I ever go home, though? I don't know if anyone can live up to my standards.

[molotov]

We will turn it into a shrine to you. "In memory of Paradisa's most gifted pancake artist", and everyone will sign their names in syrup.