Characters: Hellboy (
redrighthanded) & Dr. Watson (
motherhenning).
Setting/Location: Gamma Tower, N-302.
Date & Time: Day 0, late evening.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Hellboy and Watson meet for the first time. It's bound to go well, right?
(
Look at this. You're the only man in the world with clenched hair. )
They'd heard of this Way Warrant fellow and they were all to be sent off on this caravan that, he'd seen it with his own eyes, was being pulled by a giant of all things. And his roommate, presumably, was named Hellboy. Watson rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand as came to this shared room. With a name like that, he could only pray the man- boy- whatever wasn' ( ... )
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"Hey," Hellboy replied, trying to ignore the good Doctor's shocked expression as he turned back to his work. He picked up an oil-stained rag with his stone hand and started to work it over the barrel of the Samaritan. "You get the top bunk."
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"Very well," He stepped into the room and set his case and junogam down on the desk, before his attention was caught by the movement of the other man's-- was that a tail? For the upteenth time that day, Watson wondered if he really was still dreaming. Or if maybe Holmes had taken it upon himself to drug him this time instead of the dog. "You must be- Hellboy, was it?"
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"And you're Doctor Watson." He grunted, amused, and returned his attention to the gun. "I read your books when I was a kid. My old man thought they'd be a good primer."
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"Have you ever experienced anything like this before?" He assumed the answer would be no, as most people seemed to have little to no idea what was going on, but one could hope.
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"Nope," he replied when Watson asked his question. "My kinda weird is usually limited to ghouls and ghosts and undead Nazis, that sort of thing."
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