(no subject)
The door swings open, and in comes a Hellboy. Only a Hellboy, anyway. It's his turn to look a little battered, and not just a little tired.
"You know," he says as he walks up to the Bar. "I need the best beer you got, a warm meal, and some maps." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a wallet-- the shining ID of the Bureau.
He stops, looks at it, and then puts it in his coat again, and digs into his OTHER pocket, gets out a wad of cash, and places it on the countertop and lets it go away. A pitcher of beer, a good sandwich. He takes those to a distant table and sets to eating and drinking.
He's pretty calm, for just having walked away from his family and career with no intention of ever going back.
"You know," he says as he walks up to the Bar. "I need the best beer you got, a warm meal, and some maps." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a wallet-- the shining ID of the Bureau.
He stops, looks at it, and then puts it in his coat again, and digs into his OTHER pocket, gets out a wad of cash, and places it on the countertop and lets it go away. A pitcher of beer, a good sandwich. He takes those to a distant table and sets to eating and drinking.
He's pretty calm, for just having walked away from his family and career with no intention of ever going back.