Liz Sherman // Hellboy II // Milliways

[mmlexie]

Liz is literally on fire when she stomps through the door, and hopping -- not literally -- mad (and other things, too, but she's focusing on the furious part, because it's easiest

Comments

[ladyfirestarter]

"Liz?"

No, Charlie wasn't in the room when Liz came in; she was out back. She could hardly help but feel that entrance, though.

"You okay?"

[walking_napalm]

Liz is at the bar by now; it says wonders about her level of distraction that she doesn't realize how close Charlie is (she can't not notice that the other woman is near; she thought she had a few seconds longer, though) until she speaks.

She starts, and a few loose flames flurry up the back of her neck and disappear into her hair; her low order stops mid-word.

"--Charlie," she says, and her fire is still unmistakably roiling just under the surface, fiercely controlled; her jaw is tight. "Hey."

[ladyfirestarter]

It's been a week or so since they last spoke; Liz was on edge, but nothing like this.

Very quietly: "You want to talk about it?"

[walking_napalm]

"We're out," she says, and she has an elbow up on the bar. "The Bureau. Red," (and she grits his name through clenched teeth), "let me blow him out a window into a hornet's nest of reporters."

Liz tends toward acerbic even on the good days; today, her voice is all but dripping acid, her eyes flashing. "My face is all over the news; Jimmy Kimmel wants to know who the 'cute girl' is. I can't go anywhere; I get," and her gesture is short and sharp and thoroughly uncomfortable, "stared at--"

[runsthehouse]

In running for the Shortest Thread Ever:
This is a good object lesson in why some sapient robots shouldn't be allowed in the pandimensional playground.
This goes double for the one that went on fire-safety duty when Tony Stark was testing his armor... and never managed to go off-duty.

Sorry, Liz. When Dummy sees a fire, he extinguishes it. (Even a potential fire, really, but this one is defnitely fire. And he doesn't have much of a sense of self-preservation.)

[walking_napalm]

Liz has never liked the taste of fire suppressant foam.

Ever.

The fire was already almost all the way out. When the spray hits her, though, after the initial split second of shock--

Her eyes narrow.

This was so not the day to hit Liz Sherman in the face with a burst of foul-tasting foam, Dummy.

First one of her hands ignites, then the other. Her irises glow white-hot and red; the flames light all along her with a dull whump. She shuts her eyes, concentrating, and --

All things considered, it's a tiny explosion, tightly controlled; only in front of Liz, and only extending a few feet. There is no danger of collateral damage.

Targeted damage, however, is another story altogether.