no change for the meter

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Who: Hellboy and Integra
What: The boss delivers a present!
Where: Hellsing guild hall, recreational area
When: TuesdayMisdi, mid-afternoon
Notes: Preliminary to monster plot kickoff proper.
Warnings: Truly dreadful treatment, in Integra's opinion, of a national treasure.

Sometimes it's best, when confronted with a puzzle that one can't figure out, to put it aside for a time, to let the subconscious work on it.

Thus it is that Hellboy is lounging in one of the larger comfy chairs in the rec area of the guild hall, one leg draped over the armrest, his little hoof-toes wiggling about idly as they dangle in the air. In his hands, he's got a book borrowed from the Inn, its cover adorned with bright, pulp style art of an intrepid adventurer encountering a large glittering jewel while ominous shapes lurk in the shadows, entitled, Tom Swift and His Shining Trapezohedron. A nearby coffee table has a couple of large maps of parts of the city, heavily marked with dots here and there. As the maps had been received rolled up, their current inclination to curl back up has been curtailed by a towel-wrapped golden sword.

Hellboy reads the book leisurely, occasionally looking at the maps again to see if anything pops out at him. Technically, he's sort of working, but could be interrupted if something came up.

Comments

[hehaseatenthepancake]

"I wouldn't know about that," he demurs. "It's long enough since I read the stories that I don't remember who made what changes. I do know that she bargained with a demon for power, then welshed on the deal, and her primary concern was that she finally have a descendant on the throne." He shrugs. "Not that I'm necessarily ever going to get there, but it's the thought that counts, I guess."

He recognizes her assessment for the understated semi-compliment that it is, and gives a little bow in gratitude, Right Hand flat on his chest over his heart. "I suppose I can get rid of this now," he says, picking up the mass of towels and clothesline and slinging it over his shoulder. The maps curl themselves back up, and with just the slightest chagrin at not anticipating that, he slides the paper cylinders one into the other until he has but a single parcel to carry. With that bit of tidying done, he looks over at Integra, to see if she has any further comment.

[suninhades]

Well, she's just going to set that aside. The notion that there are differences to the truth of things in their worlds is not a shocking one, and this subject makes Integra moody enough as it is without picking through the bloody details. (Sir Islands, she reminds herself, somewhat disjointed in her thought process; Sir Islands is still someone worth respecting. Probably dead, now, but all the same.)

"See that you wear it well." Not a threat, but said with a confident air. She thinks that he will. Integra takes her leave, then, not rudely but not begging anyone's pardon, either, and she returns to work that's far less whimsical.

[hehaseatenthepancake]

"Yes, sir." The chuckle that underlies the acknowledgement speaks to his being entertained that she made it an order, though he'll certainly do his best to carry it out. He finishes picking up the rest of his stuff and goes to get ready for that follow-up walk he'd mentioned.