(no subject)

[wearyheadtorest]

Who: Hellsing personnel
What: The meet-and-greet barbecue.
Where: Out in back of Hellsing HQ.
When: Givdi, beginning in the afternoon, stretching on into the night.
Notes: Dean's network post will be the first comment, after that, just tag in at will to create new threads at the barbecue itself.
Warnings: Contains Alucard. Also contains Dean Winchester. Further warnings to be added as we go AW SHIT I NEED TO WARN PEOPLE ABOUT THAT.

About midday, a call goes out on the Hellsing filter from Dean, setting this thing up.

By mid-afternoon, with help, there are a couple of grills going, crabs on the boil, tables lined up in the grass behind the guild hall. There's meat, there's shellfish, there's vegetables and side dishes. There's even some wine and beer.

Hello, Hellsing. Come meet and greet your fellow operatives.

Comments

[hehaseatenthepancake]

After his shopping run, Hellboy set up his own little cooking station near the others. His contribution was a bit more involved than some of the others: thankfully, he was able to save some time by buying pre-made wonton wrappers, but he still had to mix up the crab meat, cream cheese, and other ingredients and get them wrapped before he could fry them up for eating.

It had been a long time since he last made crab rangoons. Fortunately, the time he had to spend cooling his hooves in the Inn the other day was enough to dredge the recipe up from out of his memory. He'd gotten it from a restaurant in San Francisco, early in his career, after he'd helped them with a hobgoblin gone bad that had taken up residence in their kitchen. (Ten years later, after they'd opened a location in England, he got their Mai Tai recipe for taking care of a werewolf problem.)

Once the rangoons are cooked up, they get laid out on racks to drain oil and cool off a little before being transferred to trays for people to pick up. His duty done, Hellboy takes off his apron -- just because he can withstand boiling oil doesn't mean he wants to -- puts his coat back on, and wanders around for other food and socialization.

[wearyheadtorest]

"These things are amazing."

Dean may be on his fifth or sixth crab rangoon. Who's counting? Certainly not him.

"Dude, you really went all out. Outstanding."

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Hellboy has sampled no small quantity of his own product, himself, which is part of why he'd gone to so much effort. Still, he takes the compliment with a smile.

"Why, thank you. To be fair, you get some of the credit for the great crab." He takes a quick look around. "Turnout's looking pretty good, so far."

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean shrugs. "Eh. It was nothing."

Where "nothing" equals "stayed up all night playing poker in a shady game in the back of a bar to earn the money to buy the crabs, got two hours' sleep, then haggled with numerous fishermen at the docks to get the goods". Look, he hunts supernatural monsters for a living, okay? Card games and crab shopping are kind of tame in comparison.

"And yeah, it is. Didn't realize we had so many people on staff already. It's awesome."

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Hellboy side-eyes Dean a little as he gets out a cigarette and lights it with a wooden match struck off his Right Hand. He saw just how much crab you brought in, sir. Monster hunter or not, that was not nothing. But he lets the matter pass without further comment.

"Kind of morbid to say this, but the invasion probably did wonders for recruitment."

[wearyheadtorest]

"Yeah." It's a grim assessment but Dean won't argue, because he thinks it's true too. "Recruitment always jumps after war gets declared or becomes real obvious, right? You can't get more obvious than monsters busting up out of your sink drains, man."