Bite they little heads off! Nibble on they tiny feet!

[baedalites]

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Catenrat party.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Givdi the 22nd of Toidaren
Notes: The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread. When your characters are ready to leave, they'll be given a little wooden cheese, a glass fish, and a voucher for a big basket of snacks.
Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Above the doorway and wound through a few of the sets of antlers some enterprising soul has placed a garland decorated with little blue and green fish.

Comments

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Many's the time that Hellboy has wondered just how different his life might've been had Prof. Bruttenholm not said the word that became his name, or had it not stuck in so in the imaginations of those around whom he'd said it, such that Hellboy might've ended up with some other, presumably more normal name. He has, on occasion, considered taking his adoptive father's name as his own, but knowing the difficulties that the Professor himself had with people hearing how it was pronounced and mistaking the spelling, it would only make his troubles worse to have people think his name was Hellboy Broom.

(Not least of which, it sounds like some sort of BPRD licensed merchandise.)

"Nice to meet you, Tonks." His smile -- such as it is, his stony features not made well for them -- takes a wryer turn. "Well, the obvious answer is a token effort to looking less like, well, what I look like. Truth is, though, it's mostly because I have enough trouble with doors, airplanes, and other cramped spaces without three feet of horns sticking up for no good reason. They were cute when I was a kid, but when I started bumping my head all the time, they had to go."

[deadclumsy]

Tonks ponders the merits of regaling her new friend with that one time when she tried wearing antlers for a week as a child. However, she thinks the two situations might not be quite comparable and keeps mum on that particular matter. Instead, she motions to the seat across from her, wordlessly inviting him to join her.

"You'd think this place'd be a bit more accommodating, wouldn't you? It's got a fair amount of - what're they called here, Xenians? Xenians, then, that they'd start making some concessions for a bloke with a pair of horns, yeah?"

[hehaseatenthepancake]

The invitation to sit is met with the tiniest bow, which also helps him get his head clear as he removes his sword from off of his back and hangs it by its baldric on the back of the chair before seating himself. He then reaches out with his Right Hand to a nearby onion ring basket and, like the claw machine at an arcade, picks up a bunch of rings to hold in his palm and work on.

"Well," he says, "the population's still mostly baseline humans. Some of the more out there types -- from a human perspective, anyway -- have their own areas they've adapted to suit them, like the vampire Undercity. Plus there's enough anti-Xenian sentiment out there that some folks may not want to seem too accommodating." He shrugs. "I was having those problems for decades before I got here, anyway. It'd feel weird to start growing them now."

[deadclumsy]

Tonks admittedly follows the movement of his hand quite closely: for all that she tries to seem at-ease, there is that slight, unconscious discomfort which most exude when with someone different. Which is saying something for her, as she still has the remnants of a pig snout on her face. That, too, disappears as she focuses on the conversation, however.

"There aren't a lot like you here, then?"

[hehaseatenthepancake]

Depending on her ability to sense such things, it may or may not be apparent that there's something Very Mysteriously Other about that Hand, beyond just that it looks like it came from a statue but moves like a large but otherwise functional hand. (As for the sword, well, it's Excalibur, so.)

Hellboy himself, meanwhile, has an uncomfortable look on his face. "That... depends on how many nature-vs.-nurture hairs you want to split. I'd say there aren't a lot like me anywhere. Even back home, other... beings like me aren't really like me. Growing up on Earth, learning right from wrong, all that sort of stuff."