Hellboy isn't really a regular at Queequeg's, but he's distinctive enough that when he trudges in, the staff apparently recognize him anyway. His hugeness is blunted slightly by the progression of his usual slouch into a full-on hunch. To say that he's carrying a sword would be stretching the point slightly, as the baldric holding the scabbard in which golden Excalibur is sheathed looks like it would take any opportunity to slip off the one shoulder it's looped over. The tan canvas-and-leather duster he's wearing has numerous bloody gashes, although there don't appear to be any injuries underneath them anymore.

He makes his way to the bar, plops down a small handful of coins from a pouch on his belt, and in his rumbling crushed-rock voice, asks for coffee and, "Breakfast. Surprise me." Either the coinage is very good or they take pity on his run-down state, as a few minutes later, he walks away with a large mug in his left hand and a sizable plate piled with assorted breakfasty foods palmed in his massive stone Right.

In the hopes that the chill might brace him a little, he steps out onto the deck, picking a table with one of the sturdier chairs to handle his weight. As he sets his cargo down, his sword-baldric finally slides off his shoulder, but it's a short drop before the strap catches on his forearm instead, and he hangs it off the back of his chair before sitting down himself. He doesn't start right in on the food, or even the coffee, but rather slumps a bit and stares at it while he takes a few big, sighing breaths, as though he's finally given up the effort of keeping himself upright for a moment and has to work back up again.