walking_napalm | BPRD

Entry tags:

hellboy

BPRD - SECTION 51

Liz is curled up against Hellboy's side, her head on his shoulder and one arm tossed lazily across his chest. The lights are low; the cats are quiet, which means they're hiding, sleeping, causing mischief somewhere, or a combination of all of the above.

She's warm, she's comfortable under the blankets, she's half-asleep, and she's tracing the runes on his opposite arm with one absent finger. "Good movie."

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This is Red at his most calm. Content, at peace even, laying beside Liz. His arm around her holds her close but relaxed while his stone hand lays immobile on the mattress on his other side. His tail hangs over the edge of the bed and the tip peeking out from underneath the blanket sways lazily.

He nods his head barely and gives a quiet smile.

"Yeah. Real good flick."

" 'Course, all the explosions were a bit much." The side of her mouth tips up, faintly, against his shoulder. A little more dryly, as she shifts: "And all the girl did was scream."

And shake her boobs. Liz is forgetting that important aspect.

Edited 2008-08-01 04:42 (UTC)

"Well they can't all kick ass like you." He grins. "And without the explosions the movie would've only lasted twenty minutes."

"Flatterer," she murmurs into his neck, pleased, her hand up on his opposite shoulder. She smiles there for a couple of seconds, and then she leans back a little, just enough that if he were to turn his head, they would just barely not bump noses.

"I found Milliways again today," she says, dark eyes on him.

"Oh yeah?" He's trying to act cool about it but coming back after her first visit there was much Red had to answer for. It wasn't exactly a fun time.

Still, his question is calm and curious, partly wondering what she did and how she's getting used to the place.

"Mmm." Her thumb's stroking his opposite shoulder, just a little bit. "I talked to the fire prince kid."

Her touch makes him smile but it falls quickly at the mention of the prince.

He tries not to get upset. He really does.

Cautious, "Oh?"

He's trying, and she knows it; her voice is a little gentler for it.

"He's gonna show me some control techniques; see if they work," she says, her eyes unwavering. "If they do, he -- offered to train me."

The corners of his mouth dip down in a small frown but he holds back most of the scowl that's trying to break through.

"He is? Huh." Toneless; which is the best he can do at the moment.

She sighs and pushes herself up on one elbow, resting her head in her hand. "Red..."

She doesn't roll her eyes; it's something of an effort, but she restrains the impulse.

"I don't know when I'm gonna get another opportunity like this."

He pulls his arm out from under her so he can sit up, leaning his back against the pillows while still looking at her.

"It's Milliways, you'll have plenty." He argues and adds, "What about the lady you met? She does fire too, and she's a teacher."

Whereas Zuko is just an ass.

"Kids, Red, she teaches troubled psychic kids, and she's got some control problems, too," she says, frustrated; looking up at him. "Zuko doesn't, and maybe he can even teach me to use it safely as a weapon. Charlie's idea of keeping it down is to throw it at water, because that'll put hers right out."

They've both seen how well that works, with Liz.

"Look -- he offered to help; she didn't." Because she couldn't.

Edited 2008-08-01 06:29 (UTC)

"He was also a jackass and she wasn't." He counters, starting to lose his cool already.

"He can't be that good at it anyways, he said so himself."

Actually Zuko said he was 'average' but that doesn't work for Hellboy's argument.

"You saw his face, right?"

"Yes, I saw his face," she says, closing her eyes momentarily. Then they snap open again; with a little more force: "And you know, I know it's probably surprising and all, but he was a lot nicer when he wasn't being insulted."

It feels like all they've been doing for days is fight. Liz may be the one who's done most of (okay, all of) the raging, but that doesn't mean that she likes it. She exhales sharply.

"I know he was a jerk," she says. "And I'm still not okay with that. But he was civil and he offered to help. He didn't have to do that."

"I asked him a question and he took it the wrong way." Which is a total lie but Red has almost no ground to stand on here.

"I backed down when you told me too, I didn't hit him. He's the one who walked off. You call that civil?"

She grits her teeth, and she says, patiently, "No, I don't. I call that being a jerk. I call talking to him today civil."

She shoots him a look. With frustration in every word: "You asked him if he made balloon animals."

"Maybe I'm throwing a party." And now he's scowling.

Moving so he's actually sitting up now instead of leaning back he says, "Really, Liz, this guy was triggering you just by standing there. You think when you actually start working with the fire you can hold it back without losing it or that he's going to be able to do anything when you do?"

He's mad, but when the words are out he stops short.

He didn't mean for any of that to be against her but it probably sounded a lot like it was.

"I meant that on him. He's the one I don't think can handle it." He tries to correct.

Liz pushes herself up, too, sitting cross-legged with the blankets in her lap and her arms folded. "No, I think that's exactly what you meant," she says, and there is something a little (a lot) like stubborn hurt in the set of her mouth. She says stuff like that all the time; Red doesn't.

"It's not 'when' I lose it. It's 'if.' I'm getting better at this; it's not like I've had a lot of experience standing around people who can throw fire."

Her expression has determinedly shifted into just plain stubborn. "The plan is to start slow; no fire. I'm not stupid, Red."

He doesn't say things like that, and he didn't mean to just now.

Seeing that he's hurt her, his scowl melts into a regretful frown and he backs down almost immediately.

"I know you aren't, Liz. I just ... " He turns his head away from her and studies the fingers of his stone hand along the side of the bed, going silent as he works out his words.

"I don't like him. And, I don't trust him."

There, he admitted it. Part of the problem anyways. The other half being the reasons he doesn't like Zuko aren't going to be voiced aloud. Mainly because it's about Red being insecure and not happy someone can help her where he can't.

"You really want to do this?" She doesn't need his permission, he knows that. And he's not really asking to give it but he wants to be sure like she is.

This answer won't do it, but maybe it'll bring him closer to that point.

"...Yeah," Liz says softly, and her shoulders have sagged a little. "I really want to do this. I don't have a choice in doing this. If there's a chance, any chance, that I could get better control of it, that I wouldn't hurt anybody ever again -- I have to try."

The body count on her conscience is already high enough.

She hesitates a second -- and then she reaches out and touches his elbow, gently. "It's not like I'm trusting him blindly, here. I'm watching him."

He turns his head to look at her again at the touch and nods slowly.

"I know you do. Father would've said the same."

And it's that thought that makes him give in and the relenting is pretty clear on his features.

"I'll watch him too." He offers.

She smiles, small but genuine. "Okay." She gets up on her knees, hand on his shoulder for balance, and kisses his cheek; she rests her forehead against the side of his, and stays there. "Just -- maybe not during class-time, huh?"

On the one hand, she'd feel better with Red there; but on the other, it's her demon to struggle with, and while she loves Hellboy to death -- he'd be one hell of a distraction.

Mostly because it has already been proven that he and her intended instructor don't get along in the least.

The frown returns and he looks at her from the corner of his eyes.

"You don't want me there?" It sure sounds like that's what she's saying.

"It's not that I don't want you there; trust me," she says, fervently. "It's that--" She leans back a little bit. "Okay, say you go. You and the kid don't like each other, he says something, maybe you say something, he insults you, and suddenly, look at that. I've lit him on fire."

She's got a point. Which annoys him because it's a good enough point he can't really make an argument against it.

So instead he makes a sarcastic, but relenting, remark.

"I wouldn't mind if you lit him on fire."

"He might. And I would," she says, squeezing his shoulder gently.

"Unless he was being a real ass."

"I'm sure if you give him some time he'll do it."

He sighs and gives a reluctant smile.

"You sure about this?"

She pretends to consider it.

Not without humor: "Mmm. Not really."

She smiles back at him, faint and wry and quietly determined; more of a quirk of her lips than a smile, but still stubborn as hell. "Got to try, Red."

"I know you do." He nods, reaching his hand up to trail down her cheek.

"Let me know how it goes, all right?"

Liz has always had a problem with maintaining constant eye contact (even if she's slowly getting better at it). It's never been like that with Red; it's never been been even the slightest bit difficult. She can look up, meet those gold eyes, and hold them -- no twitches of discomfort, no glancing away. For as long as she wants.

"All right," she says, soft but no less strong for it. She leans into his hand.

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BPRD - SECTION 51

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