BPRD - SECTION 51

[walking_napalm]

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."

Comments

[walking_napalm]

"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."

[bprd_agent_red]

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."

[walking_napalm]

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

"Unless he was being a real ass."

[bprd_agent_red]

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

He sighs and gives a reluctant smile.

"You sure about this?"

[walking_napalm]

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."

[bprd_agent_red]

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

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

[walking_napalm]

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.