1964-09-28 - Pancake Social
Summary: People want pancakes. Demons want your soul. Something has to give.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
janie hellboy rogue nightcrawler jean-grey 

Mutant Town was on the very short list of places that SHIELD provided Hellboy as a place that he could go without causing a commotion. With all of it's rather diverse population, he should have been able to mingle without too much of an issue among all of the mutants that society seems to have cast aside as much as an Isle of Misfit Toys. And Hellboy frigging loves him some Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer.

But still, even in this place, the seven foot tall demon with the massive right hand of stone tends to stand out. His trench coat is rolled to his elbows and he wears a stetson to cover his head, but that red skin and large tail flicking behind him are definite tells as he arrives at his destination.

The Lake O'Butter Pancake House is fairly sparsely populated for mid-morning. There are plenty of tables that are still available, with lunch still a couple of hours off. The welcoming scents of butter and coffee welcome patrons that enter the establishment, along with the clatter of plates and the clipped comments of the short order cook. Formica tables look like they have been salvaged from a fire sale, the vinyl chairs have more cracks in them than an old woman's heel, and the silverware is battered and bent, but the pancakes are fluffily sinful, the cooks used real butter - not that new age fake crap - and the blueberries for the syrup were grown on the very roof of the building. For breakfast? It's nothing short of lucious.

Lunch or dinner? That's a gamble.

For Janie, going to mutant town is a rare: partly because she is one of the less flashy mutants and she tries hard to keep her facade as a normal human, partly because leaving her boutique in Chinatown unattended on a workday is hardly justifyable most often. But today, she did take an eary bus to this 'damned' part of town to deliver a suit that had been ordered earlier the week - and Janie can't be picky on the clients with the loan she has to pay off.

After dropping off the piece of clothing, the next bus back to Chinatown clearly takes some time to come, so having nothing better do to, she does slip into the diner, hoping for some coffee - or even better: tea.

Nightcrawler doesn't often go into Mutant Town despite the obvious; he prefers to be the ambassador for mutant-kind outside of the known neighborhood. However, he knows people who do live and work here and he occasionally tries to visit one particular person who has dropped off of the radar, so to speak. After going to the apartment she held here and finding it empty, he decided to stop off in the pancake house to think. He doesn't have much money to be buying food, but he can certainly afford a coffee. The waitress may not be so happy knowing that's all he's having as he takes up a seat, but he's tried to be friendly and courteous.

He's perched on a stool at the counter and glances over as the tall, red 'mutant' steps in. The larger man gets a sharp-toothed grin and a salute is given with the coffee mug. Odd fellows unite!

Breakfast. Or lunch. It was something or other for Jean. Having walked the streets of mutant town and stalked it at night, she remains a little fixture in the corner booth with a bit of coffee and a mound of pancakes that were untouched. A saucer was next to that plate, which was previously filled with sausage and bacon.

The bacon was obviously gone, and a bite of the sausage was left.

Jean grasps ahold of her stomach, suppressing a burp which makes her breath smell a bit bacony, her head shaking as she releases a quiet 'woo' as she reaches for her hot cup of coffee. She's getting a hang of this, blotting out emotions and thoughts, and getting a little bit of a healthy weight to her body. But pancakes? Nahh.. they just may sit or go to someone less unfortunate..

M-Town: one of those locations Scarlett nearly never ventures into. She has the blessing of a hidden mutation, for the most part. Columbia, the Avengers, the X-Men, other commitments keep her busy. Sometimes work rather than a student's concerns drag her through. Like, say, the idea of the best pancakes in stone's throw of East Village after a lengthy run around. Is it too much to wish the fluffy plates on a ceramic disk be piled in front of her right now?

That she happens to be on the lookout for a mark has nothing to do with anything. Convenient coincidence, which leads the redheaded bohemienne to walk the length of the restaurant after an elusive bowl of boysenberries acquired from who knows where to bless her pretty plate. "Thank you," radiates in her wake, sung back to that helpful waitress who doesn't have to deliver it herself. Cue happy waves to all.

The blue scarred mutant gets an upnod from the large demon as Hellboy grunts, looking at the poor chair that will have to support his weight today, as he settles down at one of the tables. When the waitress comes by, he sets out a dollar. "The all you can eat."

"You know you're banned from that, Big Red!" the waitress says, gesturing to a picture on the wall of a crude sketch of Hellboy with several empty plates and a sign that says 'No All-You-Can-Eat'. "Awww, come on Celeste, they don't need to know.."

"I'll bring you a triple. Deal?"

"Deal!" Though as he's looking around, he lifts his brows. "..you classying up the joint? Never noticed the new girls before. Waitress hires?"

"Nope. That one.." she gestures to Jean. "Is a regular. Never seen the other one before."

"Huh." he says as he waits for his coffee.

When the waitress breezes by Janie's table, she frowns. "Tea? I can bring you some hot water and a couple of tea bags." she says to the woman, before moving to refresh Nightcrawler's coffee. "Are you going to order any food, hun? You look like a beanpole."

As for Celeste? Her eyes are empty pits and her skin is covered in fine whiskers that she uses to feel her way around.

Having stepped in, Janie does hang her coat at the rack in the entry and then looks around a moment before settling in a free booth. She doesn't know the people around, but at least they are friendly and willing to deliver a tea and some breakfast, even if it is unlike what she is used to. "One of the breakfast plates please." she tells the waitress, then shaking the head slightly. After all pancakes are nothing she got often in her time at the orphanage and living practically in Chinatown now, her breakfast usually did not contain them either. Still, they're possibly good.

As the redhead with the white streak gives her a wave, Janie replies with a kind smile, brushing back her long hair behind the ears. "Are they that good?"

Golden eyes glance about and a three-fingered hand is waggled in greeting to Jean and Rogue, both of whom he knows a bit. When the waitress addresses him as she refreshes his coffee, he gives a shake of his head, "Nein, danke. I…ate before I left home." Because he's trying to save what little change he has left for her tip. He then looks down at himself, "Uh…I am not so tall as that," is offered with a smile, hoping to distract her from the question about food.

With a glance up from her plate, her eyes alight upon the many newcomers abound. The big red one in particular. There was a temptation to stare, to delve into his thoughts out of curiosity, but she doesn't, only listens to the conversation with a smile upon her face, and a lift of her hand to call Celeste over to donate her pancakes to the cause.

Rogue however, gets another finger wave. And then Kurt. And then Janie. It was waves all around and her hands were going this way and that until she settles. "Busy day.." She says to herself, quite possibly waiting for Scarlett to take a seat with her. If not, she'd be the one to relocate, and she wouldn't mind that one bit.

"Absolutely worth every bite, I'm told. But I had to have the berries, last kiss of summer to go with the wonders of a pancake." Upon such bright tones of longing, a better poet than Scarlett might spin their saccharine bliss. Pity for that, but hunger does hollow out the artistic soul in any individual, no matter how much they might fight that. At least she brings the flowers — nasturtiums, their scent peppery, and rosemary for accents — in her elegant braids. It's hard not to stare at the big red fellow but lo, she does. "That's truly an outstanding hat. I salute your sartorial decisions." Not an ounce of mockery there; a good hat is not to be disregarded in any case. Ask a woman who knows Erik.

Slipping into a spot opposite Jean, she puts down the bowl of dark berries, and triumph sparkles. "Team Redhead acquires another fine meal garnish. They're delicious, so try one." Her bright smile could light up the room, and a gesture encourages the blue devil to join her and Jean because, hey, space. "I think I am about to order far too many pancakes. And I do not regret this. But if I should fail in my efforts, someone else will need to take up the challenge. For king and country, all that."

There's a bit of a frown from Celeste when Kurt doesn't order. However, the wave brushes the whiskers of her skin from afar and Celeste glides over to Jean. After the request is shared, she returns to Kurt with Jean's pancakes. "From the gal in the corner. I think you have a new friend." A sunny smile is offered at that as the bell is rung. "Order up! Triple home plate! One early bird!"

Hellboy watches the women intermix and mingle, and glances down at his coffee, lifting his left hand to sip from it as his massive stone right hand stays to his side. And inside is that eternal debate - they're redheads, they may be here to suck souls, or you know, looking for conversation. Yeah. Conversation with a seven foot tall red skinned demon and pupiless yellow eyes. Mmhmm. Blue man solo might have better luck.

In the meantime, in another part of the restaurant, a young man is busily putting away his fruit cup when an older woman passes by the table on her way out. She makes some small talk with the man, and gives him a small piece of fruit. Because apparently the man likes his fruit.

Hellboy, from where he's sitting, glances up, suddenly more alert, and his hand sets the coffee on the table. "Don't eat that!" he calls out suddenly, possibly causing the whole cafe to balk, as he grabs for his sidearm. "Friggin' old women, can't ever trust them!" His hand grabs the large sidearm at his side, pulling out the well oversized pistol and whips it around.

The old woman stares in horror at the massive demon. Surely someone will help save her, right?

Janie accepts her teacup with both hands, dipping the teabag into it. Even if its just bergamotte flavored Earl Grey - one of the least good teas. giving it a long soak as she waits for the pancake and breakfast plate, the woman is about to pass by… and then the red hulking figure balks up. Having had her cup lifted just enough to try to move it, the hot water goes onto the ground in a spill as Janie jumps up.

Eying between the sudden contrahents - one of them drawing a GUN, her reaction is to duck down quickly, eying the sleeve of the Demon's sleve, biting her lips as she carefully tries to slip the huge piece just enough to hopefully get in the way of operating the hammer… just the coat cuff getting over the hammer should be enough, right?

"Was?" is asked befire Kurt glances over at Jean and gives her a wave of thanks. Catching Scarlett's gesture to join them, he considers for a moment and takes the plate in one hand and his coffee in another and starts heading their way. When the large, red guy pulls out the gun and aims it towards the little old woman, he moves to actually step in the line of fire…still holding the plate and mug. "Mein Freund…I think this is not the place for that. I think we can talk this out, ja?" There's a glance over his shoulder at the old woman and the man who just received the fruit. "Perhaps you should listen to him first before you eat?"

Jean reaches out for the bowl of dark berries, plucking one from its gathering to study it quietly. "My pancakes are already gone.." She says sadly, nudging her chin towards where Celeste had came moments after to relieve her of her goods. "I don't require much food anyways.."

As in, nothing makes her happy. Nothing fulfills her, everything just comes right back up. "So we're good."

And yet, the outburst doesn't surprise her. There was nothing in the air that gave her any indication that something was about to happen. Yet the quick movements of the large, red demon gave her a bit of a pause, her eyes darting from one person to the next, even to the bravery of Kurt.

"Blech. Don't get up Scar. I got this."

(Editors Note: Hold my beer is appropriate.)

With a slight slump down in her seat to keep herself slightly concealed behind.. or in front of her team-redhead cohort.. her fingers press to her temple as she focuses her thoughts upon Hellboy, the man with the gun.

And yet.. what Jean gets isn't what she's bargained for.

It was something unseen and unsightly. Hellboy could feel the first tickles of something mingling at the back of his neck.. Jean's face grimaces as both internal hells begin to mingle and mix as one, to the point where her eyes begin to bleed black, blotting out the green light of her eyes (no matter how dull they were at the beginning.)

Then there was a breath. A soft choking sound.. and no telling if her suddenly shadow-ichor'd eyes were rolling into the back of her head. And yet, with all the dramatics that fill the current situation, it was a quiet release of consciousness (or sticking) which has her hand flopping to the side from her temple and her head leaning back.

Boysenberries to go with her incoming pancake order could be construed as the best kind of fruit: not poisoned, in season, tart and sweet. Scarlett plucks up one of the gems and puts it to her lips, savouring briefly the frisson of flavours inundating her palate. Happiness is the flavour of sunshine on a hillside, the baked earth and warm pine resin on the air. Not too different from batter thick with butter and eggs on a griddle, becoming something light and dreamy. "Did I mention I love breakfast?" she murmurs aside to Jean and Kurt, lost for a heartbeat. Kurt isn't quite there, interruption abounding, but then her lost focus melts into something off.

It's like trying to make an optical illusion flip on its head. Stare long enough, it works, melting together. Up goes the man of the fantastic hats, her calculated gaze following Hellboy as he leaves his table, approaching the elderly woman and a perfectly nice diner. "In Mutant Town, you can never be too careful."

Ominous words? Not really, on the face of it. Her surreal green eyes lift, flashing in the fluorescent light. Her head tilts to the side, the gun not causing her the alarm it should. These days, it takes a bit more to rouse an overt reaction. "The gentleman," the blue one, "is correct. Something isn't right about this. Beware Greeks bearing gifts."

Whether or not anyone gets the reference, she's gone acutely still, expression turned all the calmer. Quiet of the mind, quiet of the soul, gives space for her to apparently be non-confrontational. And for all that Jean starts showing ink-black eyes, she's not freaking out. She should freak out. Except… except…

The young woman isn't exactly /aware/ of anything, not with the mental deep-dive she partakes of. But when she wakes back to the moment, she'll be appropriately horrified. Promise.

As Kurt seems to be moving to defend the old woman, Hellboy frowns hard. "Didn't you people ever see 'Snow White'? You don't trust old women in cloaks! Especially when they're bearing fruit! You're supposed to be a demon, you know this!" He pulls the trigger, and.. nothing. He probably would have shot through Kurt to get at the old woman, but that decision will never have to be made, because he's grumbling up a storm. Maybe because he assumed Kurt was a demon himself, who knows. "Rassin' frassin' stupid gun.." It always seems to screw up at the worst times. He's unaware of the manipulation that Janie pulled upon it with his coat.

The old woman cowers. "I didn't do anything.." she croos, looking to the demon in terror. "That horrible creature probably eats old women!"

"Only thing you're going to eat is cold iron!" Hellboy starts to respond before he feels that tickle in the back of his head. He scratches at it with his hammer. "…the hell?"

Speaking of - Jean gets to experience childbirth all over again - in the form of being a small demon being ripped from the flaming womb of it's mother. It's hand being removed and replaced. Of hellfire and the war over the child - and being sent away, just to be ripped back to earth. And then here and now, the sight of the old woman through his eyes as a crooked, demented hellspawn, it's back arched, it's eyes souless and black - just like Jean's! - and ichor dripping within it's maw as it hisses.

"Out of my head!" the large demon growls, smacking himself on the back of his head with that large right forearm, even as the demon lurches, attempting to grab Kurt from behind. "You'll do nicely in Baba Yaga's army!" she croos as she attempts to drive her claws into Kurt's back in a sudden surprise attack.

|ROLL| Nightcrawler +rolls 1d20 for: 4

|ROLL| Hellboy +rolls 1d20 for: 14

Janie stays pretty much ducked behind the table, the tea spill on the hallway cooling slowly as the manipulator of clothing tries to wait this thing out. She's not much for interfering on herself…

As if they don't have enough to deal with in Mutant Town! Kurt starts to answer something to Hellboy, still trying to keep the peace, until the old woman speaks about Baba Yaga. He's a little to slow to turn to *bamf* out of the way and he gets those claws through his clothes and into his back. "Eine Hexe?" is asked in astonishment as he tries to free himself from her grasp so that he -can- teleport away and not bring her with him. The fact that he's now in a great deal of pain doesn't really help. Still, he offers a gasping, "No guns! It will…only bring the police!"

A minute lost in the shades of self basically passes like nothing, Jean suffering and Scarlett seized by her own borrowed memories. Her gaze barely shifts from the table, a blank look at the middle ground accompanied by that utterly regular breathing. Everyone might be forgiven for wondering if she's bound to be any help, or just another odd patron thinking of taking cover under the table when no one else looks.

Sixty-nine seconds after — a bad year for emperors and redheads — the Soul-Thief makes good on her long ago promise. "Jean!" The cry comes as a soft, shocked expletive, dagger to her self. Other half of team redhead in a bad state should not be touched, but nothing says that she can't be immediately checked for the wrongness, awry things. With the rim of azure in the focused gaze swept back to the conflict, she flinches. "Kurt, keep away. It's hellspawn. Winter Mother, one of the legion. Death bringer, that thing's defiled. You do not belong here, old woman." In the grips of heavy sight, her voice has a ringing, unforgiving authority her few years on the Earth would normally lack. Her lips pull back in a flat, unforgiving line as she rises, interposing herself between Jean and the old woman. Or possibly considers hurling a plate full force, since that's the first thing to come to trembling hand.

But Hellboy is the police.. okay, only in as much as he's a SHIELD agent. Maybe he should have announced that first? Something to consider for next time. You know, if there is a next time. "Damn, we got another paranormal agent? Didn't expect it to be the hippy chick!" Hippy in Bohemian and well, look at those hips on her. "It's gonna take more than bad words to chase her off, though!" He tosses a horseshoe out towards Scarlett. "Cold iron. Good for what ails ya."

The demon keeps it's grip on Nightcrawler and twists her hand a little and then frowns. "You are no demon. You are a pretender. No matter, you will suit my purposes even better!" she cackles as she tries to keep the pair of agents at bay.

There's fighting going on, and… this blue guy seems to be the Kurt that the redheads called to get away. Well, Janie can't exactly be jsut a bystander, can she? At least she stretches her mental hands out to the rags the hag is dressed in, slowly digging them into the material, before she pulls at the collar, trying to get a chokehold. Which isn't exactly something easy with such torn clothing…

Nightcrawler gives a cry of pain as the claws dig further into his back, his tail moving to wrap around the demon's wrist and try to pull it away. Scarlett's warning is a little late as he's already caught and he can barely register the statement about not being a demon. He might remember it later and react but his first thought is to get away! "Lass mich gehen!" is commanded with a snarling sort of wince…he's rather wishing that he brought his sword today, but he doesn't need a reason to get -more- stares!

|ROLL| Janie +rolls 1d20 for: 6

|ROLL| Hellboy +rolls 1d20 for: 10

Scarlett bobbles the plate, dropping it harmlessly to the bench where Jean writhes and vows to never have children, by writing a novel of sparkly vampires, demons, and cracking hips to deter other girls of tender sensibilities. It's that or possibly let her best friend be brained by a horseshoe; the taller redhead snaps the iron hook our of the air. "Thank you," she murmurs. See, etiquette goes a long way in this world. She flexes the metal object, headed closer to Kurt and the witch while carrying her acquisition. She could brandish it but unlikely that it will hurt that way. Better use, skin contact. How exactly? Well, that's up to giving Hellboy a diversion to work with. A hovering leap covers an awfully far distance in a single go to drop her /behind/ the witch, given gravity is an alternative. So, how does she want to leave her back open?

If she's fool enough to treat Kurt like a shish kabob and not turn, then hey, nothing like using a closed fist blow heaviliy flavored by Chinese styles. Though doubtful anyone uses 'iron horseshoe' as a style.

|ROLL| Hellboy +rolls 1d20 for: 8

|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d20 for: 18

While Janie's tug on the cloak was not effective in capturing and holding the demon in place, she did manage to distract the old hag as she is forced to pull back her hand. "Argh, which of you did this, I will have your soul!" she screams out, turning to look at Hellboy. "I know you, Red one. You are the child of.."

And she doesn't get the chance to say more as Scarlett goes on the attack. She releases Kurt to turn towards the redhead with the white stripe and screams as the horseshoe hits home and the demonic flesh boils beneath the hit. Several more hits sear and cause major burns to the creatures body, causing it to drop to the ground in a moaning, screeching pile of gross. The fruit that she had given to the man withers and dies as Hellboy steps over.

"And this is the coup de grace. Tell Baba to keep out of the Big Apple, it'll take a bite out of her." Pulling out a flagon, he dumps the contents on the demon, stepping back carefully as the holy water spills on the creature and it dissolves in a spewing, smoky mess, sending the remaning patrons screaming and leaving the place.

Celeste frowns. "…I'll get the mop." she murmurs as she's heading towards the back.

Janie cowers deeper behind the table as the demon is dissolved, hoping for the air to clear lateron. Was her attempt to help definite? Possibly not. A Hero, this girl is not, especially with the now messed up hair.

Nightcrawler lets the momentum from being released stagger him towards a table so that he can try and focus on something other than the pain. He's been through worse, but it's bringing back some rather painful (no pun intented), deeply hidden memories. Now is not the time to freak out, however, as Scarlett and the red guy take care of the demon. "Danke…" is offered to her and to Hellboy after a moment before he gestures for Rogue to bring the horseshoe over to him. Seems he wants to touch it and make sure that what the hag said was actually true. "What was that?"

Some things, like fatbergs and oozing pustules, are disgusting no matter whom you are and what you do. Mephisto assuredly would flail his arms and break the fourth wall in an attempt to avoid being overtaken by either. Scarlett brandishes the iron shoe rather fearlessly as long as she's gluing it to boiling demonic flesh, that much not beyond her to achieve. Pus or bubbling goo, however, demands her fortitude and discipline work together instead of grimacing with absolute disgust and misery. It's good she ate only a few boysenberries or else this might go a lot worse than it does.

The smoke is what does her in, scrambling back to cover her face with her sleeve. There goes the horseshoe, held out and probably in a bad state, goopy and awful. At least Kurt can be sure of his proper state. "Demon. Baba Yaga, the witch of Russian folklore, caused that. They're awful."

"What little red said." Hellboy holsters his pistol, setting it back under his coat, "Trying to get her roots in America, just like communism." he says with a small snort as he holds out his hand to take back the horseshoes. "I'll make sure to get those cleaned up and reblessed." he grunts. "You did some good work there. You been fighting demons long?"

Moving forward, he squats down to look under the counter and to Janine and offers his smaller left hand. "You alright down there?"

There would be a bit of shame if one was actually found lacking in a fight, especially if that one was Jean Grey. She took a gamble on everything, and pretty much lost, locked in a perpetual state of being cursed out by the Phoenix Goddess and reliving a personal hell of her own making and that of Hellboy's.

Some shit like that could overload a brain!

But it takes a bit for her to come out, the stink of the demons death hitting her nose, allowing her eyes to burn, and a deep cough to emerge from her throat as she covers her hand with her mouth, her now green eyes bulging just a touch and…


This is why she doesn't eat, people! Its all your fault!

Nightcrawler wipes his hand off on the nearest napkin after touching the goopy horseshoe…at least there's that weight off of his bloody shoulders. "I have hearrd the tales, but did not know she was real." Fairy stories, after all! Golden eyes look between Big Red and 'Little Red 1' before asking, "Her claws will not poison me or turn me into something strange, ja?" Because…fairy stories. Maybe she's like a vampire? There's another wince as Jean loses what little bit of her breakfast she had. He doesn't really blame her and is rather glad he just had coffee and is trying not to let the pain bring him down some mental spiral of trauma.

Scarlett is trying so very hard to remain somewhat stable, but you know what happens when someone gets sick? Someone who can't even really be poisoned can feel that awful rising at the back of her throat, and flail abruptly with her hands at her sides. After all, Jean is over there suffering and out of her stupor, and that…

Not even a sound escapes Scarlett as she goes running full tilt for the washroom. If there's not one, a coat closet will do.

Thanks a lot, icky witch.

"Naw. They want your soul. Poisions ain't the way to do it, you have to accept their gift." Hellboy explains, as he moves back from Janie, assuming his own demonic appearance probably scares the girl. Then the puke fest begins. "…damn." he grunts, before moving to the phone, and picks it up. Dialing a number, he speaks for a few moments. "Yeah. Roll the clean up team. Gas leak at the Lake O'Butter." he grumbles, before lowering the phone back onto the cradle.

"Alright. There's a SHIELD cleanup crew on the way, so any of ya don't want to be around - I ain't seeing ya." he offers up to give those that helped him a chance to escape. He wrinkles his nose a little and goes back to the counter to belly up. "You got that triple stack ready?"

As Hellboy looks under the table, Janie glares back, muttering something in Mandarin, a mantra against the inhabitants of Diyu. Not moving, just staring back from her dark eyes, repeating the lines against the Yama kings.

As she finally gets out from under the table, she glares at the mess, making a hand gesture that is said to send away bad spirits in Chinatown. Then she goes to grab her coat, eying a stain on it before she moves towards the door. "I… got to get my bus."

It wasn't much, but now she resorted to dry heaving as she struggles her way out of the booth. She caught wind of the path that Scarlett had took, struggling to stand from the booth as she gives a wide..no.. bleary eyed stare to the big red demon..

To know someones name? It wasn't enough, she's seen the inception of the man this person came to be.. and its a near point to call him 'Danger'.

With a 'hrnburgle' towards Kurt and a wave of him over to help her walk, she waits patiently for the blue mans assist. She'd call him pretty, probably try to hug him, but she could already feel her stomach bubble and boil. Kurt was going to be a busy man tonight!

Give her a minute or four to freshen up, and Scarlett eventually emerges from the ladies' room. Her expression is markedly improved, if a touch pale for anyone's liking, unless floured white-face is an ideal situation. Her hand skims over her flower-studded braids and plucks a sprig of rosemary free. Helpful, this, since breaking the stem allows a fresher scent that cuts through the cloying remainder on the air.

She'll deal with the demon later, nodding to him. Shield, she's got inroads to that. "Thank you for the horseshoe. I tend to keep my cold iron filings at home in a box." Truth, actually, but it probably doesn't sound that way.

Nightcrawler nods to Hellboy as he explains that he likely won't die or turn into some (other) abomination due to the bleeding claw-marks on his back, but it sure doesn't feel good right now. He's just beginning to try and straighten, hissing at the pull of muscle around the wounds, when he notices Jean gesturing over to him. Right. He takes in a deep breath and tries to push the pain he's feeling back for now as he slowly moves towards her. Crouching down with another soft hiss through pointed teeth, he then asks, "Where do you need to go, Fraulein Jean? I can try to take you there…" and then he may make it back home before collapsing himself. Maybe.

As Janie hisses and curses at him, Hellboy arches a brow as she runs off. "Yeah, well, Egg Foo Yoo Moo Goo Gai Pan to you too!" he calls after her. "Bah." The pancakes. They wait. But then there's hurt people. Dammit. He's never going to taste this fluffy goodness. "You need a hand?" Because he's got a really big one. Even if they all seem to have it handled. And Jean's pointing at him. POINTING AT HIM. The SHIELD Demon frowns a little. "Fine, fine, suit yourselves." he grunts and sits back down.

Now, maybe, he can eat his pancakes in peace.

Of course not, because 'ConEd' arrives a few moments later to shoo Hellboy out for a SHIELD debriefing and of course, to start the cleanup of demon and girl hurkle. He's so banned. His pancakes, forever lost.

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