1) "... What exactly is your area of expertise?" Hellboy snapped and suddenly it didn't matter that Myers had topped his class at Quantico, been hand-selected by the Director. His being here was for naught if his assignment clearly thought he was a waste of oxygen. If said assignment weren't a walking wall of muscle with a stone fist and the wrong idea about his intentions, Myers might have dared to say something. Instead, he bit his tongue and headed for the library.
2) Myers watched Hellboy shovel the umpteenth slice of jalapeno-laden pizza into his mouth and absently wondered when Hellboy would begin exhaling vapours of steam.
"Then she said we could use a break. They're sending her ta New Mexico, ain't that enough?"
Myers shifted in the expectant pause and glanced side-long at the footage of Liz playing on endless loop on Hellboy's television sets. He hesitated too long and Hellboy threw his empty pizza box to the growing pile with a sigh. "Hand me the Tabasco, would ya, Myers?"
The next day, Hellboy complained on the new topic of his stomach.
3) The bar wasn't his normal scene, too crowded, dim, and he had to shout for Liz to hear a word he said, but it was she who insisted to come. Hellboy had tried arguing the matter until he spotted Myers attempting to make himself invisible over her shoulder.
Why did he have to be dragged into everything?
"Hey, sweetheart, why don't you come over to the bar and I'll buy you a drink?" The stranger leered at Liz, smiling broadly. The man stuck his hand in the pocket of his tight, faded jeans and the beer in his hand sloshed over the rim of its glass. He looked older than Manning.
Myers glanced at Liz and quashed any notions he had of stepping in when he saw the light in her eyes. Here, at least, he didn't have to get involved.
4) Clearing his throat, Myers waved a hand to clear his breathing space of Hellboy's cigar smoke. "So, we'll have the advantage if we split up and come in from the side entrances and the back," Myers glanced round the circle of agents and gestured at the relevant areas on the warehouse blueprint as their transport rolled up to their destination.
Hellboy looked down his nose at the plans and continued to puff in Myers' general direction. Myers coughed and threw him a look.
The other agents nodded in approval as the truck came to a stop and Hellboy pulled out the Samaritan. "All of you - what he said," Hellboy nodded at his liaison who, all but beamed. It wasn't often that Hellboy actually listened -
"I'm going through the front door," Hellboy announced and leaped from the truck.
Unimpressed, but unsurprised, Myers muttered to himself and motioned for the other agents to follow him.
5) In retrospect, he should have measured the wisdom of playing poker with an expressionless empath, but he'd started this and he was damned if he wasn't going to win back some of what he'd lost. There was no way Myers had the time to reshelve all those books, or take care of the innumerable responsibilities his losses had heaped on him.
Abe hummed some country tune as he tapped the table and Myers straightened, scrutinizing his own cards harshly. They both looked up as the doors to Section 51's library swung open and Hellboy strode in, stopping when he saw them at the desk. Spotting the cards in their hands, the line of his back relaxed and a smile lifted his features.
"'Go Fish'?"
"Poker," Abe said brightly.
Hellboy gave a bark of laughter. "Nice knowing ya, Myers."
Hellboy: Five Times Myers Should/Could Have Said Something But Didn't
2) Myers watched Hellboy shovel the umpteenth slice of jalapeno-laden pizza into his mouth and absently wondered when Hellboy would begin exhaling vapours of steam.
"Then she said we could use a break. They're sending her ta New Mexico, ain't that enough?"
Myers shifted in the expectant pause and glanced side-long at the footage of Liz playing on endless loop on Hellboy's television sets. He hesitated too long and Hellboy threw his empty pizza box to the growing pile with a sigh. "Hand me the Tabasco, would ya, Myers?"
The next day, Hellboy complained on the new topic of his stomach.
3) The bar wasn't his normal scene, too crowded, dim, and he had to shout for Liz to hear a word he said, but it was she who insisted to come. Hellboy had tried arguing the matter until he spotted Myers attempting to make himself invisible over her shoulder.
Why did he have to be dragged into everything?
"Hey, sweetheart, why don't you come over to the bar and I'll buy you a drink?" The stranger leered at Liz, smiling broadly. The man stuck his hand in the pocket of his tight, faded jeans and the beer in his hand sloshed over the rim of its glass. He looked older than Manning.
Myers glanced at Liz and quashed any notions he had of stepping in when he saw the light in her eyes. Here, at least, he didn't have to get involved.
4) Clearing his throat, Myers waved a hand to clear his breathing space of Hellboy's cigar smoke. "So, we'll have the advantage if we split up and come in from the side entrances and the back," Myers glanced round the circle of agents and gestured at the relevant areas on the warehouse blueprint as their transport rolled up to their destination.
Hellboy looked down his nose at the plans and continued to puff in Myers' general direction. Myers coughed and threw him a look.
The other agents nodded in approval as the truck came to a stop and Hellboy pulled out the Samaritan. "All of you - what he said," Hellboy nodded at his liaison who, all but beamed. It wasn't often that Hellboy actually listened -
"I'm going through the front door," Hellboy announced and leaped from the truck.
Unimpressed, but unsurprised, Myers muttered to himself and motioned for the other agents to follow him.
5) In retrospect, he should have measured the wisdom of playing poker with an expressionless empath, but he'd started this and he was damned if he wasn't going to win back some of what he'd lost. There was no way Myers had the time to reshelve all those books, or take care of the innumerable responsibilities his losses had heaped on him.
Abe hummed some country tune as he tapped the table and Myers straightened, scrutinizing his own cards harshly. They both looked up as the doors to Section 51's library swung open and Hellboy strode in, stopping when he saw them at the desk. Spotting the cards in their hands, the line of his back relaxed and a smile lifted his features.
"'Go Fish'?"
"Poker," Abe said brightly.
Hellboy gave a bark of laughter. "Nice knowing ya, Myers."
Myers focused on his cards.