RED RIGHT HAND .

              ❝     what ?    ❞        hellboy frowned down at the princess , as if that suggestion alone was ridiculous . never mind his thorn shirt or the dents left upon his right hand or the particularly unpleasant wound decorating his left cheekbone ; hellboy would never admit defeat to anyone around him  (  specially not to those he wished to impress  )  . he was a big mean looking guy ! his job was to reassure his colleagues that he had their backs covered . if he were to show , even if just a glimpse , of weakness , what sort of comfort would that bring to someone like nuala ?  if someone like him couldn’t protect people like her , THEN WHAT WAS HE GOOD FOR ? nah , hellboy could handle whatever they’d throw at him . those flying screeching sirens he had just taken on ? piece of cake . could have beaten them up with his eyes closed . BUT HE DID LOOK LIKE A MESS . and he was struggling to catch his breath after that fight .

                                    he pressed the tip of his fingers against his upper lip . it felt warm . nuala was right . he was bleeding .        ❝     ah , crap .    ❞        the pain came in waves . the sirens’ talons had sunk into hellboy’s skin like fishing hooks and only now did he begin to realize the depths which they had reached . the burning of the night air touching fresh wounds wasn’t unfamiliar to him , but it was still unpleasant . red wanted to lay down . wanted to wince , to curl up in bed and maybe , in the depths of his isolation and ONLY THEN , shed a tear or two . allow the pain and fatigue to bury him . allow himself to feel smaller than he was . to feel fragile and mortal .   ━━    to feel human . but whenever he looked down at nuala’s wide golden eyes , staring up at him in that perpetual state of both sympathy and weariness , he realized that THAT WAS NOT THE TIME . for her sake , he couldn’t indulge in the pain lingering right beneath his skin . so he cleaned the blood off his fingers against his ruined shirt , winked and gave the princess a small nudge with his gigantic right hand .         ❝     hey , good thing red looks good on me .    ❞                

                  the  smack  on  his  left  hand  cut  hellboy  mid  action  ,  causing  his  arm  to  immediately  pull  away  from  the  microscope  sitting  on  the  counter  like  he  had  been  STRUCK  BY  LIGHTING  .  bruce  banner’s  sudden  act  of  violence  had  startled  red  .  not  everyone  dared  approaching  a  creature  like  him  so  recklessly  .  craniums  had  been  cracked  through  for  smaller  offenses  .  heck  ,  just  last  week  hellboy  had  headbutted  his  way  through  a  wall  to  make  sure  he  got  taco  tuesday’s  last  taco  before  manning  .  everyone  knew  by  now  that  the  paranormal  agent  had  a  short  temper  and  that  he  seemed  to  enjoy  acting  on  impulses  .  still  ,  instead  of  receiving  that  slap  with  a  clench  of  his  jaw  or  the  rise  of  his  RED  RIGHT  FIST  ,  the  bprd  agent  just  stood  there  ,  dumbfounded  ,  staring  down  at  the  smaller  man  as  if  he  were  traumatized  .    hellboy  slowly  pressed  the  assaulted  hand  against  his  chest  ,  letting  the  crucifix  he  wore  around  his  wrist  gently  brush  against  his  stomach  .  father  had  never  hit  him  .  he’d  just  ground  him  or  make  sure  he  knew  how  DISAPPOINTED  he  was  whenever  hellboy  messed  up  .  he  figured  that  hurt  a  whole  lot  more  than  a  slap  on  the  wrist  .  but  whatever  information  doctor  banner  spoke  after  fell  on  deaf  ears  .  he  was  a  hellish  creature  ,  yes  ,  the  right  hand  of  doom  ,  the  beast  that  would  bring  forth  the  apocalypse  …  but  most  of  all  ,  hellboy  was  a  terribly  childish  man  .