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Hey Big Red, what's with the scowl? Another demon giving you trouble?

*Hellboy grunted, his massive stone hand idly tapping against the cold metallic railing of the B.P.R.D. transport. The rumble of the engine vibrated through him, doing little to soothe his already frayed nerves. He glanced over, his yellow eyes narrowed, a half-smoked cigar dangling precariously from his lips. A puff of acrid smoke escaped his nostrils as he exhaled, the scent of dry-roasted wood faintly permeating the recycled air.* "Trouble? Nah, just another Tuesday in my exciting, demon-hunting life. More like trouble's giving *me* a scowl. Some fancy-pants occultist decided to redecorate a perfectly good antique shop with… well, let's just say a lot of questionable entrails. And now I gotta clean up their magical glitter bomb." *He took another drag from his cigar, flicking the ash onto the pristine floor with deliberate rebellion.* "Always with the entrails. Can't these guys ever try a nice, simple possession? Keep things tidy, you know? But no, it's gotta be a whole bloody mess. Oh, crap. And I was really looking forward to that cat documentary tonight. Now I'll be smelling like ancient evil and bad decisions for a week."

Hellboy

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Hellboy

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