4085/A Singing Banshee and a Drinking Demon

A Singing Banshee and a Drinking Demon
Date of Scene:	09 November 2020
Location:	Josie's Bar
Synopsis:	Hellboy gives it a shot (or three) and gets shouted down. Not as loudly as he could have been though.
Cast of Characters:	Siobhan Smythe, Hellboy

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Siobhan Smythe has posed:
The light strumming of a guitar comes from a corner where a short haired woman, her hair as white as the shirt she wears. She has a light song playing for a bit of live music to try and draw extra people for an afternoon/early evening drink and food. She is actually coming to the end of her set while another waits to hop up.

"Put on my pj's and hop into bed
I'm half alive but I feel mostly dead
I try to tell myself it'll be alright
I just shouldn't think anymore tonight
'Cause
Dreams last for so long
Even after you're gone
I know that you love me
And soon you will see
You were meant me...and I was meant for you."

Her accent, a strong Irish Brogue, flows into the music. Clearly coming through and yet not stealing from the original cadence of the music. Her voice flowing out for the last line and it almost feels like it moves around the room to every ear.

"Yeah, you were meant for me...and I was meant foorrrrr you..."

And slowly she lets it flow out before idly smiling at the few people who are there and clapping as she nods and thanks folks, starting to pack up.

Hellboy has posed:
There arn't really any dark corners in Josie's bar. The neon and the fairie lights see to that but over there in the corner there is a dimmer spot... and sitting in that dim spot is a shape, dark, squat... Its the trash can over by the pool table and it probably doesn't have anything to do with the story.

Now, over there at the bar is a figure that would be rather tall if not for his hunched figure. A battered coat, hair pulled back into an unironic manbun. His hairline drawn back just past the spot where a pair of boney, red stubs protrude... In fact, theres a lot of red going on... Like. A lot.

He glanced over his shoulder as those last lyrics calmed in the air. He wasb't one for clapping. Not that he didn't enjoy the song... but well... Things.

He fished a 20 from a coat pocket and left it beneath his newly emptied mug before he pushed away from the bar.

His footfalls didn't come with the soft shuffles and thumps of shoes but rather a scrap and trip trapping as he intruded... His voice rough and smokey like someone had stuffed sandpaper down his throat, "Hey... that was... Yeah that was pretty nice."

It was almost a 4 minute song... maybe longer if she took her time. A four minute song and that was the best he'd come up with was 'Pretty Nice.'

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A slow blink as she looks up from her putting away of a her guitar at what is approaching her. She blinks once and then shrugs before finishing but shifting the padding into place, closing the case up and starting to zip it shut, "Well, tank ya, I suppose." She states simply enough and idly puts her guitar to her shoulder to get out of the way of the next player even as she considers the massive...uh man in front of her. She's tall by many feminine standards but not that tall.

"I'll take any compliment dough I'm unclear of how well I should take it." She looks him over better, not as taken aback or weirded out as some might normally be, "Ye got a name to go with all that you ye be carryin' about?" She gestures to him and his, well, just big, "I'm Siobhan Smythe, as a note."

Hellboy has posed:
Long ago, off the coast of scotland on a rainy island a man picked up what looked to be a naked, red-skinned monkey with a lump of stone at the end of one arm and bless his heart, he gave the child a name.

"Hellboy."

"Promise, its on my drivers license and everything." Hellboy is often carded in bars. Partly because they don't think he's real, partly because they want to make sure he has a wallet.

He shifts his weight slightly anxiously under her scrutiny. Now if she flashed a knife or started speaking cryptic latin, he'd fall into groove and know what to do. As it was, he was at a slight loss. So he swept a hand over his half-bald pate and verbally stumbled, "Can I uh-" but she already had guitar case well in hand, so he took Option B, "buy you a drink?" he wore what he thought of as a winning smile, "You saying No won't pitch me off the deep end... Just wanted an excuse to talk to you." he confessed, hooking a thumb towards and unoccupied table.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A blink and she stares for a long moment at the big guy before saying, "Well, not sure if dis is the strangest offer I've e'er had but it certainly was unexpected." She gestures over toward the table and nods, "If you're buyin', I'm certainly not one for sayin' no." She grins and shrugs as she walks over to the table with him, leaning her guitar carefully and then settling down at the table with a nod to him, "Ye often come into bars and ask singers and guitarists over for a drink?" She asks even before he can say much more.

She then considers, "Also, whiskey if dey 'ave somet'in decent enough. I don't want any of dat American made Kentucky bourbon shite." She states simply enough, "I might 'ave only just gotten old enough to drink state side but dose rules don't follow in Ireland."

Hellboy has posed:
"Oh yeah, all the time." he answered with an expressive gesture of his hand, "Had someone play, 'Hey Jude' the other month and I asked them to step outside." it was a joke but it might not have been a lie. Difficult to tell when someone's got a face firt for a box of Red Hots.

She lays out the rules of engagement and he agrees with a nod, "I'll see what she's got in the good shelfs." He raps the table with the knuckles of the hand that don't look like he hauled it out of a cement mixer and trip trapped over to the bar. He returned, three shots of whiskey and another beer for himself. He laid them out infront of her, one after the other and then took his place across the table from her... the chair creaked quietly as it accepted his frame.

"Ireland, that's what you said, right?" he had a keen mind that held tenaciously to information she had divulged... two minutes ago. "Been there a few times... differet kind of history in it than here. Different rules, things that don't make sense of here seem a lot easier to swallow over there." he prattled roughly, pausing to take a drink... He had an intent. He wasn't being blunt about it but he was skirting something.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A smirk as she hears him and then she laughs a little. She shrugs idly as he walks over to the bar and waits for him to produce the shots and then she gestures to them, idly touching the first, "If my friends were to find out I was off drinkin' like dis, dey'd be upset." She chuckles and takes the first shot like it were not even her 100th time. She drops the thing down, upside down and lets out a contented sigh, "Sometimes it is da only ting dat helps with, well..." SHe looks up at him with a smirk, "I got demons." She shrugs.

"Well, hope dat me homeland treated ya well enough." She nods her head, "It's a beautiful place but it has its dark corners."

Hellboy has posed:
A thought hit him. It hit him and stuck deep, a barb holding it fast. Concern flashes across his face. It's there in the slight slackening of his considerable jaw, a softening around his eyes. "Woah, hold on-" any pretense or alterior motives are forgotten for a moment, set aside and made to wait their turn as he brings that big right hand of his and makes a wall around the two remaining tiny glasses. His fingers curled, a moment away from dragging them towards himself dependent on her answer, "I'm not dragging you off the wagon here, am I?"

"I know I've got the look but I'm not here to try and set anyone back a few steps... You need me to get you a pop or something instead?"

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A chuckle and she shakes her head, "Nah, I don't 'ave a drinkin' problem. Just, my friends probably wouldn't exactly approve of me usin' drinks to quiet some of the louder problems." She nods her head and then shrugs, "Ye aren't takin' me away from any wagon I don't want to be on." She then idly touches her hand to the top of his big stony hand, "Besides all dat, dere are few who could really stop me from doin' anytin' I didn't wanna do." She nods her head, "No matter how big deir hand might be."

Hellboy has posed:
His shoulders relaxed beneath that beat up coat. His concerns assuaged as his gaze drifted... Without visible pupils, it was difficult to gauge where he was looking at but his chin dipped slightly and his face turned as he regarded her hand on his bit of masonry, fingers curling just so, thumb shifting... and then stilling. It was stone, cold rock. If anything in her spoke to anything in it... in him. It was exactly what it was.

He drew the hand slightly away, laying it flat on the tabletop. "Y'know... something tells me you're not bluffing about that." His smile was rueful, crooked.

"I understand your friends... They're right." he utters, train of thought jarred onto another track as he slips his left hand through the grip of his beer, "Somethings you've gotta get through with tooth, claw, and a stiff jaw but ever now and then, you need a god damned break."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A nod and she takes the second shot like a champ before dropping it down, once more upside down and then she lets out a sigh, "Yeah, well, to me, it doesn't really pay to bluff too often." She states simply and looks up at the big man, "Ye really can only get away wit' it so many times before ye end up havin' to show your hand and..." She shrugs before she leans back in her chair, leaving hte last shot sittin' on the table, "So, what's a big Hellboy like you wantin' to speak to a girl like me?" She asks and idly shifts slightly, "I know I've been playin' around New York City and Metropolis for a few months now but I'm no where near famous enough for autographs." She chuckles and nods her head.

"So, what ya wantin'? Seein' if you can get me number or somet'in'?" She chuckles softly, "I mean, just on the pure fascination of havin' ye in my phone you might win dat one." She nods her head, "You certainly are a unique one. Ya might even 'ave me beat in dat department and I assure ya, I beat most."

Hellboy has posed:
His features break into a quiet, smokey laugh, eyes drifting back to her, "Maybe not an autograph but d'ya got a CD?" he wondered... Were those out of date yet? "Soundcloud... casette tape?" he thinks those came back into fashion for a hot minute, but he's not sure how! He takes another drink resting the mug on the table again, shifting idly. He seemed to chew on a thought for a moment, jaw firming, lips thinning... He really wasn't good at this. Things aughta be clear. Clearer at least. "I'm not going to sit here and lie to your face, telling you the idea didn't cross my mind... but no. No that ain't it." the charm and warmth ebbed after the pause. "I was told. Told to come here, watch you. Give a listen. It was supposed to be smoother, clandestine... but like you're seeing, I'm as smooth as an unpathed street but at least I'm twice as pretty."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A blink and she tilts her head, "I do 'ave a youtube channel I don't use as often as I should but..." She listens to him and blinks as she tilts her haed, "Watch me and give a listen?" She asks and tilts her head as she shifts some slightly, "I'm really confused." She states and tilts her head, "I mean, I'm not exactly sayin' I'm totally surprised but it does make me wonder who or what might want ye keepin' an eye on me."

Hellboy has posed:
"Yeah?" there's a genuine warmth to his voice, head lifting as he asks, "What's you're- No, right. Hold on, hold on." he snaps from pleasure back to business, plucking at his coat with stoney fingertips, his other hand patting the air stallingly before it dips into his coat and rummages around, lips moving idly as he mutters. Things rustle and shift, a bell chimes, tinkling faintly. The sound brings peaceful thoughts to mind... and then he makes a sound of discovery.

His hand pulls free and in it is a circle, some sort of badge or a patch. He slaps it onto the sleeve of his right arm. A black circle, a hand grasping a sword, a squat triangle at the wrist...

He sits, dead-faced for a moment... but then glances towards the patch himself, right arm shifting, "Ah hell, hold on, gimme another second."

The badge comes away with the sound of velcro. A moment of rummaging later and he slaps another emblem in place. Another circle, this time its just a bird..., white on a field of black, wings spread. A stars and stripe shield upon its breast... so... Yeah, SHIELD, all capital letters.

He poises himself once more, largehand curling around his beer, lesser gripping the handle... He waits, glances once more just to be sure and then nods to himself in affirmation.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A blink as she watches him, her head tilting as she watches him rummage about. She stares at the first patch, tilting her head in confusion before she looks then to him pull out various patches till finally it all becomes clear as he pulls out hte SHIELD batch. She stares at it a moment and then a look of betrayal followed by a look of anger and she grinds her teeth. There's a rumble through the whole damn bar as her eyes actually glow like dead lights. Like the light that everyone says they see upon dying.

Only, it's far more horrible.

She makes an annoyed groan even as her eyes return to normal and she looks up at him< "I help dem out and dis is da tanks I get?" She stands up and grabs the last shot of whiskey and downs it before slamming it down hard enough to crack the shot glass, "Put dat on your damnable expense report." And then she turns and walks toward the exit.

Hellboy has posed:
BEFORE

"And what am I supposed to do if she raises her voice?"?

Hellboy has posed:
BEFORE

"And what am I supposed to do if she raises her voice?" Hellboy asked his handler, peering up at the projection.
The Handler gave a dry smile, "We've projected that you'll regain most of your hearing in a day or two."

NOW

Hellboy sat, feeling like a heel but he sat ready, his Hand cupped around his glass in a unneeded but futile attempt to safeguard his drink.

The glassware rattled and pool balls shivered on the green felt or in whatever purgatory they lingered in between play. Easy enough to dismiss as a passing train... if you ignored the fact that there weren' any tracks around for a block or two.

He waited. It wouldn't have been his first wail but this close and in an enclosed space...? He doesn't break eye contact, jaw set...

But she spares him a weekend of that high-pitched ring and some broken bones. She gets ready to storm off and he rises up, Hand planted, other reached out towards, "Hey, hold on now, this isn't personal. Listen they've even got people keeping an eye on me and I'm in the damned thing!" he's not about to chase her down the street but if she's not out the door by the time he's done talking he'll try and smooth things over.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A look back briefly and Siobhan eyes him carefully before giving him the two finger salute. It's similar to a one finger salute in America but, well, ya know. She then slams the door on the way out and she's gone. Seems Hellboy...uh, succeeded? Failed? Well, he certainly watched her or something.