9344/Demon Incognito

Demon Incognito
Date of Scene:	29 December 2021
Location:	Sailor Pub and Bar
Synopsis:	Hellboy and Satana talk 'shop' in a bar? Yeah, close enough.
Cast of Characters:	Hellboy, Satana Hellstrom

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Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy is...not a mutant. He technically shouldn't belong in Mutant Town, and yet, here, people are more accepting of the demon than among baseline humans. He ducks and side-steps into the room. The jukebox plays something old enough to not be popular, anymore, but not old enough to be an oldie. A small handful of young people who definitely don't look human congregate around it. Hellboy smiles and gives a fistbump to someone that has enough of an exoskeleton to look like a blue crab or lobster. "Hey," the two exchange before the blue guy goes out and Hellboy heads toward the bar.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
What steps into the bar looks all too human. This doesn't mean much, of course. Lots of mutants are human-passing. What is more telling, however, is the reaction of the other patrons. Known mutants would warrant a look. A greeting. Or just a glance followed by indifference.

This is different.

The redhead with the odd hornlike cowlicks in her hair enters, radiating sensuality, walking like each step is designed to only show off her form. She pauses to take in the ambiance before making her way circuitously to the bar, route seemingly selected to maximize her exposure to the clientele.

Exposure is the name of the game in her choice of clothing as well.

In any other bar there would be staring. Of intrigue or of jealousy. This being a mutant bar, the staring is of undisguised hostility. The fatal words are murmured: "Slumming it." She's not IDed as a known mutant, so she must be one of the pretty things that occasionally go on "adventures" into Mutant Town.

Some of the ... darker ... elements of the community are already appearing to plot something related to her. She, however, seems completely oblivious.

"Metaxa please," she asks in a thrilling contralto that enters the ear, shivers its way down spines to curl up at the base before finally fading away. "Whole bottle."

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy notices it, but his reaction is something entirely different to a normal human reaction. He furrows that heavy brow and blinks a few times. There was something familiar about the way that voice tickled his eardrum. Turning, the demon looks at the woman with the devil-horn cowlicks. His narrowed gaze seems to attempt to find something about her that's not immediately evident. He's not lusting after her; he's sizing her up. However, before things get awkward, he inclines his head slightly and says, "Hey."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Hello again," the woman says, turning to partially face Hellboy. "Anung Un Rama. A.k.a. Hellboy?" she adds, leaning forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. She winks languidly, her tongue making an appearance as she wets her lips. "We've met. Did you and your friends ever find Gargravem? Was she as much trouble as I'd predicted?"

Leaning back and changing the focus of her display in the process, she continues in a more normal voice.

"I told you then that I thought it best if we ... cooperated somewhat, having, as it were, intersecting, but not identical interests. I haven't heard from you. My fault really. I didn't have a phone then."

She pulls a phone out, though with the outfit she has on it's unclear where from.

"This time I have one. So we can exchange numbers and if you need heavy firepower, you can call me and we can make arrangements. If I need a tall, strapping demon who's good in a brawl, I can call you and do the same. It's all very above board and honest."

Her Metaxa arrives, and Satana takes it from the bartender's hand, momentarily touching him and staring in his eyes. "This is a gift for me, isn't it?" she asks sweetly, to which the bartender wholeheartedly agrees before walking off dazed.

"So, shall we talk business?" Her attention is back on her far larger companion.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy has his moment of realization as she's speaking that he does, in fact, know this woman. He shakes his head no as she suggests business. "I'm off the clock," he says. Furrowing his brow again, he looks her over, this time looking at her whole outfit, though still not falling for whatever aura she's emitting that everyone else seems to be falling into. "You look well," he tries. Of course, the common thing is to say someone looks good, but as he looks over the woman with her hair in horns, that word is the farthest thing from his mind. He continues his sentence, "but asking me for my number? You sure you want me for my brawling skill?" he teases.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Oh, darling," Satana laughs. "I'm open to all kinds of arrangements, but when last we spoke you were not receptive to my chief interests."

Her voice drops a half-octave, taking on a bit of a purr.

"Has that changed?..."

She winks, equal parts amusement and mischief.

"If so, perhaps the nature of this conversation will change and will require a change of venue. I presume they have a supply closet somewhere?"

Her head cranes around as if searching for something, right down to the hand that doesn't have the bottle shading her eyes.

Back to normal in her voice then. "No, I'm quite satisfied with simple exchanges of single services. The kind that would ordinarily be done via summons and contracts, but..." Her hand rests on Hellboy's forearm briefly. "...that's really a rude thing among our kind to just summon and compel. What are we? Humans?"

The shudder is performative and eye-catching.

"No, let's just talk like adults. I know for a fact that you sometimes need firepower that you yourself cannot bring to bear. I can supply this. Right down to ... enchantments. On that piece you carry at your side, for example. On the other hand, there are things I need to deal with that I can't simply burn out of existence, suck the soul of, or otherwise deal with safely without breaking a nail. You would be very helpful. So I propose simple exchanges."

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy shakes his head. "Still not interested," he responds. "Just playing along, and you talk a lot." He picks up the mug of beer in front of him and chugs it down. He thumps the mug down on the bar, sniffs, and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "So, give me your number, then," he concludes.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
If Satana is disappointed it doesn't show in her eyes.

It shows in everything else. Posture. Voice. Body language. But not the eyes.

"Pity," she murmured. "Mortals are so ... breakable."

Shaking her red tresses she snaps out of the reverie. "Well, here you go then," she says, tapping the screen of her phone and holding it out. "Just tap your phone on mine, Anung. The app will transfer automatically. Then I'm a button press away from being in contact."

Placing the phone down on the bar she opens her bottle and starts guzzling from it.

"I believe that group in the corner there wishes me harm when I exit. I should look convincingly tippy, don't you think?" she asks with a wink as she waits for Hellboy to tap.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy pulls a phone from somewhere in that nebulous longcoat of his. He taps it with a little look of suspicion against the other phone. He looks at the screen as a notification pops up. He looks grumpily at the screen, then slides it away and looks at her again. "Missed out," he says. "Folded paper with hearts drawn on it, writing it on my hand, shooting me a cute text." He shakes his head. "Touching phones is boring," he says, turning back toward the bar. "Whatever," he concludes. "You can handle yourself. Nobody in here could hurt you if they wanted to," he surmises, possibly even correctly.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The hand on the forearm slides up to the shoulder for an affectionate, lingering squeeze.

"It's not danger to me that I'm considering," she says with a chuckle, after downing another large guzzle before sitting the half-empty bottle onto the bar. "Rest is yours. I don't like to drink on an empty stomach."

Her eyes glow red briefly before she suppresses it.

"I have some sinners to collect."

Lurching as if stumbling drunk, now, she heads back to the door, waving unsteadily at Hellboy before she staggers outside. Sure enough, the table she'd indicated suddenly emptied, leaving behind money for their drinks as they followed after their predator, mistakenly believing themselves in that role.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy shakes his head and picks up the bottle. She's already gone when he says, "Until my bosses send me after you," almost as if a parting to her, though it clearly can't be as she's, again, already gone.