Pancakes

[hellshaped]

Who: Hellboy and YOU
What: Hellboy (on a loss) desires pancakes. He probably could use some help.
When: Lunchtime, prime pancake time
Where: Kitchen
Rating: the babyest rating possible, he is a baby
Note: Prose or actionspam, I'll follow your lead!

Hellboy had been enjoying his time back in the castle. The snow was fun, and he managed to avoid all the weird people so far, since mostly he'd been hanging out with Molotov or exploring the grounds.

But he was getting hungry.

So, if anyone were to step inside the kitchen, they might notice that every inch of it seems to be dusted in a fine powder of flour. There are also broken eggs scattered about, some chocolate chips on the floor, and an open container of milk just sitting on the counter.

The culprit is probably this little red person with horns and a tail, who has found a footstool and is standing over the stove with a skillet in his massive right hand. By the almost cartoonish way he is scratching his head, it should be pretty obvious he's trying to figure out how to turn on the burners.

Children and stoves are probably not a very good idea. And when the child in question is this messy, it's probably the worst idea ever.

Comments

[hellshaped]

[He just nods solemnly and hands it over. Teach him your ways, pancake-bringer.]

[bezazzled]

[Allow her a moment to roll up her sleeves with some bravado. She stands a bit on her tip toes, even though she doesn't really need to, but it also adds to the show.

She takes the can, and squirts the batter into the shape of a heart.]

Heart-shaped pancake! You can also write letters and stuff. Pretty much make them any shape you want.

[hellshaped]

[OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHH

Hellboy bounces excitedly, because that is the greatest pancake-related thing he's ever seen.]

Any shape? Let me try!

[bezazzled]

[She hands the can back over to him with a proud grin.]

Whoa there, tiger. Don't get so excited that you miss the pan entirely!

[hellshaped]

[He actually does just that. There is now pancake batter on the wall.]

Oh. Whoops.

[bezazzled]

[SIGH. Kids these days. She simply huffs and looks around for a dishrag.]

See, that's what you were not supposed to do. We're trying to limit the mess making! The last thing you want is people going around saying, "You know who made a mess in the kitchen?"

[It's at that point she stops and turns back toward him.]

Hey, who are you, anyway?

[hellshaped]

[He is a messy little kid, so sue him...!!!]

Pfft. Anybody could have made this mess. They'll never pin it on me, sister.

[He blinks at the question, then smiles in what should probably be a pretty familiarly weird-looking smile.] I'm Hellboy! What's your name?

[bezazzled]

[Yes, yes it is quite familiar. What is going on.]

[bezazzled]

Hellboy.

[She just... says it. This is not what a Hellboy looks like. A Hellboy most certainly is a million times taller than this and doesn't go around making messes in the kitchen. She is one million percent sure of this.]

[hellshaped]

[That's some fancy detective work there, Mabel.

Hellboy stares at her for a second. His face is too dumb to portray the confusion he is feeling so he just stares instead.]

Yes ...?

[bezazzled]

Is there more than one Hellboy? Because the one I know is like, this tall.

[She stretches her hand as high as she can. It's still not tall enough, so she gets on her tip toes.]

Well, taller than that, too.

[hellshaped]

[Squint...]

No ... I never met anybody else named that.

[bezazzled]

[There can't be TWO Hellboys, can there? Plus he looks more like a Hellbaby. Kind of like if HB was shrunk down to tiny friend status and shave off some decades.

And then she gets it.

Her eyes widen. She stands straighter. Her head lifts as if she's staring off into space, where the answer to this question has been hiding all long.]

OH MY GOSH, you're on a loss!

[hellshaped]

[Hellbaby gives her a very skeptical look. He is skeptical.]

I'm fine. I'm not a kitten or forgot who I was or anything. Maybe you're on a loss. [HUFF.]

[bezazzled]

[The skepticism knows no bounds!!]

Uh, no. You're most definitely on a loss. It's one of those age ones. Trust me, bro, you're usually a million times taller and a lot tidier. [She bites her lip] Actually, I don't know if you're any tidier, but I would hope cleanliness would come with age.

[hellshaped]

[PLEASE. Hellboy keeps looking at her with so much skepticism.]

You're crazy. I think I'd know if I was a million times taller.

[Then he takes the can of batter and just kind of

sprays it into his mouth. Still looking at her incredulously the whole time. YEAH. Take that.]

[bezazzled]

[HELLBABY NO, that's not how you eat it! Mabel cringes at that.]

Ugh, at least cook it first! It's not like it's cookie dough!

[She places a hand on her forehead.]

Okay, never mind. Nobody on a loss ever believes someone when they tell them they're on a loss.

[hellshaped]

[WANNA FIGHT ABOUT IT don't judge him. Don't judge him!!!

Mouth full of pancake batter, he just makes a face at her. So mature.]

THIS IS REALLY OLD

[bezazzled]

[Two can play that game! She makes a face right back at him. And then she huffs because she remembers she has to take the mature road here.]

Okay, look. Do you want real pancakes or not? If you wanna get a stomach ache later, that's just your business, but just tell me if I should keep cooking these things or not.

shhh it's still acceptable

[hellshaped]

[He seems to deeply consider this.....

Hmm............

And then he eats some more batter. Awesome.]

[bezazzled]

UUUUGH.

[Clearly frustrated, she throws her hands up in the air before folding them across her chest and sulking against the counter. He is so going to pay for that when his stomach turns on him.

From the corner of her eye she spots a can of whipped cream. Whatever, Hellbaby! She's just going to eat this whipped cream straight from the can. DISAPPOINTINGLY.]

[hellshaped]

[WAIT...............

That looks like a much better idea. He looks at her intently!!!]

Can we trade?

[bezazzled]

Seriously?

[She has every intention of telling him NO, but then reconsiders. If she gives him the whipped cream, he'll spare his stomach from the batter. Look at these mature decisions she's making!]

Fine. Let's trade, but no trade-backs.

[hellshaped]

[This is super mature, Mabel. Once he's back to normal, he will be so proud!

Right now though, he just makes a small, dismissive sound and holds the can of batter out.]

I promise.

[bezazzled]

[She just gives him a look for a moment longer... and then quickly makes the switch before he can change his mind.]

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do this the right way.

[And she'll just turn her attention toward spraying the batter onto the skillet. You know, actually cooking pancakes!]