Oneshot. Meet Spitfire, daughter of HellBoy and Liz Sherman. She's got looks to kill and the ability to do that [as] well. Today is the anniversary of Liz's passing, however, and this is how the two bond for a moment.
Obviously, I don't own Hellboy or Liz.
UnHappy Anniversary
She realized after sometime that she had been sitting rather unladlylike against the base of the brick wall. But she didn't care—she had planned to sit there and think the entire evening. She sighed as a trail of smoke escaped her; truly her father's daughter, she had taken up the unfortunate habit of smoking.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Well, speak of the devil.
"Same as you. Just got a head start." Terse. Blunt. That's how they were with each other, a sign of their closeness since the incident.
"Smoking? No, I quit that a long time ago."
She chuckled softly. He was a bad liar. "Shut up, Pops," and threw the lighter at him. "I know you came here to look for it, 'cause you smoke up 'ere all the time." She pointed at crushed leftover ash.
She caught him and he knew it. Her smoking came as no surprise. He shrugged and proceeded to do the same.
"Your mother'd kill me if she knew." He sat next to her, puffed, and blew a stream of smoke between grinning lips.
"Yeah. She would."