A/N: Thank you all for your patience. It has been way too long since I posted. Writing is my heart, but work tends to evaporate the muse most days. However, I think I have re-harnessed the creative juices. This was a lot of fun for me to write - and went on and on, as you will find out. Your kind words always warm the heart, so please don't think my silence means they fall on deaf ears. I just had a very difficult time framing this chapter into something different and, hopefully, interesting, while carrying the story closer to a satisfying, yet interesting end. Meaning, the next chapter should wrap everything up. At least, through my words.
As always, Hellboy and crew are not mine.
Water droplets slid down Hellboy's bare torso and his freshly washed hair – which lay plastered to his neck like long, wet tentacles – as he exited the bathroom and entered the hotel suite. Beads of moisture clung precariously to his sideburns and soul patch, gleaming in the lamp light, casting him in an almost ethereal glow. A nameless tune whistled past his lips, meandering down a happy path to a near-song. Tight black pants rode low on his hips and a white wife beater was thrown carelessly over his shoulder. His stomach let out a low rumble as he patted his belly fondly, reminding him that their dinner reservation was in an hour or so.
Hellboy had to admit that Torie did a great job in securing their accommodations. He was going to try the discount websites when they first began planning their month-long trek across the States, but Torie hopped on her cell phone, made a few calls, and procured some really great little hole-in-the-wall accommodations all along their route.
When Hellboy asked about the prices, Torie just smiled coyly, refusing to divulge any details. He knew it wasn't beyond her to try and pull some strings so that the money they had for traveling was actually spent on helping people in the towns they vacationed in – especially in her hometown of New Orleans. But Hellboy knew better than to press for details and instead focused on the experience of visiting the country with Torie. And while seeing roadside attractions and national monuments were beyond breathtaking with Torie at his side, it was the culmination of their vacation in New Orleans that he had spent the whole trip anticipating.
They traveled all across the country – to Cleveland, Ohio and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, featuring a Tom Waits exhibit; St. Louis, Missouri and the tiny pod they had to cram Hellboy into to get to the top of the Arch; then on to Omaha, Nebraska where they explored The Old Market arts and entertainment district; scooting out to Colorado and Mesa Verde National Park with the Anasazi Indian ruins; down to San Antonio, Texas and Hertzberg Museum, one of the largest circus museums in the world – and the site of an unsolved murder…
But it was as if the whole journey prior to New Orleans had been just a prelude.
When he thought of New Orleans, Hellboy instantly thought of the French Quarter. Topless women collecting beads from people tossing necklaces off balconies… oh, did he think of them – and fondly! But the city also conjured hurricanes, both the alcoholic and Mama Nature-provided kind. As well as mouth-watering cuisine… gumbo, jambalaya and po' boy sandwiches.
And the romance.
Despite his physical appearance and gruff personality to those on the outside of his emotional walls, Hellboy was a true romantic at heart. And being in what he perceived as one of the most romantic – as well as paranormal – cities he had ever investigated with the woman he loved was a dream come true. The curlicue wrought iron railings, the horse-drawn carriages, the dripping Spanish Moss... and the idea of Torie in a corset, peeling herself out an antebellum dress.
Ah… Torie in a corset…
Hellboy closed his eyes at the thought, his jaw muscles tightening and his tail cutting through the air in restless agitation. If they didn't have plans for the rest of the evening, Hellboy knew exactly how he would like to spend the rest of the night… and morning – christening the rooms Torie reserved. That was something they had yet to do, despite being in town for well over a week. Being in a damn sexy town with a damn sexy woman – and not being able to act on red-blooded impulses – was beginning to wear on him.
Although I just want to wear her on me.
Smack dab in the heart of the French Quarter, their rooms were just that – multiple rooms. There was a bathroom, a bedroom and a sitting room, plus a small kitchenette – all decked out with Southern charm. And despite the fact that the room overlooked the hedonistic mob on Bourbon Street, the suite was relatively quiet and very soothing. The almost two weeks that they had spent there had flown by, partly because it felt so comfortable and apartment-like, rather than stark and off-putting – like most normal hotel accommodations. Their rooms above Bourbon Street were an oasis of bliss in the sea of reality… but also footed the bill of his pre-conceived notions of the city perfectly.
Hellboy had been to New Orleans many a time in his day… mostly for investigations of a paranormal or nefarious vein – usually both… but occasionally for pleasure. But never had he experienced the city and surrounding areas like he did with Torie. Since they were acting as nomadic wanderers, despite having a somewhat planned itinerary, they became well versed in the use of Laundromats. Upon arriving in New Orleans, and in dire need of clean clothes, they ducked into a Laundromat and while their duds were spinning, Torie snuck past a beaded curtain that lead to another part of the building.
And so started the non-stop love-fest for Torie that was completely unplanned – but seemed to instantly overtake their whole visit to the city.
Torie was adamant as they slipped into a hallway that nearly every business had an alternate one in the back – and that it usually was like another world… and if you went in with an open mind, you were usually embraced. So, with apprehension, Hellboy creeped along behind his girlfriend, expecting his presence to elicit shrieks of terror as a towering red half-demon stumbled upon their private quarters…
…But the only shriek he heard was one of recognition between Torie and the woman she ran in to. Arms were thrown around each other and laughter echoed off the walls. Thus, the maelstrom of constant activity that followed for the next week or so was completely mind-boggling for Hellboy.
Everywhere they went, hands reached out to shake Torie's hand… or to pull her into an embrace. As much as a loner as she was in Fairfield, collecting his friends as her own, save for Monica in New York, Hellboy was blown away by the sheer volume of people Torie knew in New Orleans. From small cafes when they ducked in for a snack to Sunday mass at St. Louis Cathedral to the vampire tour Hellboy insisted they go on, Torie inevitably ran into people she not only knew, but shared some sort of history. Granted, in hindsight he felt like he should have known just how popular she was considering the turnout for Torie's staged funeral, but Hellboy had to wonder if she led some sort of double life since the Torie he was with in New Orleans was usually surrounded by a throng three people deep.
It was very disconcerting – and fabulous – experience, being the one that no one noticed.
Even Torie's drawl surfaced within moments of crossing the state line – and only got more pronounced the deeper they traveled south. The bayous and swamps sang their siren song to her just as much as the trolleys and jazz clubs. Even though they had toured the country via car, it wasn't until Torie parked in front of the home where he parents were killed that Hellboy finally got a glimpse of the gal she was prior to the murders. Because from that moment on, she was no longer Torie James, former Programs Director of a woman's shelter. Nor was she Dr. Victoria James, women's rights advocate and crusader for all. Rather, she was a persona he was not familiar with – someone her friends called Victorious, in playful, loving tones – an outgoing, gregarious near-stranger that was now his traveling partner.
But from what Hellboy could see, he thought the change was for the better. Even though she never seemed to tire – staying up until all hours and then rising with the sun to run the empty streets, reacquainting herself with all the different neighborhoods she used to roam.
However, at the moment, Torie was just a plain ol' flirt, smiling down at the passers-by who cat-called up to her. Hellboy reclined back against the overstuffed pillows as he flopped onto the wrought iron bed, sighing in contentment. From his vantage point, he was able to quietly observe Torie, who was leaning over the ornate wrought iron railing encircling their hotel balcony, as she watched the festivities below. Every so often, the fingers of her right hand would waggle in greetings to whoever shouted greetings up to her. But mostly, she stared out, quietly observing the ebb and flow of the crowds.
It was Spring and while they had missed the Mardi Gras festivities, Torie and Hellboy were not the only ones vacationing in New Orleans – although vacationing might be a bit of a misnomer for the other folks down in the streets below their lodgings. The French Quarter was filled with partiers looking for a cheaper, but no less exciting, version of the week-long celebration. And Torie and Hellboy felt like royalty looking down upon their subjects.
In fact, Torie is out there right now, a queen making nice with the commoners…
Bent over at the waist, Torie rested her forearms along the wrought iron railing framing the balcony. Hooking the toes of her right foot around the ankle of her left, Torie swayed her hips ever so slowly from side to side in time with the blues music that wafted through the night air. From his vantage point, Hellboy smiled to himself as the thought that Torie's ass looked heart-shaped stuffed in her jeans.
What I would give to peel them off of her though.
Torie had practically been insatiable the whole previous leg of the journey. Being on the road, and being someone that was not responsible for the entire world, made Torie as carefree and giddy as a schoolgirl – which equated into a playful and touchy-feely personality. In fact, there didn't seem to be a time when she was sated. Which suited Hellboy just fine. Which in turn made him very, very content.
And tired.
But it was a very nice tired to be. If one was going to be tired, what better place to lie than in the arms of the one who made you exhausted, a slight smile curving both your lips? However, he was used to being tired. But he was usually tired from beating the ever-lovin'-crap-out-of-monsters tired. And he would like to be the nice kind of tired again very, very soon. Rather than the doing-too-much-on-too-little-sleep kind of tired he was feeling. Especially since Torie was standing on the balcony, flirting with probably everyone that walked past, in a white wifebeater… without a bra on underneath. Just the idea of her chest swinging slightly within the confines of her top while the gents beneath could either see, or gather, what was behind the thin confines of her shirt material made Hellboy's chest swell with pride. Right along with the swelling in his pants.
Such thoughts were stirring him in ways that Torie would dismiss if he tried to act on them.
As she will – again – tonight. Especially since we are going to try to meet her parents after dinner.
Once Torie remembered that Hellboy could reanimate the dead, she latched onto the idea like a dog on a freshly procured bone. It wasn't so much that she wanted closure, although telling one, or both, of her parents that she loved them would be nice. But what she wanted more than anything was to let them know she was happy. And she wanted them to meet the reason for most of her happiness – Hellboy.
Hellboy actually was less than thrilled with the idea, mainly because Torie's parents would not look like themselves. Far from it. It was a difficult idea for most people to wrap their heads around – that their loved one looked, well, dead. But, more importantly, he was only able to reanimate the bodies of people with troubled souls. Now, being murdered in cold blood by a sibling might constitute dying with a distraught mentality, but since Torie's parents were normally jovial and giving, the likelihood of them being able to converse at all, let alone intelligently, was very minimal.
However, Torie would not be deterred. There was no way she could live with herself if they didn't try, she argued. And the way she pleaded, not with tears in her eyes, but with ice cold fingers laying upon his arm and her pulse beating a thousand miles a minute at the base of her throat, Hellboy was helpless but to acquiesce. He would do anything for the woman he loved. And, in the grand scheme of things, Torie wasn't asking for a lot.
Then it suddenly dawned on Hellboy that this was the first time – besides bedtime – that they were truly alone in days.
Kinda ironic she's outside, old man. Must be you're losing your touch.
But, truth be told, he was having a blast with her friends, despite the fact that they spent so much time with them. Torie ran with a great – and eclectic – crowd back in the day. And because of them, and their love for the woman he loved, Hellboy saw more of the city than he ever dreamed.
Two nights ago, he and Torie – along with a handful of her old college buddies – had dinner at the best little hole-in-the-wall seafood place that he had ever visited. After stuffing himself silly, and then laughing along with the group as he began to recite silly prose in an effort to explain just how happy the food made him, Torie and her friends drug him out onto the street, and then down an alley, until Hellboy landed in the coolest, most stereotypical jazz joint that he could have ever imagined.
Tiny chairs and tables were jam-packed together in a random hodgepodge, flanking a tiny wooden stage overflowing with well-worn instruments. The air was heady with the scent of decades of smoked cigarettes, bodies in close proximity and wood soaked with spilled drinks and good times. Framed pictures of celebrities and noted notables covered the walls, standing shoulder to shoulder. The lights were dim and everyone was either laughing or smiling.
And the moment the group walked into the joint, Torie was pried away from Hellboy's side – despite her protests – and drug up onto the stage.
A group of men, of various ages, were riffing on instruments, notes meandering through the air, making music but not consisting of songs. But once they saw her approaching, the musicians became very organized and broke out into a rousing rendition of "Ice Cream," teasing and bantering with Torie in an attempt to get her to harmonize with them.
After a few minutes of prompting, Torie grimaced, then picked a tambourine and began to sing. Something that completely floored Hellboy.
She… she… sings?
But not only did she soon relax, but Torie also got into playing the tambourine as she harmonized with the musicians, not only bouncing it against her hip, but also drumming it against her shoulder and elbow, putting on quite a show.
Torie winked at Hellboy as she sang:
"I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! Rah! Rah! Oogie de wawa rah rah rah! Tuesdays, Mondays, we all scream for sundaes, sis-boom-bah!"
"Boola-boola, sarsaparoolla, if you got chocolate, we'll take vanoola! I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! Rah! Rah! Ice cream soda or gingerale pop!"
So singing and even some dancing – Torie struck speechless when Hellboy took her hand in his when the band began to sing Stella by Starlight – carried them into the early hours of morning, where after a few short hours of sleep, they met up with a different group of friends for brunch.
After a while, it got dizzying.
Hellboy was pulled from his reminiscing, when something moved out of the corner of his eye and his attention suddenly was fixated on the balcony once again. With a languid stretch, Torie sighed deeply – as if wistful or lonely – and then pivoted on her heel, gracing Hellboy with a killer smile before entering the room. Halfway to the bed, Torie pulled her wifebeater up over her head and tossed it onto Hellboy's chest. Even in the low light, the metal adorning her breasts gleamed, making the viewing seem illicit – just like he always reacted. A groan of appreciation was his initial response, but then he emitted a long sigh, very much wistful.
Torie saw the look of longing, tinged with frustration, dance across Hellboy's features. And while she understood, and even felt his pain, her return to New Orleans was bittersweet. More so than she even imagined. The last time she had seen her parents alive seemed like it was a million years ago most days. Most days it didn't bother her. In fact, she took in stride that she now had a pair of guardian angels to watch over her.
But then, when she pulled the car up in front of the home she had occasionally grown up in, Torie was the same overwhelmed girl who felt the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders when she identified her parents remains at the morgue, when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sob. She was that girl once again when she pulled up to the curb, her breath caught in her throat as she fought back tears. Hellboy was the one who actually put the car into gear and turned off the engine.
The feeling poured over her like a waterfall once again – as she stared up at the house – but mixed with it was another… hope. There was a sudden pang of loneliness, but also one of gentle love. It hit her once Hellboy forced her out of the vehicle, by coming around to the driver side of the door and gently cupping her elbow, leading Torie to the sidewalk. The bright sunlight instantly cast everything in a more vivid hue, making Torie feel slightly dizzy.
Getting out of the car and standing in the front yard, Torie was confused. Yes, the loss of her parents hit her almost as hard as when she stepped into the cold, antiseptic morgue so many years ago, but after taking a deep breath, Torie realized that coming home was easier than she had been bracing for. The sadness she knew – it was like an old friend – but there was a sense of elation that never really surfaced when Torie thought of her folks.
And it continued on when they went to the cemetery where her parents' remains were interred. Seeing her tombstone, next to her parents, was like a knife stabbing her in the gut, but as her fingers caressed the cool granite headstone that stood as a sentry of her parents' grave, Torie felt an instant peace. It was as if they were somehow communicating with her that there was nothing for her to worry about any longer.
And that's when she knew she wanted to come back and speak with them, if at all possible.
I know that everyone wants that final goodbye, but now that I know what happened, I just want to tell them…
Hellboy's voice broke into her thoughts.
"Make any new friends out there?" He made sure his voice was light, but also laced with a bit of lust.
Instinctively, a sassy smile curved her lips and a hand went to her jean-clad hip, despite the fact that she was trying to formulate her thoughts into such a way that they would be organized and logical later in the evening when they were in the cemetery. But flirting, especially with Hellboy, was now a fluid and natural reaction. "A few. Jealous?" Torie was glad that there wasn't a trace of melancholy in her voice. She had to remember that while she hoped tonight would bring her closure, it would also be the start of a new chapter with Hellboy. In fact, Torie really hoped that by embracing her past, she could find footing as her own person, rather than the daughter of two visionary doctors. It was a long shadow they continued to cast.
Hellboy thought Torie looked every bit a Valkyrie warrior as she posed, chin… and chest… jutting forward – and had to swallow back a hungry growl. Instead, he let the lust he felt reflect in his eyes, replying, "Not in the least. They can want all they want. I have." The emphasis on the last word caused Torie to involuntarily shiver and the hairs on her arms to stand up. His gaze drug along the length of her body, a physical weight caressing Torie's skin.
Attempting to cover her reaction, Torie smirked to herself as she moved across the room to the closet. She pulled a black tunic dress – embellished with lavender embroidery – off a hanger and then grabbed a black bra out of her open suitcase. But instead of donning either garment, or shimmying out of her jeans, Torie tossed them onto the foot of the bed, then leaned against the wall and watched Hellboy watch her.
Torie had to admit, she was ridiculously lucky… and happy. While he would certainly disagree, Torie thought that Hellboy was about as intelligent and sexy as one could get. And if they didn't have dinner reservations, it would have been tempting to order up room service and spend the night in, reacquainting themselves with one another.
It's been so fucking long since we, well…
Stretched out the full length of the bed, his feet dangling off the edge, Hellboy looked like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. His tail lazily cut through the air, making figure eights. His horns were ground low. His right hand lay across his stomach, emphasizing how low his pants were on his hips. But it was his golden eyes, nearly amber with lust and pure contentment, that caused Torie's gaze to stop its nomadic journey along the length of his body and linger, drinking deep from their depths.
It was all so very… distracting. She had to look elsewhere. But she felt helpless; with their gazes locked, Torie felt as if she were practically hypnotized.
Suddenly, his eyes were alight with merriment. And Torie's instantly narrowed in suspicion. The moment was broken, much to Torie's relief. At least, I hope it is. There was a thought process going on inside his head that worried her… and that she also found intriguing.
Several seconds of silence stretched out before Torie couldn't take it anymore. "You look way too amused," she blurted out. Torie then arched a brow in curiosity and bit her bottom lip to stifle a smile. There was no way she was going give Hellboy the satisfaction of laughing until she knew the joke. Even though it was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow back a chuckle.
Hellboy sighed dramatically, relishing the moment. He could see that it would just be a matter of the correct words to get Torie in bed with him… causing the rest of the evening's plans to dissipate with just a searing kiss. The electricity between them was palpable, causing the air in the room to become hard to come by. "Just thinking about you wearing the wifebeater out. Identical to how you were out on the balcony," he replied, wistfully. Not exactly the way to woo her over to the mattress, but it gave voice to the image that was dancing through his mind.
Torie couldn't hold back the giggle that had been threatening to well up for some time. Tomorrow. Make it up to him tomorrow. "Of course you are, Sam!" Her cheeks suddenly got hot and she imaged they were the same color as Hellboy's. She had to swallow hard to keep from panting. Is this what nearly two weeks of celibacy does to people?
Shrugging his shoulders, Hellboy spread his hands and replied, "Hey, what can I say? I'm a man of simple tastes." His teeth were blinding in the low light. And the idea of walking out on the street with his sexy woman on his side, the streetlights highlighting the dusky shadows of Torie's nipples peaking through the fabric, made his pants feel tight. Just like the first night we were… together.
Attempting for coy, Torie purred, "For someone so simple, you sure can be complex sometimes." Her hands went on her hips and a smirk twisted her lips. The conversation was taking a fabulous turn. The idea of dinner suddenly went out the window. On to dessert…
The smile instantly disappeared and a look of annoyance colored his features. What the fuck does that mean? I'm… simple? "That's not what I said… and that wasn't very nice." Just get out of bed and get dressed. Don't fight. Just… slip off the bed and redirect the conversation.
Crappity, crap, crap! This was not what Torie was anticipating and she thought fast, hoping to find a way to correct her faux pas. "Oh Sam! I think that I'm very nice. And to prove it, let me apologize to you." Torie pushed off the wall and sat down on the edge of the bed, laying her torso against Hellboy's, effectively pinning him to the bed.
Hellboy closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, trying to keep from allowing his thoughts wander to how she wanted to make it up to him. Be strong, old man. "I accept your apology." But I don't wanna. Not at all. Not until you make it up to me, in whatever way you're thinking.
Torie really wanted to try to revive the fun and flirty atmosphere that she had single-handedly deflated. "Not yet." And with that, she began to pepper Hellboy's chest with butterfly kisses. Hellboy groaned, but in pleasure and frustration.
Gritting his teeth, Hellboy pushed himself backwards until he was sitting up with his back against the headboard. The only problem was, as he moved, Torie did not move along with him. And, because of that, her head was no longer on his chest, but now on his thigh. Methinks you just made the situation a smidge bit worse. Maybe reasoning with her? "You need to stop or else you'll be upset that dawn will be coming sooner than you like and nothing you wanted to do this evening got accomplished."
With a sigh that bordered on a groan, Torie pushed herself into an upright position and grabbed the bra she had tossed onto the foot of the bed. As she quickly donned the garment, Torie agreed, although exasperation tinged her voice. "You're right! You're right! And I am sorry. Mea culpa! The implication was not as it sounded. Rather that you are direct – not wishy-washy. But the apology is not over, just delayed. Besides, tomorrow we're going to have the day – the whole day – to ourselves. No one, but us. I have a boat at our disposal and we have full access to a fishing shack in the Manchac Swamp. It's early enough that the mosquitoes won't be too bad and I thought it might be nice to do something different, yet very New Orleans. Sound good?"
Hellboy was surprised… and wasn't sure if he was able to hide his shock. Manchac Swamp was rather notorious, being known as the Haunted Swamp by the locals – and rightfully so. Abe had led a group of agents into the swamp, looking for a rouge rougarou who had been attacking local residents and sucking their blood. It was a tough case, because the rougarou would turn to human form during the day and appear to be a frail swamp resident. Then, at night, they transformed into a merciless wolf-like lycanthrope. Two members of Abe's team were killed before the case was able to be closed. The case file made even the hardened Hellboy shudder – and he had partaken in more than his fair share than anyone at the BPRD…
…But there was more than just the case history that caused Hellboy concern.
"Isn't that… Isn't that where a voodoo priestess decimated an entire town?" Hellboy was trying to remember historic details that Abe gave him a handful of years ago. At the time, very cool… but now – borderline creepy.
Torie smiled ruefully, as if momentarily lost in thought, before nodding her head in the affirmative. "Yeah. Back around the turn of the 20th century, Julia Brown supposedly would always sing about taking the town Frenier with her when she died. No one knew how she was gonna do it… and it seemed most people didn't believe her. Not sure about reasons for the animosity she felt towards the community, but when she did pass, a hurricane – the Great West Indies Storm of 1915 – descended on the swamp and took out three little hamlets… Frenier being one of them. And to be quite honest, I'm not at all sure if she really was a voodoo priestess. But they say several hundred people died and despite it being prime real estate, all these years later, no one has rebuilt where those towns were."
Torie's words prompted more recollections. Hellboy's brow furrowed in thought as he replied, "And they say that every so often, you can see one of the hurricane victims floating below the water's surface?"
Shrugging her shoulders absently, Torie stood up and pulled her dress over her head and then slipped off her jeans. "So they say. I've been out there many times – friends had a fishing shack that we would have small little parties at. If you take the skiff to the right area at the right tide level, you can see the crosses of the victims. But I've never seen anything creepier than the hangin' tree, which they say is blood red, but only if the low light of sunset hits it right. Both of those – the submerged cemetery with the crosses poking out of the water and the hanging tree – are about as unreal as it gets. And that's pretty unreal, let me tell you – although I'm sure it's nothing to you. Otherwise, the absence of sounds – except for the water lapping against the trees, the occasional bird calling and alligators hopping in and out of the water – is what creeps you out. But save for that, I think it's this side of paradise."
The wistful tone in her voice tugged at Hellboy's heart. She belongs here. "New Orleans really suits you," he said quietly, hating the breathy catch in his voice. The vitality that he saw in Torie since she hit the Louisiana border was unlike anything he had seen in her on a continuous basis. Usually she was thoughtful, quiet and precise. Of late, she was impulsive, exuberant and somewhat chaotic
Torie sank back down next to Hellboy on the bed, allowing her body to conform down the length of his side. "No," she said, her voice firm. "It doesn't. It suits who I used to be. And I've regressed back into being that person. She lived a very social, active life. A life that I find very exhausting. A life that I moved on from. I like who I am. I like who I was. But they are two separate people. Too many ghosts here. Literally, as well as figuratively. And way too many distractions. I am ready to go back to Connecticut. I want to see how construction is going on the women's center. I want to see my puppa, Lancelot. I want to calm the fuck down. My body is hating the eating, drinking and constantly being on the go – and then running at 5:30 in the morning."
Torie paused, formulating her thoughts before finishing, "You have been such a great sport about all this. And I'm having a blast. Don't think I'm not. But I'm also losing myself. So I want to stop that runaway train I seem to have found myself on. And to do that, dinner tonight. Then possibly seeing my parents. Then – some time to ourselves. And Manchac swamp is about one of the most isolated places I can think of. Then maybe we can carry the spirit… get it?... on and take a Voodoo tour. Hit Myrtle's Plantation. Places where we can do some heavy eye flirting. Just be typical tourist dorks like we were the whole rest of the trip."
Hellboy waited a few moments, formulating his words, before saying, simply, "I'm having fun – I don't want to paint a picture that I'm not – but some time to ourselves would be much appreciated." He smiled cautiously, hoping Torie understood his intent.
A gentle smile curved Torie's lips. "Good. Now, let's kiss and make up. Then off to dinner." She then leaned in, at first brushing her lips suggestively against Hellboy's, before melting into him. Her pelvis pressed against his hip, in a way that fully communicated exactly what Torie was thinking… without fully committing herself to the consequences.
"Oh Torie, you are the devil," he whispered against her lips, his forehead resting against Torie's, his fingers gently winding into her hair. The other hand went to her hip, itching to swing her from laying beside him to lying on top.
"Better the devil you know…" she whispered back, gently biting at his bottom lip.
Hellboy began to return Torie's kisses with fervor, which Torie relished with a passion, making her way so that she was straddling Hellboy. And just as Hellboy was about to rotate so that Torie was pinned beneath him, she broke the kiss and sat up. "We need to get going. Dinner reservation time is just about upon us. And I want to meet my folks before I lose my nerve." The look on her face was rueful, although there was an impish light in her eyes.
"And just when I was thinking I would get to know the devil," Hellboy panted. He watched morosely as Torie climbed off his lap and slipped her feet into a pair of simple sandals, then smoothed the skirt of her dress into place.
A dimple appeared in her cheek. "Tomorrow, Sam. You can know me every which way you want. I promise. But dinner tonight, then dessert tomorrow."
Hellboy knew that no matter how things went that evening, it was going to take a very long time to get to tomorrow.