Much later at his enforced appointed time, John Myers arrived at Hellboy's room, pushing the usual loaded meal cart through the vault door. His pointed look of curiosity went unnoticed by the resident demon. Myers turned to the task of transferring the filled bowls and trays to a table.

"What's going on with you?" Myers finally asked. "If you're sick, the director needs to know."

"I'm not sick, Myers."

"But you haven't been eating-"

"Not here," said Hellboy. "I can go where everybody else eats, if I want to. Now, I'm in the mood for room service."

"I guessed you weren't alone last night," suggested Myers, a little too cheerfully, "You sounded like a dog with a bone!"

Hellboy's eyes narrowed dangerously, then he stalked a few steps away before blading his body to level a seething glare. "This is mine!" he growled, his tail lashing with fury. "It doesn't get kicked around the Bureau!"

John Myers went pale, instantly feeling trapped by a red panther about to spring. Hellboy, so righteously angered, was truly terrifying. Myers threw up his hands, a surrender. "Never! No disrespect, Red!" he hastened to placate the demon. He too belatedly realized that he had not been granted any degree of the intimate status that would allow him to safely remark on Red's union with Liz, especially since he'd been the one attempting to come between them. Frankly, he couldn't imagine Red's closest friend, Abe Sapien, ever speaking out of line.

Myers tried not to stammer, "I won't be here much longer."

Hellboy's riled posture eased somewhat. "Going away?" he asked, ever so softly.

"Transferred – to Antarctica," Myers informed, then being aware of how foolhardy it might be, more boldly went on, "Do you know something about that?"

The demon stepped closer. "Maybe. I reported every hero move you pulled in Moscow. Glowed all over you. You're just way too good for us." He turned away again. "Anyway, I don't control these things."

Myers lowered himself to the couch, staring down at his clasped hands. "I was angry about it, but I'm not now." The tension in the atmosphere wound down noticeably. He looked up at Red holding a cigar to his lips, just listening. "Nothing ties me here," continued the young agent, "or anywhere. I've been doing skype sessions with a team girl – and now, I can't wait to get there."

"That's good...good," Red approved. "And listen," he moved forward to settle into his own custom-sized chair, "what you did for us, it was huge – planet Earth huge. I won't forget. You've got all my admiration, kid."

A reminiscent wince twitched Myers' cheek. "Everything about Moscow was huge, but I'll accept only my share of the credit. I couldn't forget it if I tried." He skimmed fingers over his face, where healing of his cuts and bruises was progressing well.

"We're both a little less pretty, right?" teased Hellboy. "I hope your girl likes scars."

John Myers smiled and nodded, as her image formed in his mind.

"Hey..." Red continued, "Here's why I was tearing into you earlier. You were never part of it, but I've been a long time listening to the way a lot of the guys here talk about women, since before you were born, and I won't let any jag-off say trash about Liz."

Myers began to feel more remorseful for having tried to win Liz away from her most formidable suitor. He, as a human, could have many paths to love, unlike Hellboy, who had long ago set his heart on pyrokinetic Liz and no other. The half-demon so completely owned his solitary and uniquely placed position, decades of history – and no one could dispute, his male supremacy. But as the late Professor Bruttenholm had given charge to John Myers to help Hellboy to 'become a man', the young agent had agonized over a solution to the assignment. The trust in him was not misplaced when he proved his courage in facing down the lethal and ruthless Anung un Rama, with his appeal to the humanity he knew to be within. Letting down the professor, to say nothing of all mankind, was unthinkable. And he'd seen that the man in Hellboy loved a woman who now loved him back. He conceded that he'd never had a real chance to take her from him.

Watching Red lift his chin to blow a lazy plume of smoke toward the ceiling, Myers had the distinct uneasy feeling that he was just a barely-welcome visitor to the cave of the alpha wolf. No matter how great was their collective success in containing the Seven Gods of Chaos - on the home front, it was the number Three that Hellboy could not tolerate or allow.

It hadn't escaped the notice of senior agents in Hellboy's personal squad, that shortly after Myers' arrival, he was maneuvering to get closer to Liz. Soon enough, he learned with dismay that a group of personnel had started a pool, to wager on the day and time that Hellboy would twist off Myers' head. Being considered an inconvenience, a threat, to someone as physically overwhelming as Red, conferred upon Myers a notoriety he'd never wanted to earn within the Bureau. But extending due respect to all concerned, he remained principled, endured the ominous teasing and never spoke of them.

With time and distance, Myers believed, Hellboy would relax his territorial imperative. At some future date, he knew he would win his own love, and the four together might develop a warmer association. He would never know anyone like them again. Sharing the dangers of Rasputin's mausoleum together had transformed each of their lives beyond what any could have imagined. Myers knew he had been invested with a steel and an insight that he had not possessed before.

Myers stood up and buttoned his suit jacket, smoothed his tie. "Red, for the time that I have left here – if you want privacy, just let me know, and you've got it."

Hellboy made his agreeable approach. Myers mentally readied his shoulder for a congenial but rattling thump of Red's stone hand. It didn't happen.

"Then I won't be seeing you until this time tomorrow," Red grinned. "Myers, you're okay."