[ Wherever this is, it's clear Hellboy has left the cold streets of Pandemonium far behind. Or maybe someone's decided to mess with him. He's pretty sure it's the latter, especially once he lifts his right hand up from the bed and -- wait.

Okay, that's.. that's pretty weird. Even for a guy whose day job involves dealing with the weirdest of the weird, it's kind of out there. If he hadn't spent the last however-the-fuck-long wandering through the dead houses of the depths of Hell, he might be more violently surprised. As it is, he spends a decent amount of time staring at his hands, then wandering up out of bed to find the nearest mirror and standing in front of it for a while, touching his face and chest. His balance feels strange -- no tail. The carpet under his bare feet is too soft without hooves to cushion him. The photos around him don't earn a glance; he's not used to seeing this guy looking out at him yet.

Eventually he wanders downstairs, through the house and straight out onto the porch, where he stands in just his boxer shorts, a big, tired, grey-haired obviously and undeniably human dude, and looks out at the neighbourhood. ]

What the hell..?

[ The thing is, Hellboy's done this before. The whole 60's thing. He was basically a kid at the time, sure, but that doesn't mean the whole vibe isn't giving him a hit of nostalgia underneath all the confusion and suspicion. It doesn't really help, but it makes some of it less strange. Though, on the other hand, it also makes him miss his dad. But he'll take what he can get at this point.

Not really one for parties at the best of times, he's happy to hang out on the edge of the celebration with a paper plate of his second helping of Jello dessert and cake piled on it and a cigar stuck between his lips as he watches the kids racing around. He couldn't look more out of place if he tried but hey, he's used to that. ]

[ By the time Halloween rolls around, Hellboy has gotten slightly more into the swing of things. He's still not used to navigating the world from a foot and a half lower down, but if he could get used to being stuck at the bottom of the ocean and on a ghost ship with a bunch of freeloading skeletons, he can get used to this. Maybe.

At least tonight things seem more his speed. The moment he sees those ghoulish kids rush one of his neighbours, he springs -- well, not quite springs, not with his bad back and knees -- but definitely hauls himself into action, cuffing one of the kids by the back of the neck and swinging his right hand into the side of their head.

Unfortunately, it's the wrong moment to have forgotten that that particular appendage isn't made out of stone any more. Sure, he's a strong guy and he still packs a punch, sending the kid-zombie sprawling to the sidewalk, but it doesn't do more than that. And it hurts.

The kid scrambles up, howling through an ironically devilish mask, and Hellboy looks down at his hand like it's betrayed him. ]

Ah, crap.

[ Yeah, he might need some help. ]

[ OOC: Happy to be wildcarded for any of the prompts! Or hit me up at laetificat to plot something! ]