There were exactly sixteen photographs of Hellboy in the Monday morning New York Times.
Manning should know. He counted.
Hellboy’s excuse was simply and plainly stated; he’d just really needed to save that cat, so he’d done it without thinking twice.
Now the kitten was sitting, purring, in the crook of his arm, looking about as smug as its new owner. Liz stood by her friend, supporting his need to save the cat, and Abe would say nothing against him.
Which left Manning with an unanswerable incident report and hundreds of phone calls to field.
Sometimes that transfer to Antarctica looked incredibly tempting.