15050/Is There Enough Beer In The World

Is There Enough Beer In The World
Date of Scene:	31 May 2023
Location:	Swordfish Bar (SHIELD)
Synopsis:	The rules of Paper Football are explained. Poorly. Thus leading to Wade getting hit. Is anyone surprised?
Cast of Characters:	Wade Wilson, Jessica Drew, Monica Chang

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Wade Wilson has posed:
    "It's simple really," Wade's voice is that light conversational tone of his that he uses for most everything in his life. From intense discussion of the metric system to questioning a prisoner about the location of the nuclear launch codes. The topic of this evening in the middle of the Swordfish bar?
    It is the proper folding of a paper football.
    "You need clean precise lines, smooooothly implemented as you apply them. Some people like to advocate the use of saliva to aid in the tearing of the folds, but I am more inclined to focus on my craftsmanship than to aid my technique with bodily fluids."
    A pause as he then makes a sound that is not unlike a subdued chortle. "Hah."
    Then he continues turning the sheet of notebook paper slowly on its side, finishing another fold here, a crease there. "And, if your form is... perfect. Then you will have given rise to..." He twists, and then tucks in a part of the small paper triangle into place, then holds his work aloft, presenting it to the two SHIELD women, his red and black gauntlet offering up his prize to them like some great gift to humanity.
    "A tool you can utilize for the purity of victory. Here dollface, you can keep this one." He slides it across the table in between the two of them, not sure exactly which one he might be calling dollface.
    Once that's done he pulls his mask up a little, takes a sip of his beer. "Any questions?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
After sharing a glance with the bartender, Jess looks sideways at Monica, a corner of her mouth quirking up the moment she decides to throw her under the bus. No way is she going to be Wade's dollface. With a precisely measured flick of a finger she pushes the paper football toward Monica.

Eyebrows raised in polite disbelief, nearly tipping over into a scoff, "It's a real piece of art, Wade. A testament to your resourcefulness."

She takes another sip of her martini and raises her glass to Manny, "Now, this is a work of art. It's medicinal, too. Doesn't taste like medicine but it goes a long way toward numbing the stupidity of the world."

Monica Chang has posed:
Monica Chang.

Red Room Graduate of the Widow Program who is truly deadly.

Expert on Artificial Intelligence who can create code from scratch.

SHIELD Agent extraordinaire!

All these things and she was staring at that football as though it was a bomb she had to defuse. She leaned down to look at it, without touching. All the information about how it was made was fine. It had been filed away. Yet, she was still examining it for the curiosity it was. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, it was one of those moments that might remind people she really wasn't like normal people.

"But...what's it for?"

Because while she knew pop culture references, Monica didn't go to school like most people in the U.S. She was in the Red Room learning espionage. Thus she had never played with a paper football and it wasn't something she had been exposed to even when she was in college.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "You play tabletop football with it. A game of skill. A game of courage. A game of moxie." Wade says in answer to Monica, even as he points at Jessica with his bottle of beer, "Which is saying something that I play it, because normally I _hate_ moxie. I am anti-mox. I am mox-phobic. I am moxist."
    He leeeeans forward then and _reclaims_ his masterpiece and takes it up. "Alright, so we're sitting here at this table, right. This... shall be our field of battle." Wade turns to the side, "Jess since you are a pooper of parties, you can be the referee. You're like, not American though right? So you don't know the rules, but like that ever stopped a ref anywhere?"
    Again the short sharp, "Hah!"
    "So between us now, Agent Chang, this is our competitive pitch. I shall begin, since I made the football. I get to start. The goal... is to flick or slide the football across the distance in one motion, and if you have enough finesse with it so that it stops, balancing on the edge of the table but doesn't fall off of it, then you have scored..."
    He pauses, white eyelets narrowing, "A touchdown." He casually flicks the piece of paper forward, it comes nowhere near scoring. "If you get a touchdown, you kick the extra point, and whomever has the most points at the end of class when the bell rings is the winner. Right? Right."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Agent Drew shares more with Agent Chang than shows on the surface. Trained from childhood to be an assassin and schooled in espionage, she too was one of the Taskmaster's creations. Being homeschooled in a lab hidden from the world, she often is the only one who doesn't know the quote from Star Trek or Space Balls, making everybody laugh.

But as luck would have it, she has benefited from shared nighttime duty with American agents bored out of their minds and has been schooled in the fine art of paper footballs with a sideline in spitballs. Who said SHIELD agents were grownups?

"I'll cheer you on Chang. Show him what you've got. One for the SHIELD team. Rah rah."

With a pinkie in the air, she finishes off her martini and slides it toward Mannie, "One more, please. And whatever, Agent Chang is having, too."

Monica Chang has posed:
Monica still was looking very confused as she listened to the rules. "Did you just make this up?" Because she was beginning to think that was mostly what Wade did. As opposed to the reality of the world around them.

"We just...flick it at each other?" That didn't sound like a game. But she had studied football, because it was something she needed to know about potentially when undercover. And those rules didn't seem to work or apply in this one. She eyed the size of the table, the paper-football. "So if I get it past you, it still has to balance on the edge of the table? Like extended beyond or just near the edge? I'm not sure how this is supposed to be that challenging. Do you get to swat it out of the air or something as the defense? Or punch your opponent to mess up their concentration?"

At the mention of the drink, she glanced over to Mannie. "Oh! Just another beer. Something on tap. Maybe one of those fancy micro brew things."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "See, Drew, that's the thing. Some people might weigh the situation, look at it, see that one of us clearly is an old hand at this sport, considering he made the football and knows the rules. A discerning agent would then likely be able to foresee that that individual is likely going to be the victor in this. But you're brave, you think to back the noobie, good for you and your courage."
    He sniffs affectedly then says, "Very SHIELDish, voted agency most likely to need new recruits every few weeks." He crinkles his nose under the mask sidelong at Agent Drew, then looks back to Monica. "But yeeah we flick it at each other, you have to get part of the football to hang over the edge of the table without falling off. It's like crossing the goal plane. Each flick _clearly_ represents a football drive. It's a macro vision, very esoteric. Think of it like... you're looking down at it from the worst seats in the stadium."
    And as he says that he flicks the football back at Monica's side again. Then sips his beer.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Nope, Wade. We don't specialize in Red Shirts. We leave that to the agencies with three-letter acronyms that specialize in red tape," she replies, relishing the verbal football.

"Leave the esotericism to Wade, Chang and whup his ass."

Mannie diverts her attention by handing her another martini and placing a bottle of beer with a bright red bicycle on its label in front of Monica. "Oh, good stuff!"

Monica Chang has posed:
Since he didn't mention that defense was or was not allowed, Monica reached up a hand to smack the football away. Back toward Wade's face.

Even as she glanced over at Jessica. "Is he making this shit up?" she asked bluntly. No whispering, not trying to do an aside. She just asked it right in front of his face. Because, why not? She had no reason to pretend. But there was a smirk on her face and a hint of amusement. Cause she was positive now she as being pranked here.

The beer does catch her attention though. She swigs down the last bit of her first one then picks up the bottle of new beer. A quick sip and she smiled while nodding approvingly.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Yeah, I hear those Food and Drug association clowns go through interns like nobody's business." Wade replies as he sees his latest attempt get smooshed out of the way.
    "Heeey, you're not allowed to smack my football. Be gentle with my football. What has it ever done to you?"
    He shakes his head and then straightens up in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "Philistines. I've half a mind to take my football and go home. On a side note, I also just like saying football. Kinda loses meaning if you say it a lot. Football."
    He turns his head to the side, "Football. Foooootball. Footbaaaaall. Fooball."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Good offense, Chang. He is not having you on, by the way. I wouldn't let him make fun of you. Besides, he doesn't know how deadly that would be," Jess grins with all her teeth at Wade then takes another sip of her drink.

"Smack him with it, if you want to. I'll make the goal posts for you when you win."

Monica Chang has posed:
"Then how is it like football if there is no chance for defense? This is more like darts. You just try to hit a certain target," Monica argued because there was no way this game made sense as explained.

Though it had been Wade explaining. Perhaps she should've expected it.

Then as Wade went through testing the sound of his own voice, she had to giggle. She hadn't intended to do so but there it was. "Fooball. It will now and forever be fooball. This..." She pointed to the table and the paper football he was holding. "Is now fooball."

The words from Jess had her giggling more. "I think breaking his neck for daring to beat me in fooball might be a tad of an overreaction, no?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "You gotta say it with a Southern accent and a few extra syllables." Wade says as he sets his Foououbawl back into play. A slide toward her edge of the table, but no score as of yet. "Gotta go all 'Foouwoobauwawl. Dadgum.'"
    He points at Monica and then says, "You know if you're such a cold hard killer you shouldn't giggle. Cold hard killers do not giggle. Unless they're like... fucking demonic dolls come to life."
    A beat, then he tilts his head to the side, "You're not a demonic doll come to life are you?" Then to Jess, "Is she?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
With an elaborate roll of her eyes, Jess shrugs, a faint smile limning her lips. "I suppose," she drawls with her best U-accent, "you could find out. It's your ass," she adds primly.

"What ever you decide Monica, I will back you on it."

She giggles and shivers her shoulders gleefully in anticipation.

Monica Chang has posed:
"I am not a doll."

Note, Monica did not deny any association to the demonic however. Though she did consider and gave that southern drawl a test. "Fouwbawl?"

She gave Wade a little smile as she took the football and considered. Then she flicked it across the table. A nice airborne arc and at the top of that arc.

She tried to punch Wade in the nose. He hadn't ever mentioned if that was allowed or not. Apparently she just wasn't allowed to swat away the fooball in her mind right not.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    FWIFF!
    THWAP!
    PAK!
    CRUNCH!
    The chair bowled over heavily and out of it rolled one Wade Wilson, thumping on his back as the beautifully crafted football gets tossed across the room, even as the Merc with the Mouth grooooans from on the floor. "Oh my god, such cheating. So much cheating." He covers his masked face with both hands, "Oh man I taste pennies. I shouldn't be tasting pennies. Why would you do this?!"
    Wade twists and rolls to the side, pushing himself up on one arm, "I try to impart some sense of respect for our cultural heritage and you respond with violence..."
    Then his head lifts, blood darkening his mask, "Are you single?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
"He needs a better director. He's too histrionic. Mannie, I think he might need some ice. It's on me." Jess has turned in her chair to watch Wade pick himself up then gives Monica a thumbs up.

"Oh, Chang, that's the way to win hearts. If I were into girls, I'd be yours, but I don't swing that way."

Monica Chang has posed:
Monica has to laugh a little at the pair she was hanging with. Who knew that she would actually ever have friends. One of who was a co worker and the other was...well, a crazy man. Yet, she liked them both. Jess more, because she knew her more. But Wade made her laugh and that was always refreshing to hang around.

"I'll keep that in mind if you ever change camps, Jess. Since I like having all the possibilities in my life." And thus she turns her attention to Wade.

"Pennies are what you get when you don't make the rules clear. I mean if you are just sitting here flicking a piece of paper at each other, how's that supposed to be fun?"

She offered a hand to help him up to his feet. "I don't think you could handle me, Deadpool."