15677/Off to Arcola!

Off to Arcola!
Date of Scene:	22 August 2023
Location:	Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls
Synopsis:	Wade packs his bags as Domino is rude.
Cast of Characters:	Wade Wilson, Neena Thurman

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Wade Wilson has posed:
    The leather and canvas suitcase _slaps_ down hard upon the tabletop, its already terribly tightly packed and taut clasps buckling under the pressure of what seems to be entirely too much... something packed within. Even the myriad of bumper stickers and travel tags spread all over the surface do little to add to the structural integrity of the piece of luggage as none other than Wade Wilson stands over it and slaps his hands together.
    The sound of that slap carries through Sister Margaret's mostly empty bar front, causing Weasel to look up and over with a scrunchy eye that becomes a narrowed one converting into a stink-eye that is shot in Deadpool's direction.
    "What, you're going on a trip somewhere?"
    Which has Wade snapping his finger and then pointing at the bartender. "Gotta get outta town, while the gettin's good. My main gig is all sorts of unhappies and me, I'm gonna take some _me_ time." He unslings the backpack on his shoulder, one of the rifles that had been slung there as well sliding off and settling onto the tabletop with a click-clack-clank. The backpack, a pink Hello Kitty one, settles down on top of the suitcase and he leans there.
    "Heading up north. To the most beautiful town in America. Arcola, Illinois. Home of the six stack burger and the Broom Corn Festival. They love me up there."
    Which has Weasel nodding slowly... standing there. Watching.
    Then he says, "Ok cool, call when you get back."

Neena Thurman has posed:
Domino is off to the side, draped over a chair, her arms folded across the back with a pale chin lying atop. She's dressed to kill, as usual, with the skin-tight black suit that is bristling with not only guns but knives. A black-lipsticked smirk is held as she watches the final packing, a wince as the suitcase complains in its closure.

"That's not gonna hold, and you're gonna have your spiderman pjs hanging on a telephone wire somewhere in Ohio." There's a pause before, "Might make Ohio nicer, actually."

Domino is quiet for a couple of heartbeats later before, "Okay, out with it. 'Me time' means you're going to blow something up, aren't you, and you don't want to share." After all, they've been friends for years.

"You're gonna call, right? When you get there?" Is that concern in her tones?

Nah. Couldn't be.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "What? No." Wade turns and he points at Domino, the brow of his mask furrowing, "And when did you get here? Someone needs to put a bell on you or something."
    Wade drops into the chair at the table that now holds his luggage, sprawling back into a seat and balancing precariously on two legs. "But seriously the story is this big long and involved thing, and the only high point of it was that I think Diana is totally into me, she did that whole golden lasso dealio thing. It was pretty humiliating."
    A beat, then he adds, "But also hot."
    "But no! I cannot tell you the reason for my departure!" Deadpool announces a little too loudly for the room though he turns back toward the bartender, "But Weaz, I will be super pleased if you can grab me all the fun'yuns, I needs me my travel snacks."
    He rounds back on Domino, the front two feet of his chair clattering back to the floor. "So stop prying so much! I cannot tell you about the super secret somewhat criminal task force thing I've been doing called the Suicide Squad. I can't tell you about how our last mission was super crazy. Even though I'm dying to tell you. Don't ask me!"
    Wade then sits there for a time, even as in the now silence of the background... it is utterly qiuet.
    Save for the faint rustle of Weasel gathering up all the fun'yuns.
    Then, just as the silence becomes too much. Wade says quietly. "Ok you can ask me."

Neena Thurman has posed:
There is that moment when all is silent in Sister Margaret's, even devoid of the crackling of bags. It's that sound that breaks that prolonged quiet are those fun'yun bags grabbed by Weasel.

Dark brows rise upon the albino face, her head canting, her chin still propped on bare arms. "I won't ask. Promise." There's that quirked smile, however, and finally she lifts her head from its resting position. "Sounds boring if you ask me."

Is this prodding for more? Likely.

"I mean, 'super crazy'? That's an every day thing for you."

Finally, Domino relents a little and sits a little straighter in her backwards chair. "Who do you have to babysit on this team?" Because, of course, Wade is the best and he has to take care of all the others. "Anyone I know?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Oh there's, like tons of people." Wade says as he again rocks back on that chair, the front two legs leaving the ground as he balances there, hands between his legs and holding onto the edge of that chair's seat. "Rotates, sometimes people grad out, sometimes other people come in. Got this cool gal named Mel who is running the gig. But..."
    Deadpool crinkles up his nose behind the mask, then shakes his head as he gestures to the side. "Through only partially a fault of my own, things went a bit south when we hit up Atlantic City on our last op. I mean, I covered as best I could. But now the big mammerjammer is all mad at me. Well, at us... really."
    The chair thumps back down. "So naturally the adult thing to do is to face our problems, have a sit down with all the concerned parties, hammer things out."
    His nose crinkles up again, "So yeah, which is totally why we're not doing that. Cutting and running. Besides. Broom Corn Festival."
    He looks up as Weasel comes over and sets down four small single-serving size bags of fun'yuns in front of Wade.
    "That's all?"
    "That is all we have, Wade."
    "That's it?"
    "That is it."
    "Blah."

Neena Thurman has posed:
Domino can just see it as Wade describes, minus the embellishment, adding a side-order of what probably //actually// happened to come out with the scene. "Well, Atlantic City totally deserved it."

Rising from her spot, she's standing over her seat as she streeeetches to grab a bag before Wade commits a sin and crushes them all into his suitcase for the trip. "You sure Broom Corn festival is now? I thought that was October."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Oh listen to you, pretending to have a handle on the Broom Corn Festival. You've never been." Wade rises to his feet as his chair thumps down, he grabs the three remaining fun'yuns bags and to his credit unzips his backpack, likely going to stow them in there. Which he does.
    "They respect me up there, I get to ride in the corn wagon at the front of the parade." There's a sagacious nod given by the man in red and black as he affixes Domino with his white eyeletted stare.
    "Uncle Wade they call me, ever since I saved them from the predations of a predatory mayor and his pet sheriff. And I didn't use any pew pew bang bang to do it either. Just me, my cousin, and our 1969 dodge charger. So... you can step on off, lil Missy." Another emphatic point with one gloved hand, then he walks across the room, abandoning his luggage for the moment and _hops_ up onto the bar's counter top. Then leans over the edge of it, disappearing partially from view save for his legs and his rump.
    Though his voice is heard as he digs around in the cardboard box of snack foods hidden behind the bar. "We're takin' the van up though, me and my totally real Canadian teammates."

Neena Thurman has posed:
"I got a wheat tiara in Iowa." Sure.. "Actually, I got a gator bag in Florida. Had to shoot my own gator. Not bad over a fire, when you can get the punky trees lit." Domino didn't want to be outdone, but the image of Wade with a corn crown is siply perfect.

The bag is opened and the albino merc sits back down again in her seat, her fingers dipping into that grease and salted goodness. "But that '69 Charger thing? I think that was the Dukes of Hazard. You're confusing your crappy Pacer with that hot bit of engine." Hmmmhmm..

"You know.. I'm headed to Madripoor later, but if you need anything in Illinois.. like, what do they actually have out there except for corn? Cows?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Good people is what they have out there!" Wade's voice is still somewhat muffled by being behind the counter, his legs dangling and flailing a bit. "Salt of the earth!"
    Then, when he finally reemerges from behind the bar, he hops back to his feet and produces... a _fifth_ fun'yuns bag. He holds up his wondrous bounty and gestures with it at Weasel who flares his hands as if to accept whatever blame or condemnation Deadpool might heap onto him... all the while not really _caring_ that much either.
    "Et tu, Weazelle?" Said in that faux heart-felt way.
    He tosses the bag onto his pile of luggage and then walks over, "To be fair though," He ignores her impugning of his memory and his adventures as being unoriginal, instead he presses on. "I am a little all higgledy-piggledy lately. With what's going on. When I get back..."
    He hefts the backpack over one shoulder, then the rifle. Taking up his suitcase he nods toward Domino. "I expect you to have my life back on track, Dom. With a clear series of goal statements. Action items. Really you've been slipping in that whole BFF role. Keep it up and we'll grab some teen sidekick or something to get the coveted 18-25 demographic."
    He strolls towards the door and boots it open then holds it wide with a shoulder. "Now no tears, and while I'm gone..." He points at Weasel and Dom, "No touching my stuff!"
    And then he is gone.