16449/ONE OF THESE DAYS, INEZ!

ONE OF THESE DAYS, INEZ!
Date of Scene:	30 November 2023
Location:	Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls
Synopsis:	Something something Cowgirl. Something something joke.
Cast of Characters:	Wade Wilson, Inez Temple

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Wade Wilson has posed:
    The late late evening at Sister Margaret's tends to be feast or famine depending on how one looks at it. Feast, in that Weasel had already retired with a boatload of tips for the evening after the last conscious customer had wandered off through the door at three A.M. Famine, for the fact that it left Wade amongst the various and sundry inebriates who were sprawled about the room. Patrick Sheehan, AKA Pistolero, lay face down in the corner booth with a bottle of whiskey still clasped in one hand.
    Across the room there was T-Ray, underneath one of the tables next to the jukebox. Which left only the flickering flaring lights of the KENO!!!! machine awake enough to hear the dulcey tones of Deadpool's serenade.
    Sweeping out of the back room, holding a mop in one hand, a bucket of sand in the other. He croons happily along with the music only he likely hears for the moment, his voice heard in mid-song as the back door swings open.
    "When he opens his arms and holds you close tonight..."
    He steps past the booth, spinning the mophead and dipping it low as he dances across the floor, "It just won't feel right." He lifts the mop, "'Cause I can love you more than this, yeah."
    "When he lays you down, I might just die inside. It just don't feel right."
    A moment to swoop past T-Ray, casually pouring some of the sand onto the snoozing man's CAT hat. "'Cause I can love you more than this. Can looooooove you more than this."

Inez Temple has posed:
And into this concert walks a tall drink of water in daisy dukes and a crop top hoodie, blonde hair braided in twain (that's latin! Maybe...) and a cowboy hat. Where did Inez come from? It doesn't really matter for the overall narrative, does it? What's important is that like an absolute buzzkill, if half-naked one, she stalks into the room and interrupts his Moment(tm). She cocks her head and squints at him.

"T' fuck you carryin' on about there?" She asks, "Didja get into Weasel's edibles again?" And she puts her hands on her hips. "And you *didn't* share?" That last is added with a tone of 'how very dare you' even as she eyes him up and down, "Guess I should be glad y' ain't wearing the maid outfit with your balls hangin' out like two wads of chewed bubble gum." She shakes her head, and tilts her hat up before turning to go to the bar, bouncing up and over with legs kicking in the air. "Dammit, did he forget to leave me out a bottle of jack? Rude."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Jarring!" Wade's voice rises, and as he does so T-Ray grumbles in his sleep then slooowly turns over, accompanied by all the creaking of his leather gear. Deadpool, for his part, sets the bucket of sand on the ground with a slight clatter, still holding the mop in the other hand. Those white eyelets narrow a bit as he lifts a gloved hand and points at her.
    "As I live and breathe, Cray-Cray Enos." The corner of his mask twists up and then back down. "Wait. Have we met? Or is this one of those alternate reality things?" His fingers waggle slightly as he crosses the way...
    And then tosses the mop in her direction. "No, no, I'm thinking these are my own thoughts and feelings and memories of those mammaries. But are you like, a good Inez, or a bad Inez? We've had some terrible ones ta be sure."

Inez Temple has posed:
"I think we were married fer a while, but who t' 'ell can keep track." Inez's voice raises from behind the bar, where she's digging ass up for a bottle of booze. She surfaces with Maker's Mark, and squints over at Wade. She opens it with her mouth, spitting the lid onto the floor by the mop she completely and utterly didn't catch. "If I wanted t' hold y' pole, Waddles, I'd ask."

And to make it clear she doesn't get paid to mop, she turns and hops onto the bar, crossing her legs in a lady-like manner that would be questionable if she wasn't wearing shorts instead of a mini-skirt. "So what kind of narrative we doin', dipshit? Divorced, unresolved sexual tension, bunch o' pixels on t' screen again?" Her eyes narrow. "I ain't wearin' the spidey suit again and doin' *that*. It's against God's plan t' do *that*."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    Turning around and sprawling backwards onto the bar beside her, Wade takes in a deep breath under the mask, then pulls the fabric up to reveal the twisted gnarled lower half of his countenance. He reaches for the bottle and if successful will avail himself of a drink as he looks across he wasteland that is Sister Margaret's at this time of night. "All of the above, I imagine. It's too late to draw boundaries upon what is assuredly a timeless love. Or sommich."
    The Merc with the Mouth then leans over and drapes an arm around Inez's shoulders if only for a small side hug embrace as he says. "S'good to see you, ya chucklehead." He looks across the room again and pulls the mask back down. "So much stuff's been going on, I feel like this karmic obligation to relate it to you in some form beyond interpretive dance."

Inez Temple has posed:
"Laaaaame." Inez drawls, although she leans over against him as he side-hugs her, "Missed you too, dumbass." She tells him softly, tilting her hat back so he can see the fond grin before she snatches the bottle back and takes a deep drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand like a fucking *lady*.

She then offers him the bottle back with a roll of her eyes at his offer. "I mean, I'm feelin' a little too lazy to read the logs, so gimme the cliff notes, yeah?" She suggests, "Act like I'm brand new an' we ain't talked in almost a year. You still doin' that whole 'meta commentary' thing where we pretend we're unaware we're on a text-based game bein' ran by strangers with a comic book fetish and no social skills?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
    Accepting the bottle he takes another pull, this time though he leaves the mask up, but not before he licks his lips a bit as he hisses in a breath after the drink. His white eyelets shift sidelong toward her as he shakes his head a little and for once he does the thing that the other people do to him when he does the thing.
    "The what now?" All incredulity and disbelief. Such a copout. But he folds his arms over his chest and shakes his head, "No no, my thing mainly runs as if I'm in a movie or some such." He waves a hand to the side and crinkles his nose under that mask. "But as for like, the things, that I have been the doing of."
    Wade points off into the aether and starts to update Inez. "So we got the X-Force stuff on the one hand, though not hugely as active as I like since the Xavier kids are all uptight. So I found these new buddies and friends I've been running around with called Task Force something or other? Though they call themselves the Suicide Squad. Nice guys, good people. Cheerful. That guy..." He points at Pistolero, "Is on my team. Sweet dude. Irish weirdo, but uses a Spanish name. El Culturo Appropriatino Grande!"

Inez Temple has posed:
"Hey, it's hard keepin' up with t' games y' play in that fucked up spaghetti mess y' call a brain." Inez protests, giving him a shove. It isn't hard enough to shove him off the bar, which she's more than capable of doing, but there's enough oomph in it to at least rock his world a widdle.

As he recites recent events for her, she leans against him, taking several generous pulls of alcohol because she's an Outlaw and outlaws don't follow the orderly system of trading off drinks no matter how fond they are of the insane mercenary they're leaning against. "I bet he can't even speak Spanish." She tsks at Pistolero, side-eying Wade. "Suicide Squad, eh? Sounds dangerous. What's the pay like?" And as far as the school goes, her nose scrunches up as she wrinkles it. "Went to that damn school. Kid played grab-ass with me, and then M accused me of stealin' someone else's guns." She lets out an insulted huff of air. "As if I would ever be caught dead pistol whippin' a kid with someone else's gun."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    The jostle is thankfully short-lived though it doesn't change his attitude, he takes it in stride while all rolllling to the side a little, then rolling right back so she can lean on him. He lets her drink a bit and once she relinquishes the bottle he joins in, though it's not enough to keep him buzzed too easily. More just a companionable thing to do with an old buddy-pal-wife.
    Then she broaches the topiic of pay and he offers, "Good, sorta. You'd hate it. They do this..." But then he pauses and draws his lips inside his mouth in the classic kid on the playground who has said too much look. But he then, after the space of a few heartbeats... elaborates.
    "Mostly deals with prisoners and stuff, do good on a mission, get some time knocked off yer sentence. Usually goes well. For us. Thanks to my leadership. And inspirational karaoke nights." Wade looks thoughtful, "Though we did sorta fail this one mission cuz I picked a fight with Wonder Woman. Still. She caught me with that lasso so it was worth it."
    Then as she tells him about going to the school and meeting M he gives a nod, "Oh her? Yah. She can be a real buzzkill."

Inez Temple has posed:
To be fair, it's not like she's going to get drunk off a single bottle of shitty whiskey, either. While she isn't unkillable the way he seems to be, she's certainly proven capable of keeping up with him *and* the dangerous lifestyle of a professional mercenary, all without wearing more than the bare minimum of clothes!

"It's *me*, Wade." She tells him wryly, giving him a poke in the midsection. "I can keep m' mouth shut. An' I know when y' don't want me t' push." Despite the fact she's been shoving him and poking at him almost since the moment she arrived! What a bitch. She displays her bitchiness by drinking while he talks, attempting to get ahead in their little game while he's busy talking. And she does get to a certain glassy-eyed point. It'd be cute, her all drunk and cuddled up against him half naked... if the gun hidden under the crop top sweatshirt wasn't poking him in the side.

"Mmm." She says, re: lassoing, "Sounds like she steered you right. No bull, that." She nods, and offers the booze. "I'm sure y' milked it for all it was worth, right? No udder chance."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    Wade listens to her say how it's 'her' and he should trust 'her' but he just crinkles his nose behind that mask and makes a small face at her as if to say, 'Mmmmmmmaybe.' But then he chuffs a small exhaled breath that might've been a laugh if he gave it a little more energy. Shaking his head he lies back on the bar, looking up at the ceiling.
    "I'd give you shit for those puns, but no use closing the barn door... something something. Dukes of Hazzard. Something. Hee-Haw." He waves a hand to the side and grumps. "Anyways!"
    A twist to the side and it's his turn to lightly shove her side, right above that pistol, though it's a half-assed shove as he's yawning as he does it.
    "Let's see, whuddelse? Oh, we're hunting this guy called Thanos. Though I'm reasonably certain he's Josh Brolin in disguise." A look to the other way now, "Ah, you should meet Songbird, she's pretty cool. Reminds me of you. But less..." His lip twists as he gestures at her hat, "Thematically limited."

Inez Temple has posed:
"Fuck you." Inez rolls her eyes, and does the same weeble wobble when he pokes *her*, although when she leans back against him she makes sure her omni-present pistol isn't poking into him like a prom night date on a slow dance. "Imma *classic*. Unlike your maple-leaf ass." She shakes her head. "I bet you even freebase maple syrup."

She huffs out a sound that would possible be offended if you failed to realize it was a laugh, "Well, iff'n you need it, I'm here an' available to help." Beat. "I'll even make sure t' give you a generous discount. Old time's sake an' all."

Another beat.

"Because yer *old*."

She finishes off the bottle, and throws it behind her carelessly. "Reckon I best leave y' to y' cleanin', Waddles." She tells him fondly, "I gotta meetin' on some hit job from a brat lookin' to kill his parents. No rest for t' wicked, and Lord knows I try t' be the wickedest."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "So old," He agrees with her as he slips an arm around her shoulders and for a time they stare at the ceiling. Then she's already making her exit as he remains lying there on the bar, arms folded over his chest and the flap of his mask pulled up partially over his face.
    "Be sure to get the payment up front. And make sure he doesn't try to pay you in... in Pokemon cards or some shit? Fuck do kids still do the Pokey Mans? Maybe I _am_ old." He reaches over and grabs idly a handful of peanuts off the top of the bar and throws them at her.
    "Go on, git. No it's fine. I'll just be here in this ruin of emotions called Hurricane Inez. No no, don't feel bad or anything. Evil Harpy of a Woman that you are."

Inez Temple has posed:
"You'll be fine. You'll probably sit on yer hand until it goes numb and play 'stranger in the bath tub' again." Inez waves a hand breezily in the air, even as she catches some of the peanuts to munch on. Insert joke about nuts? Insert joke about inserting. Oh god dirty joke-ception! "My number's t' same, you dumbass. Gimme a buzz and we'll hang out."

She's almost to the door when she stops and turns. Finger-guns are lifted in his general direction as she takes aim... Pew Pew! She blows on them, and then tucks them away, salutes him with her hat, and walks off into the sunset with tumble weeds blowing behind her boots. Except by sunset it's really traffic lights, and the tumbleweed is hair extensions that fell outta someone's head.

New York, huh?