16977/Wad Wulson

Wad Wulson
Date of Scene:	21 January 2024
Location:	Westchester - New York
Synopsis:	Rogue runs in to Wade outside of Harry's. He gives her some questionable money for her birthday. She ensures he's headed to Arbys again.
Cast of Characters:	Wade Wilson, Rogue

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Wade Wilson has posed:
    Really it's an honor, when you think about it.
    How many people can say they've been thrown out of Harry's? It's this family friendly cute little place where school people go to. It's the Cheer's of Westchester. The Rick's of Suburbia. The Sister Margaret's but for nice people.
    "Sister Margaret's is a shithole." The harsh words are said loud enough for Wade to look up from his place sprawled on the ground face-first, hands flat, mask askew. He slooowly pushes himself up just in time to catch one of the local stepping in through the door back into Harry's. The Mercenary points at the young couple and asks them, "Did you guys say that? Or did I say that? Or did I say that while I was monologuing to myself? Or was that more narration?"
    That young couple hastily ducks inside. Which leaves Wade outside, pulling himself _Sloooowly_ achily into a seated posture on one of the small cement curb parking stops in front of the bar. He dusts his hands off, makes a face behind the mask, then shouts.
    "It's okay, Harry! I forgive you!" Though he slowly pulls his cellphone out of one of the many many pouches upon his chest, swipes it to life... seems to seek out one of his bookmarks. He taps it...
    Vince Guaraldi Trio's Christmas Time Is Here starts playing in the background.

Rogue has posed:
It was a cold Saturday night, a few days before Rogue's birthday, no less. She wanted to get out of the house, but didn't want to go far, and thus Harry's was the place to be. Her black and green Dodge Charger pulled in to the parking lot of the little pub, and found a spot near the far edge by the tree line. The Aerosmith that was piping out of the interior eventually shut off, and the door popped open. A tall boot dropped on to the pavement, followed by the southern belle herself rising up from within. She shut the door, dressed in a leather jacket with a fluffed up lapel, dark blue jeans that were like a second skin, and a dark green sweater much the same worn beneath her jacket, she moved toward the sidewalk in front of the bar. With her eyes down on her phone, she's swiping the screen as she walks with a casual flirty sway to her hips, her tall heeled boots clicking on the concrete.

She doesn't notice Wade, and is walking right up to him, and soon to drift right on past him toward the front door, none the wiser, as her white and chestnut hair moves in waves around her shoulder in the cold winter wind.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    Dusting himself off, brushing a hand over his uniform, the Merc with the Mouth straightened up with that casual aplomb he was known for. Those white eyelets of his narrowed slightly at that roar and rumble of engine and power, and then behind the mask his smirk twisted wry.
    "There was no missing the Charger, it was a sweet ride. A little Trailer Parky maybe," Wade said as he pointed at it, the light piano notes coming from his cellphone accompanying his casual narration of the event before him. "But it carried with it a girl. A dynamo of a girl that had seen much in her time in this backwood backwater backdraft of a town. She didn't notice the guy in the red and black. Was about to walk right past him... and then Fate took a hand for the two stalwart heroes."
    Which was when Wade said right as she was walking by, in a slightly more aggressive tone of voice, "Dodge Chargers suck ass!"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue really didn't know it was Wade. She knew someone was sitting there, but she thought it was a homeless guy. At least until he spoke. She had one gloved hand on the brass handle of the door, and her whole motion flow ended when he said those words. She stopped, held the handle, and looked over to its source. She peered at him, phone still up. "I thought that was you. that mask makes everythin' you say sound like ya got a dick in your mouth." She fires back, smirking at him.

"My 69 Charger is a classic, ya damn heathen." She adds further as her hand falls from the door. She glances through the small window to see the place is pretty empty, then turns to look back at him. "Ya got kicked out again, didn't ya?" She asks, her phone now tucked in to one of the hand warmer pockets of her jacket. "What did you do this time?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Ffft, I sound way different when I have a dick in my mouth, shows what you know." Wade makes another dismissive _pfft_ sound as if to lock down that insult, showing her what's for. He then pushes himself to his feet to stand in front of her, wiping a forearm over where his mouth would be behind that mask, then crinkles his nose.
    "It's not bad, not bad, I mean it's no Mustang that's for sure. And not as bad as if you had one of those new ones. I'm willing to let it go for now." He makes a motion with one hand as if granting her his most holy indulgence, making the sign of spectacles, testicles, wallet, watch as he has seen done in various churches.
    Then she brings up the horrible situation with Harry as another couple walks past them to enter the bar. "Yeah, yeah I did. Ya know..." She asks him about what he did and his reply, "I'm not entirely sure."
    He takes a step away from the door, but hovers in that way people do when they're not sure which way life will take them. "I had this whole thing I set up all night about Emma Watson and how Harry had a secret shrine to her, but then I started reading from my Harry Potter fanfic and suddenly he's throwing me out."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue steps back from the door to let that couple go inside, offering them both a warm smile as they pass between she and the Deadpool. She waits for it to close again, the door that is, before she looks at Wade with a suspicious stare. "This place ain't a hero bar, nor a Luchadore bar. Your weapons, and your outfit, probably scare a lotta Harry's customers. Wouldn't be surprised if he was puttin' his foot down about that part, at least..." She says, both her hands stuffed in the side pockets of her jacket.

"Emma Watson? From Harry Potter?" She asks, confused. She glances over her shoulder, then back at Wade. "You're makin' thatup. Harry was still old even when Harry Potter came out, and she was like 12. why would he have a shrine of her? He seems more like a ... Nicole Kiddman kinda guy t'me. Ya know, late 80s, early 90s ladies..." She says, smirking big at him. "I figure if anyone has a crush on a dame from Harry Potter, it's you, mouth breather...." She teases him.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Well yeah, no shit, she's an angel from heaven and I wouldn't dare think unclean thoughts about her, shut your face." He rattles those words off in a steady roiling stream that takes roughly two seconds to say. Then he's shifting posture to the side and motions, "But that's beside the point, I had hardly any weapons. Barely any." He says despite the katanas on his back still being rather... prominent in their display.
    "And really the mask is for the benefit of everyone else. If I was really wanting to stifle his custom I'd have it off." A beat, then he adds, "And order the barbecue wings. With extra sauce."
    He then seems to look a little thoughtful with those eyelets lifting and widening ever so slightly as he places a hand to his belly, and as if on cue there's a rumble that's rather audible. He takes a deep breath, siiiighs heavily.
    "Need to remember to eat first, then get thrown out." He shifts back to her, "Also shame on you, Nicole Kidman is barely into her seventies." Then he raises his voice to shout into the bar.
    "THOUGH YOU'RE RIGHT ROGUE, HARRY PROBABLY IS TOTALLY INTO OCTOGENARIAN PORN!"
    He lowers his voice and looks back to her. "Anywho. I was sorta here to celebrate. A little. Successful op thing."

Rogue has posed:
When you're around Wade, you can pretty much only smirk at everything he says and does. Sometimes it goes right over her head, other times she thinks he's seeing a completely different world around them than she is. Some part of her respects the madness though...

Having moved to the handicap parking sign, that he was previously occupying the bumper of, Rogue leans against the metal sign post, and just tilts her head toward the masked man. "Why don't you ask Hank for one'a those image inducers that Kitty uses for Lockheed? She turns him inta all kindsa things, like a cat, or a dog... or... Okay, I guess that is all I've ever seen her do with it. But surely it could turn you inta someone like... Will Ferrel? Or Jimmy Kimmel? Or would those options be worse than what you already are?" She asks with a little grin, her own humor maybe not as sharp as his, but she tries!

"Celebratin what? My birthday?" She asks, before cooing in that female way. "That's so sweet you rememberd...."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Another one? Did you do the... what was it, mud wrestling thing? Well crap." He digs into one of those side pouches and pulls out what can only be described as a phat wad of cash held in a perfectly legit looking bank note wrap. He holds up the bills and peers at them with narrowed shrewd eyes, then peers over at Rogue with those same so judgey shrewd eyes. He casually then tosses the mass of wrapped hundred dollar bills to her.
    "There, knock yourself out. Buy yourself a few dozen more costumes because you have SO FEW." He raises his voice for the last two words, saying them quickly and shaking his head as if having a small moment of personal exclamation. "But yeah, so we did a thing. Each of us got like 4.5 million, clean haul, super nice. Mostly."
    He turns his head slightly to the side, white eyelets narrowing even moreso angrily as he points at her, "Though fuck Josh Brolin."

Rogue has posed:
When he tosses that wad of cash at her, Rogue pulls her gloved hands from her side pockets and catches it. She holds it with a confused air about her movement as her eyes take it all in. She seems a bit grossed out by it. "Why does this smell like a sock?" She has to ask, before she starts trying to organize it. "God, this is a lot of money, Wade..." She softly says as she tries to form a more organized stack out of it all. "This isn't like... drug moneyk, or somethin', is it?" She further inquires before her eyes go back up to him. She peers at his white eyelets for a few seconds. "Ya really are grumpy tonight, huh? Harry musta gotten under your skin..." She glances back over her shoulder, hearing music coming from inside the bar, the jukebox likely turned on. "Want me to go get you back in?" She asks. "I can sweet talk'im. He loves me like a daughter." She says with a momentary beaming smile.

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "What? No." Wade's rapid response is given along with a slight psssht and a gesture to the side. "No drugs. Illicit underground secret auction with an over-funded buyer. We stole a..."
    His words stop as he draws up short and she can see his lips under the mask sort of twisting a little as he worries at the lower one with his teeth, sorta biting it thoughtfully. "Shit what was it? Oh!" He exclaims, "One of Thor's hats. Sold it to get access to the auction. And there we stole like... all the things. Was pretty great. Bad guys got caught, we made some money, boss was happy. Perfect run."
    But she recognizes the inherent grumpiness as he rests his hands on his hips. "Dunno though, sits uneasy. Feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
    When she offers to get him invited again he shakes his head, "Naw, I'll prolly hit up the..." He gestures down the road, "Well, not the Arby's. Not the McDonald's. Maybe the... Pizza Hut?" He again chews his lower lip.
    Then out of nowhere, "Did you know they don't have potato cakes anymore at Arby's?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue's eyes are down on the bills, a half a stack of reasonable sorting already accomplished. "I'm not gonna get arrested if I try to spend any of these, am I? How the hell am I gonna launder all of this..." She states with a heavy sigh. She's sure it's not on the level, and likely being tracked by some corrupt Letter Agency. But, she likes money, and likes spending it too.

"And of course I knew that, everyone knows that. Arby's is a innovative place. They're always pushin the boundaries on taste, and tantalizing menu options."

She looks up at wade, her eyes narrowing again. "This isn't child traffickin money, is it? I swear t'god, I'll call Angel Studios on your ass so fast..." Uh oh. Look out.

The door to the bar opens up, and a few young men step out, laughing to each other. Rogue looks back at them, their eyes lock on her. She offers them a smile, and each one of them fire off a 'What's up?' 'How you doin?' 'Cold enough for you?'. Rogue just offers them a few little words in greeting as they meander toward their car a few spaces down. When she looks back to Wade, she has a more flat expression.

"Why don't you get a job at Arby's, and fix the system? Time to go straight, Wade."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    Wade's head cocks to the side as if he were a dawg and she had just asked him about string theory. He looks at her with those white eyelets as if he had never ever really looked at her and he was not liking what he was seeing. But then he sort of fights off a shiver and then holds up a hand, "I'll be nice, it's your birthday. I'll be nice."
    Though when she asks about child trafficking he can't hold back, "Hey hey! I'll have you know this money is totally clean. At most I think maybe some neckbeard in Florida might be missing his favorite Avengers mementos. Other than that..."
    And then those young men are walking by and giving her greetings, Wade's giving them some of his own though slightly more subdued than hers or their's.
    "Yeah, hey.
    "Hey."
    "Hey there."
    "Yeah fuck off."
    That last gets him a squinty look from one of the locals but then he's right back to talking to Rogue. "You know, I could. Except weren't you listening? Independently wealthy now. I'll maybe... I dunno, hire Gordon Ramsey to make me some potato cakes."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue just rolls up the last stack of bills, and tucks it in to a pocket of her jacket's inner lining. She shakes her head gently at what he states. "You and I both know that won't be the same. Ya gotta get the psychological fix of havin' the paper bag handed to ya from the window, an' your car fill up with the scent'a the food boilin' hot inside'a the bag. That scent fillin' up your car as you drive somewhere safe t'pull over an' enjoy the meal, with a nice ice cream shake, an' a large order'a curly fries..." The longer Rogue spoke there, the more seductively intoned her voice became, as she seemed to be trying to openly seduce Wade through the talk of Arbys. "Mmm, that flavor, that crunchy delicious outer layer'a salty goodness." She adds, before smirking at him again.

"But sure, just go home an' pay some old guy t'cook it for you, I'm sure that'll have the same effect." She changes her tune back to casual mode, as she turns back toward the bar. "Thanks for the cash, Wilson. I'm gonna go buy the place a round'a drinks, maybe see if Harry can cook us up some curly fries too."

Wade Wilson has posed:
    "Ahhh, shit." Wade says as he succumbs to the imagery that Rogue summons palpably within his thoughts. His head turns to the side and he looks off into the distance, hands now resting on his hips as if he were considering the very future with the pomp and pride of a true visionary.
    Then he looks back at her and keys in on the latter half of what she says. "Is Gordon Ramsey old?" He asks and then his eyebrows rise, "Crap, everybody's old these days." Then he adds, "Except me!"
    When she starts to take her leave he gives a nod. "Sure sure, happy birthday Roguelet. Your car still sucks ass." He gives her a fingergun and pops it, winking a little as if telling her with the subtext that okay maybe that car doesn't suck ass.
    And then he turns to walk to his shady ass looking white pest control van.