2408/Contractual Obligations

Contractual Obligations
Date of Scene:	10 July 2020
Location:	Domino's Place
Synopsis:	Domino STILL has a visitor, and they make mercenary-plans.
Cast of Characters:	Victor Creed, Neena Thurman

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Victor Creed has posed:
A night of hanging out, drinks, some food (including an additional delivery, because in no way was Domino's food enough to appease her massive visitor), and the result was... a lot of alcohol, really. Not that it has much impact at all on Creed, so that ends up more one-sided. But the catch-up was relaxed and realatively easy, terminating in Creed on the couch going through jobs on his mobile device, still enjoying a drink, overly late.

Dom /probably/ expected him to be gone in the morning.

... He isn't.

There is Creed's mountain of feral muscle stretched out on the couch, one arm entirely off the upper end. He took his shirt and shoes off at some point. The position does not look remotely comfortable, but that's a cat thing: just to liquidly take up all available space and somehow be comfortable. The scent to him is strong, and even without a visual, his long stay on the room means it's possible to detect him even without his obvious drape on the couch.

Neena Thurman has posed:
It was a good night of hanging out. Laughs, moments of intense staredowns, a new hole in the wall... what wasn't to like about the evening? It was actually one of the best nights Domino's had in some time, which is saying something, sadly. She was the first one to fold, however, the first one to say 'Uncle' and turn into a pumpkin.. and with a reasonable assumption he'd be showing himself out later, makes ready for bed.

Now, if there's something about the merc... she doesn't sleep in leathers. Nope. It's her place, and the assumption is that she's alone in her apartment upon waking...

She walks from her room, then, to the less than spacious living room, her bikini bottoms on already, but she's fighting the top; one arm.. two arms.. and as she exits, she's just pulling the sports bra over her form and figure when she lets out a *yerk* to see the draped kitty on her couch. "What the--"

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor's hands jerk just a little bit, the fingers curling in. He doesn't have his talons fully extended, they're the more 'subtle' version of his claws at the moment, inch long. He doesn't form fists - Vic almost never does, but they're immediately at the ready as one of his primary weapons, should there be a threat coming in.

Otherwise, his eyes open to golden slits, as she 'yerks' at him, though he doesn't really move otherwise. If he'd had a tail, it would have lashed, but he doesn't seem to feel a need to get up, or apologize (HAHA) or do anything beyond lord over the couch he's chosen as his current throne. Domino's couch is currently his Pride Rock.

Victor doesn't say anything, just observing her, barely, as if this were entirely acceptable.

Neena Thurman has posed:
That's exactly what she'd said!

*yerk*

That, followed with an abbreviated version of 'what the hell' and 'why are you still here' all smooshed into one exclamation, soon to be turned into an expletive. One certainly exits her mouth before, "When I said 'you can let yourself out', last night, I actually meant.. let yourself out." She points to the couch, "That's mine!" Pride of ownership?

Nope. Just being a jerk.

Domino is stubborn, though.. and makes a growly, annoyed grumpy face at the unexpected 'still' visitor and passes him to wander to the kitchen area to put on a pot of coffee. She's not the least bit modest; can't be. Not really.. not with everything that's happened to her. And, frankly? She's not concerned.

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor watches her with the arrogant laziness appropriate to his position as the stray that was fed and decided to overstay his welcome. He rotates in response to her pointing at the couch to roll over onto his back, with a very deep and deliberate breath. He also scratches his upper chest with a curl of claws, near where a tangle of leather-thong necklaces have now drived up towards his jawline instead of hanging loosely.

Victor makes no move to actually go anywhere or to give up his spot at all, just observes her stalk off to the kitchen, still without actually saying anything. He's just there, without excuse offered. He's curious to see what she'll do.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Domino stands in the kitchen, next to the coffee pot, listening to it make its *burbling* sound as it pours down hot caffeine. A minute, two minutes go by, and blue eyes are flickering from her pot to the couch where languid kitty is opening up his belly, making himself //more// comfortable, if that's possible. For a moment, he doesn't appear to be exactly what he is; apex predator that can and would slice open anything that tickled his fancy. At least, not to her... a merc that borders on the luckiest girl in the world.

One cup is poured, and with a .. put upon sigh, pulls a second mug from her nearly empty cabinet and blows into it to dislodge any dust before pouring another cup. Two, then, are carried over, and with a flick of a pale hand near a body part, she's trying to make room on the couch. Her couch.. and she offers a cup.

"I'm not putting out the cat chow. Not some crazy cat lady." Not //yet// anyway.

Victor Creed has posed:
It's just as well she didn't try to sit on him: that wouldn't have gone over well. He watches her as she comes over, and gestures for him to move. At first, he doesn't: there's some petulant staredown required, but with a snort, he draws his legs back and turns to sit up, dropping feet heavily to the floor, and then arching his back, stretching each length of his spine with a similarly mighty yawn.

"'Cat chow?' Fuck you," Victor snickers while he takes the coffee out of her hand and draws it in to look down into it and sniff near it once. Small, odd little memories of 'chow' in a bowl slid into a locked cell make him bristle just a little.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Even if Dom put rat poison into the coffee, it wouldn't affect Creed, and she knows it. The man is blessed with the same sort of healing as God-damned Logan. If she drank it? She couldn't be sure that even her luck could save her physically; the stars would have to align just right.

Victory is claimed, and the albino merc curls her legs up, and runs her free hand through wild black hair as she takes that first swallow.

Glancing to the oversized male next to her, her lips press into something of a half-wry line, and dark eyebrows rise. "I didn't bother with the cream for the coffee." There's a moment before she exhales and leans slightly to the side, looking to get that brief contact that belies what could be construed as harsh or ill-timed words. The merc never apologizes; she just moves on.

"Am I stuck with you today? If I am, we can go chat with whatshisface." The one that she said she knew for years?

Yeah.. him.

Victor Creed has posed:
Close proximity to Victor suggests he could stand to have a shower. It's not awful, but it is a metallic mix of blood and overly testosterone-laiden sweat. At least partially something Domino should recognize easily for what it is, given her own bloody tendencies. Blood that was wiped off but not /washed/. Victor may just not smell himself anymore or just not care presently.

"The jokes just make themselves," mutters Victor, in regard to the cream, with a disinterested quality. Fun at his expense can be prickly, though he hasn't actually gone on any warpath.

"I'll do it alone if you don't want to go," Victor shrugs, watching her sideways as her bare arm brushes his when she leans in. He doesn't rebuff her, he drinks his coffee: which gives the information that he doesn't mind if she touches him at present mood. Perhaps a rare window.

Neena Thurman has posed:
"Nah, my money's on the line. You're just moonlighting if you go it alone."

And, it'd be one more thing that someone would have on her. Not to mention it'd look like she'd sent the big guy. Domino smiles soon after, and it does reach those cool, clear light blue eyes. "'Preciate the offer."

Shifting now in what little room she's carved out for herself on the couch, she looks at the large, feral man who's taken up a sort of residence on her couch, for the moment anyway. Her head cants and brows rise again, one against that pasty white flesh, the other within her black spot. "Outta curiousity, you got any.. other business in town? I mean, you blow in and blow out, so.. was kinda curious as to what brought you in. Couldn'ta been the hole in the city, could it?"

Victor Creed has posed:
"Don't /always/ just take," Victor grins, with overmuch of fang. He tends to be a little prone to showing his teeth, but it isn't always expressly for aggressive purposes. Much like her physical qualities show, as do his: and what a weird looking pair they are, neither able to walk a street or appear normal to anyone. Even Wolverine is more presentable than Victor is.

"I bring you some shit, you give up some, we trade. Brotherhood business, eh?" Victor chuckles deeply. He has been in the periphery of such things, but still gets the information of what Magneto's group's been up to, as a member.

"X-Men were clearly all over helpin' Genosha, figure they're doin' that here. What d'you know 'bout it?"

Neena Thurman has posed:
While Creed is a crowd-dispersing presence; he parts people like Moses and the Red Sea, Domino is more of a 'what the hell is that?' while still retaining a human form. She's an obvious mutant, unless she's hanging out with the goth crowd, then she's a kick-ass queen and everyone is looking for makeup hints. Neither can walk the street without stares, being pointed at, or cursed at. "Yeah, you do.. mostly," Domino corrects good naturedly, her smile quirking. "Part of your charm. Which makes the offer partly nicer, partly... yeah."

Brotherhood business, and there it is. Genosha.

"Xers are all over it. They're actually coming out into the real world and findin' things aren't pretty without those rose colored glasses. They're //feeling// the hits now. Genosha is easy for them. Island of mutants and they want to look like benevolent leaders. Here?" Dom shakes her head, "They're lookin' to fight back. I told 'em I'm in." Any excuse to take up arms with the unspoken blessing of Xavier?

"I mean, c'mon. I get to pull a trigger with the blessing of X. Not that it mattered to me before, but he's got his fingers in a lot more stuff. Just have to get a little info out of a few people first." She narrows those clear eyes on a pale and black background, and there's an almost feral grin that rises, "X-Force. You in?"

Victor Creed has posed:
"What does it /pay/?" Victor wants to know, the sneer still remaining on his face. He doubts it's particularly lucrative. "I don' get paid in blessings," clarifies the big mutant. "an' they'll never want to give payback like I do, and YOU might lose your invitation, bringing me along." The whole thing is amusing to Victor, he isn't feeling offended by it. "Who the hell /else/ is on that team? Wolverine?" That might be the temptation factor, if it gets him in closer proximity with his rival.

Victor kneads his fingers over the back of his other hand, roving pressure down through the ligaments, which propels a talon out and then back as he rubs into the muscle and tendons there, as if warming up to rip out some Wolverine spleen.

Neena Thurman has posed:
"Pay?" Domino chuffs a laugh at the word and lifts a single shoulder. "Hell, just having access to the crap they have is worth it to me." There is an altruistic side to the albino merc? "I'm warning them that all their 'but' and 'only if' doesn't work. It's an all in and do the job properly or don't do it." She probably sounded a little harsh at the meeting, but her reality is, well, her reality.

"Ya know.. I actually haven't //seen// Logan lately. Couple'a gatherings at the mansion and no sign of him." That's she's aware of, anyway. "Wouldn't wanna see a reunion, though." She quirks that black-lipped smile, "Like you both too much for that. You both have your own... charm."

Victor Creed has posed:
"Access to ALL the crap comes with... the rest of that shit-heap," snorts Victor dismissively. Not worth it at all, to him, really, what comes with it. "Hope you wash your hands after," mocks Victor. "If they are stupid enough to invite me down, though, sure, that could be entertaining." Because he won't follow any guidelines or rules they attempt to impose on him at all.

"No sign of him? If he's been there, I'd know it, and find him," Victor says coldly, with a snap of claws that is actually exceptionally loud and scraping, like a cracked neck. Victor is one of the supreme stalkers and hunters on the planet, with his sense of smell and skills to use it properly; that is no joke.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Domino lifts a shoulder with a shrug, "When I decide that it's not worth the trade, I'll skip. Until then, free ammo, use of equipment like trackers, because some people aren't blessed with a nose like yours, I'll take it." Finally, the merc decides she's going to try and 'shine' after the 'rising'. "And they're not. //I// am. I have the right to have people along that can do a job. I have the right to have a team that I actually know what they can do, and they know what I can do. I don't want to waste time in some training room. I'm done with that." She knows her skills, she's toned, maintained her best shape and at the top of her form. Still. "There's always something people don't tell me."

She pulls herself up and off the couch, though slowly as if she's loathe to move. Time to get dressed; get her leathers on for the trip to visit. "I know you'd find him. You'd find him after he'd been years gone. But, first thing's first. Let's get a payday."

Victor Creed has posed:
Victor stretches his back as well, and moves to his feet in a smooth motion, bending forward in the same one to hook his big boots and shirt off of the clump on the floor that he'd dumped them in. He seems to be listening to her description of how she intends to use the X-Men for their resources, and seems non-reactive to most of it. He doesn't mind her doing that whatsoever.

"Yeh, a'ight. I'm gonna use your shower," Victor says, in a way that doesn't really ask permission, it just is stated. If she wants to tell him not to, or try to adjust that path, she does have the window of opportunity, to some degree. If he was entirely against being blocked he probably wouldn't have said anything at all. Or there's another reason.

"Save time, join if you must," snickers Victor, mostly just to swat her a little: Victor often is a cat at play, batting at someone for no real reason other than he can. He saunters towards the shower.

Neena Thurman has posed:
"G'head," Not that he really needs permission. It's a safe house, a flop house, not her personal apartment. Still, the offer is remarkably considered; seriously considered. It's been a little while since she's had a bit of fun in that sense, and all work and no play makes Domino a dull girl. She pauses, watching Victor's back as he heads towards the bathroom. She seems to change her mind, however, instead diverting her attention to her room to put on her leathers before she has to face the day.