5234/Agent Furby

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Agent Furby
Date of Scene: 17 February 2021
Location: Gun Range: Triskelion
Synopsis: Deadpool confuses Peggy with his beautiful face and many truths, upon a visit to the Triskelion accidentally.
Cast of Characters: Wade Wilson, Peggy Carter

Wade Wilson has posed:
There's a very suspicious situation happening out at the gunrange. There's an ordinary looking agent that /appears/ to have credentials ... from afar. A closer inspection, though, has set off a variety of strong security measures - because this agent has changed about four times since he arrived - a few slightly different looking men. None of them matching real agents.

Tracking exactly where he got in is another issue. It seems he originated somewhere by the swimming area (???), now that security is looking at him, that much became apparent. Due to the level of intrusion, a high response is likely being created to deal with the potential threat. Still, perhaps it is some sort of time or reality warped figment, as it has not yet caused any actual disturbance or spoken to anyone.

At this time, his appearance is that of a fluffy red-haired SHIELD cadet, and he's alone on the gunrange, quietly talking to himself while fiddling with some ear-protection headphones.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While there was some debate over how heavy a team they should send in after the disturbance, Peggy's been watching a few of the security videos. She gives them a little huff, "It's *one person*... barging in there with five is going to almost guarantee a violent response. We could try talking, gents, for once. It works on occasion." And, with that, Peggy defies probably what her higher ups would prefer, but none of them are around. She's the highest level on the scene so she's barging in as she pleases. Some of the old wild west of the SSR is still in her veins, it seems.

Since she wasn't planning on going out on duty today, but she *did* plan for the gun range, she steps in with her few personal weapons and wearing her usual clothes. That is, a dark green, 1940s styled swing dress, T-strap heels, and her ever present red lipstick. She slips into an alley near him, not right next to and she's careful to keep her body between her weapons and him, but she seems to be getting ready for some routine practice. "...Haven't seen you about before?" Her British accent chirps in quietly.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"...With or without popcorn," the man is saying quietly to himself, as if he were talking into an earpiece. Which could, of course, be dangerous spy behavior - and a code for something extremely sinister.

Popcorn could translate to nuclear warheads.

"Ah! Hi!" says the cadet brightly, with a lift of head and a rather obvious direct stare at her attire. He doesn't seem armed; there's a gun set to the side at the firing range table, but he doesn't reach for it or show any body language suggestive of aggression. Which potentially is not unusual among world-class secret agents or spies.

"I... feel like I've time traveled. That's exciting. Is it the year twenty-twenty one? I'm aiming for Valentine's Day." He brings his palms together in a prayer-like motion, thoughtful, but sort of ... concerned. "Or if not that, I'll just say that I like the dress, rarely seen on the gunrange, and appreciate the level of good taste."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Time... travelled?" Now, suddenly, Peggy is even more suspicious. The gun she could handle. The weird phrasing was not that bad. But the thought of going through ANOTHER time travel incident not even a month after the last? That is a bit too much. Dark eyes stare at him a little wider than they were previously. She lets a too-pleasant, attempting at calming smile creep across her red lips.

"Uh... aiming for... Valentine's Day. And just where were you coming from, ... Agent? Yes, it is 2021." She affirms that last neatly, but her calm and sweet veneer is only just barely hiding a very dangerous woman who is ready to defend her home at a moment's notice.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"2021. Present time. I wasn't attempting to time travel. That's a relief, then," the red-haired agent 'chatters', with clear pleasure, and a deep breath. For an experienced angent such as Carter, the longer the man talks -- the easier it is to see, probably quite clearly, that she's getting some sort of anxiety-driven stream of consciousness chatter. "You seem like a trustworthy badass sort. I'll come clean. I am ... /Technically/ not an agent. Yet. Or before. Or in other timelines. ...Realities, I'd really have to check. It's possible there are more than a few evil me's. But who can't say that about their other me's?"

With a pat of one finger to his chin, the not-agent seems to take stock, or a breath, and his brown eyes snap to her with a sudden swiftness of registration. "May I use your gunrange for maybe fifteen minutes to an hour? I will abide all posted rules."

Peggy Carter has posed:
As the man goes on about not being an agent yet, Peggy's shoulders stiffen and her back straightens just a bit more. She takes a step closer to him, her body fully between any weapon she brought into the room and the seemingly nervous redhead. Her expression looks less than understanding as she peers him over, hands resting on her hips but quite lightly. She's readying for a fight to start any second.

"Are you saying you *are* an agent in other realities? And how did you get in here, if you are not an agent *here*? What IS your name and what are your intentions? I'm sorry, I cannot allow you free use of this gunrange without some explanations... So. Start explaining." Peggy's voice is edging on harder, far more the stiff matronly disciplinarian she was most of her late career, especially in the training range.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"I apparated." There's a 'poof' motion of both hands, palms spreading and splaying apart. "Windgardium Levio-sa not involved. --- Teleported. I wanted a good spot. It wasn't an intentional breaking-and-entering situation. It's recharging. For my reference, if it happens, should I immediately notify everyone? I went with 'subtly blend in' until I could remove myself. I'm Agent Colin Furby today." Colin Furby smiles.

"Not actually an agent anywhere. I mean. Hydra wants me, but Hydra wants all sorts of shiny dangerous things they can't have, and I am not a weapon. I mean, not ONLY a weapon. I have feelings and I write bad poetry."

"I suppose you could argue that's a weapon."

"Damn it, focus."

Focus comes. He wasn't telling her to focus, but himself. "I got a little off topic. What exactly do you want to know?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
While the very strangely named non-agent hasn't shown a moment of violence, Peggy is hesitant to reach for her ICER, but her hand rests just a little bit more loosely at her waist. Ready any moment to need it and maybe very, very faintly creepy towards it by millimeters. But she's not trying to spook him. So she listens, that awkward, strange smile still in place.

"You teleported beyond all our security. Do you know where you are? *Why* you teleported here? And what is your *actual* name...every day, not just today. Honesty will get us progress, intruder. You did not subtly blend in well so, yes, when you intrude on our premisis, you should notify us immediately until we can get you an escort out."

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Yes. I'm definitely in your system as Deadpool. I cannot imagine not being in it, I'm often kind of busy. I'm really not here to be any trouble. Actions speak louder than words -- I really hope, considering how many words I use. Ummmmmm."

Deadpool/Colin Furby pauses, his gaze moving lightly to the movement of hand that Peggy made. He's picking up on that very quickly, like a well trained agent. Which possibly escalates things beyond where they otherwise could have been.

"I liked your pool and gunrange. Tiny tour, I admit." Two fingers held up to show a tiny amount of space. He releases deep breath and extends one hand out towards where the gun is on the table. "I'm gonna pick that up, and we can do the escorting thing. Okay? If you want to shoot me I won't take it personally, but I don't want to leave that here in particular. Though it's not about fingerprints, since I don't have those. More just OCD of picking up after myself."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The moment his hand is going towards his weapon, Peggy's eyes go wider and her own ICER is out, in her hand, and levelled to him as quick as humanly possible. Now, she is still just human. A human at peak performance, but human. He might be able to out speed her if he tries, but Peggy's in all business mode now. "STOP. Do not go NEAR that weapon. You will be returned your weapon when you are OFF site, if there are no warrants out for your arrest. Freeze now. This is your only warning." Peggy's words are snapped and fierce, not a tease or a joke. She will shoot him.

Wade Wilson has posed:
Itchy-fingers move a little but he doesn't get any closer to it. He's staring at her, and then pulls his hand back, and tilts his head up and back, birdlike. "I mean. I have like eight other weapons on me. I'm just not trying to be a litterbug." Which is either the man being crazy, or continuing to be uncomfortably truthful.

"So. Sure. Okay, Agent. Can I have a name too? I can make one up if you rather. 'Agent' just feels so awkward, like it needs a second half. Agent Scully, that okay?" Deadpool chats with his hands, scratches his head, fiddles around, in a fearless way. He looks around. "Exit that way?" he asks, and moves two steps slooooowly towards the main common areas, as if more waiting for her to come too rather than out of concern of getting shot.

Peggy Carter has posed:
He's ceased reaching for his weapon, so Peggy doesn't actually pull the trigger of her's. She carefully steps over, good to her word, and scoops up the gun he's left behind. She keeps her ICER levelled on him in her free hand, but does appear to be willing to walk him and his weapon out of the building. Especially if what she vaguely remembers about a report on him is true. Chances are, there might be other agents scrambling to take him down anyway.

"Carter. Agent Carter is just fine." If anyone knows their history, that's quite a famous name. Maybe she's mocking him but she also looks just like the woman in all those black and white photos. "...I've read at least one file on you, Deadpool, and it wasn't exactly kind. I hesitate to believe you simply popped into SHIELD for a recreational break..." She's nodding for him to continue, down and out the hall. She is following.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Yeah, I /know/ I have some weird literature," Deadpool laments, with a gesture of arms out from chest in deep agony. It's like he's used to over-gesturing. It's to combat the lack of expression when he's wearing a mask. He is in a mask, even if his tech device is currently covering that.

There's no reaction to the name having significance. He doesn't flip out over everything - or may just not recall or know. "I was trying to get to a place to fire guns. But that is a recreational break for me, so that IS accurate. Does my file say I'm a liar? That's disappointing." He's crushed, and is frowning deeply and being led like a lost puppy.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"There are plenty of publicly accessible shooting ranges, Mr. Deadpool. I suspect you could have managed into any one of those instead of a highly security international agency." Peggy's stiff British tone isn't wavering at all as she follows him slowly into the hallway. Even with that lost puppy look on her face, she's stern and stiff in the face of what could simply be manipulation.

"So...let's try again. Why pick SHIELD to break into?" She's still managing to be calm, even in the face of this very strange set of circumstances. She sees something, a shadow of a guard or someone, out of the corner of her eye and she gives the smallest shake of her head. No. She's got this. She just can't gesture with her hands because one is keeping a weapon trained on him and the other is keeping his gun trained on the floor, ever a disciplined shooter herself.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"I could probably come up with some reasons but I feel like that will antagonize you futher," sighs 'Agent Furby'. "It happened." It just happened, and he's not in a place to have a real answer. His mood contains a mild frustration or disjointed quality, as if it upset him some. "I'll try to think hard for you."

He does seem to be making an effort. But then.... There's a sudden change of mood, following a weird little tech 'BINK' sound. "Oh! I'm charged up. I can teleport out. Tell you what -- take the bullets out so it's all disarmed-like, and I'll take that weapon back? I'll just poof, and we can all just go on with everything. Good?" Deadpool stops where he is, beaming, and looks pointedly at the gun she's carrying for him.

But then he checks himself. He flips the hand back, palm out, and draws away. "That's worse, isn't it. Walking outside. Righty-o, agent."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A little groan escapes her lips, "Yes, that's worse! But..." She considers. If their techs were monitoring this closely, they might be able to get whatever frequencies or wavelengths he's using to teleport on to block them in the future. Peggy sighs, studying him with cool, uncertain eyes. She then starts removing all the bullets from his gun and turns it smoothly back in his direction, totally emptied now.

"Just...leave. However you see fit. And if you return, you will be arrested, questioned, and locked away until we are certain you aren't a threat to this organization, do you understand?" Peggy asks levelly, not trying to sound angry or threatening, but just explaining the very tense situation he's created.

Wade Wilson has posed:
Deadpool seems to listen attentively, and accepts the gun ack when it's offered, palming it. He also tried to brush the side of her fingers with one forefinger. He's got gloves on, by the /feel/ of it if he does end up touching her. Which his visual 'illusion' doesn't. More reasons for alarm.

"I have a thing for handcuffs sometimes. I'm not sure if you're asking me to come /back/ or not," admits the merc, with an undertone of shy flirtation. It's slightly awkward, a gentler tone of flirt, not direct, like he's softly flattered. "I mean, we could arrest me now. If it's you. We've got a good repore, I feel like. I'm not trying to make this weird. That's just sort of a byproduct. Like if I shut off my magic disguise, I feel like it'll just get more weird. Not as weird as if I decided to look like Elvis, though."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Now that his emptied weapon has been turned over, Peggy's hands both go to her ICER, steadying it in the way that comes from literal decades of training and muscle memory. It hasn't left being pointed at him and the chill in her eyes says she's not scared to use it, she's also not trigger happy. She tries to ignore the faint shiver that goes through her as his touch definitely doesn't match the visual illusion.

"Deadpool. If you wish to remain on... at all... decent terms, then yes, I suggest you drop the illusion and let me properly see you for the record. Trust me, I've seen stranger and I can handle it. But a web of lies isn't helping your case in the least."

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Sure. I mean, I brought it up to express and live my TRUTH," Deadpool explains, pulling a hand in to his opposite wrist and shutting off the image inducer.

The new visual doesn't match the chatterbox playful mouth and voice any more than the red-haired agent did, really. The black and leather, sleek and viciously functional, is covered in sheathed weaponry, ammunition. Many of the guns are very nasty, none of it made to stun.

"I am Batman," Deadpool deadpans through his mask. And then giggles and teases, "Web of lies, yes, sorry-not-sorry." He flutters his hands near his thighs in an anxious, bored manner, weight shifted. All of the physical behavior is consistent: same guy. "I take selfies though, if you want one: unalike Batman, who is NOT up for such fun."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The senior agent stares quietly at the man, looking up and down across the black clad figure quietly. Masked, of course, so she knows as little as she did before. But the weapons are all noted and, instead of getting a dramatic overreaction or fear from her, Peggy is simply smirking. "You are... certainly not Batman. The one thing I've believed out of your mouth is that, yes, you are Deadpool. Otherwise..."

Peggy begins a slow circle around him, walking the hallway as she gets a good measure of his entire form and mentally inventories just how many weapons he has on him, "I suspect you popped in here because you knew it'd cause trouble and you wanted someone to talk to... if you were arrested, at least being interrogated would mean you don't have to go home alone and speak to no one but the wall. You're not just bored... You're lonely." And there's Agent Carter's own secret weapon. The profile. Even if she can't see his face.

Wade Wilson has posed:
Deadpool stays still and quiet, observing her. He's not unreadable at all: the mask doesn't block that; one eyebrow is way up, and all of his mood comes through in stance and the hold of his shoulders. He opens his mouth, gestures a little, then says nothing, pulls the hand back, does it again. It's an almost deliberate start-stop hesitation.

"I mean, I did say I wouldn't take it personal if you /shot/ me, but this feels like it's a little personal," Deadpool says, his tone a forced firmness that suggests he's lightly hurt.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I suspect shooting you, while in that suit at least, would be as useless as attempting to arrest a man who can teleport into and out of highly secured facilities. That is to say, not at all. And so I had to use what few defenses I had at my dispoal. I'd say I am sorry for your injury, but you did invade a place many would consider home."

Peggy's smirk softens ever so slightly, her hand finally dropping as she's sure the ICER isn't going to work much better than a conventional weapon would. "There are better ways to make allies... much less friends, than invading their space, you know?"

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Eh, if I knock on the door, I stay on the lawn," Deadpool says with abject dismay. A pause. "Except villain lairs. Usually they're more of an open-door with me. Kind of depends on the one, though. So I take that back. Depends on their outlook, and if I'm there to hurt them heroically."

Deadpool, the onslaught of information that wasn't asked for, but may end up being useful someday.

"This suit isn't bulletproof or knife-proof. Neither am I. I don't really want to be shot in particular right now unless it gets me somewhere. But yeah, treating this like a college campus I might apply to isn't maybe best. But your recruitment is con-fus-ing."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I am not looking to recruit you, Deadpool. My agents need to be team players or people die. You... are most certainly not that, even I can see as such from here." Peggy gives him a smile that is over all genuine. Maybe even edging on bittersweet. Because sure, a part of her would be more than interested in recruiting his type of powers. But much like several others, the risk outweighs the reward, even if the man is lonely.

"Though, I don't suppose while we're sharing, you care to show what's under that mask too. You've seen my face, after all. I'll even buy you a coffee for it?" Peggy asks with an arched brow. She's not immediately kicking him out. This is a fact finding mission -- get as much info on him as he has on them now.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Let me clarify, I don't actually want a job. I sort of want a cameo appearance now and then," Deadpool explains. "Like a temporary badge for the front lobby and the cafeteria. I saw a smoothie machine through the window." Priorities.

The question about sharing causes a birdlike tilt of head. "I don't need to be /bought/ for it. It's just that I don't need the screaming and disgust of doing it in public here. Sometimes it makes me feel sad about myself. And you've shown you go for the feels with a knife," Deadpool says, waggling one finger at her. "Also, I'd prefer a Mountain Dew. Think of my diet like a confused college stoner and you'll get me."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Well...fine then. A Mountain Dew. And a private corner. And you unmask. I promise I won't scream. I've seen worse." There's not a bragging to her tone as she says that, but then simple flatness of a woman who has seen hell and back. Piles of bodies. Melted flesh. Red Skull. Whatever he's got under there, while Peggy expects it's not great, doesn't intimidate her.

Then she gives a little nod in the direction of the cafeteria, motioning him to go first. "I'd say age before beauty, but I'm fairly certain I could be your grandmother. Still. Just there. Door to your left. Fine a proper corner. Go on now. This is what you wanted, right?" Peggy asks with arched brows. She's still not willing to turn her back to him, but she's clearly moved onto the next round of this chess match.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"I'm pretty sure I'm thirty-ish. Do what you will with that, no need to reveal age. Age doesn't matter to me anyways, one of my best friends is a grandma," Deadpool announces freely. It's his truth - or at least, what he knows. Which lends to being variable. "The best people are grandmas." It's wistful, real, deep, without games.

"Okay-dokey." Corner is found, and Deadpool trots in freely across the cafeteria - gaining all sorts of stares, likely, as he looks like he's there to hold it hostage, dressed like that. But then, there are other heroes that come through, doubtless, so why not this one -- and with Agent Carter there, no issue.

"OOh, fruit." Detour, to pick up an apple and a banana from the stand, then veer towards a private spot.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A few brief looks are exchanged with some agents in the room, Peggy having holstered her ICER now. She's still armed and ready to use it, but she's not treating him like they are in a standoff and she's ready to shoot any second. She swings by the vending machine, getting a sealed Mountain Dew for him (she is polite like that, instead of using the fountains) and then she follows the stares of various agents across to where Deadpool has disappeared. "...Don't you all have *work* to do. Come on, get on with it. This isn't the zoo. I've got it in hand." And she's using her stern voice there, which makes several eyes snap back to their own business.

Peggy then crosses the rest of the way to him, setting down the offering of the Mountain Dew with a business like, distant smile. "There. Mountain Dew. Still sealed, so you know I'm on the up and up. No sodium barbital or any of that messiness."

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Spiking drinks! As if I were lying. So suspicious. But spies. I get it. Special spiff agents doing their jobs. Good to not do it though, I'm already a little interesting, let alone with some kind of super-spy drug going on. You'd get a recipe for dip." Deadpool sets both elbows on the table, propping his chin on them, smiling even through the mask.

He pauses to look past her, and finger-wave at the last person who was looking before they turn away due to Peggy's firm voice. "You're like momma bear here, huh?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
The comment about the dip recipe gets him a good smirk, but there might be a moment of genuine amusement there too. "I'd be more likely to get a very long, rambling story about your grandmother friend filled with entirely too many details I didn't need but, yes. Let's keep the war crime drugs out of it, shall we?" For as stiff and British as she is, Peggy does seem to have that biting sort of humor which says she was probably fun (at least at some point back in her day.)

She's claimed a cup of coffee for herself, her nose not entirely thrilled with it, but she doesn't have the patience or time to make a proper cup of tea, so coffee it is. She settles fully across from him, legs crossing neatly below the table as she watches him just a bit closer. "I don't know if Mama Bear is...quite the description. But something like that. Yes."

Wade Wilson has posed:
If Peggy expects the mask to move, she may realize she'll have to pull his attention back to it. He's drifted, and is sitting there playing with rolling the apple between his hands on the table, and cheerfully engaging in conversation with her.

"Not accurate? How would you say it, then, if not a Mama Bear?" Wade inquires. There's genuine, real interest there. He does, at least, seem to care, or be curious: the empathy isn't fake.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I got your drink... and you've found an apple as well, so... Now that we're settled, how about getting that mask off. Just for me. I made certain the audience went back to their proper work." Peggy isn't going to just forget, even if he is. After all, she's taking precious time out of a too busy day to try and wrangle information out of this wildcard.

An uninterested sip of her coffee is taken, the sort of sip out of polite habit but she also has no real interest in consuming her beverage. It's more an excuse to be taking up a tiny corner of the cafe. "I do not have children, nor am I a bear, so...In accurate. I'm a senior agent. We shall leave it at that."

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Huh? Oh. You're sure you want me to pull my face off? Well, alright." Deadpool is dubious, but there isn't a sense of actually dodging it entirely from him. He puts the apple down and then slides his fingers up and back to the neck of his mask, and pulls it up and over his lower jaw, exposing neck and chin. His skin is wretched already: mottled, ropey texture: patchy with cysts and exposed, angry vein and skin lesions.

He pauses there, but then does pull it all the way off, with a weird half-yawn, setting the mask aside and staring at her. It's only worse - no eyebrows or hair: painfully wrecked visage. It's hard to even exactly guess what happened to him: it isn't a burn, it looks more like a really horrible disease.

"Ta-daaaa. Hence, the mask."

Peggy Carter has posed:
There's no wincing, disguist, or even abject pity on her face as Peggy sees him. She frowns a bit, more worried than anything, as she says, "...I hope you aren't in... too much pain? If you came for medical assistance you...could have asked. But yes, I have seen worse. Doesn't mean it's not... miserable for you. One way or another." And Peggy takes a simple sip of her coffee, carrying on as if they were talking about an annoying hangnail or maybe some elective surgery, not that he'd revealed such a ruined, wreck of a face to her that some others may have puked on seeing it. Very little phases Peggy Carter.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"I'm upset over the loss of my modeling career," Wade mourns, though it may be hard to tell if he's just making a joke about it to cover any other emotions going on underneath. It does, though, seem to be something he cares about - as previously he didn't want people screaming at him in reaction.

"Eh, your medical can't do anything for me. Kind of you though. I have cancer of the cancer." He gestures and flutters a hand up over his face, and then gestures to the side of his temple, with a gun tap-tap gesture. Rampant brain cancer could explain ... probably everything...

Cheerfully, he picks up the apple and begins to eat it, as well as opening the soft drink and having some of that, with a wriggle of ass in his seat to get cozy.

"Do you want my banana?" He offers it. Probably no innuendo.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Cancer...of the cancer..." Peggy repeats, not exactly skeptically, but she's working on wrapping her mind around exactly how that would work. Her head tilts, studying the legions on his face and the ropiness of his skin a little deeper before she makes a quiet guess. "Something in you is...keeping it in check. Nominally. A... mutation, maybe? Or drug treatment? With side effects that aren't exactly...helpful to your life, but let it continue, in the very least. Do I have it right?" Peggy asks curiously, her voice still unbothered by the site of the man across from her. She really is all business.

"And...no, I think I am fine with coffee. But thank you." She politely responds about the banana. She isn't going to let him get her off track but she's also not going to be rude and completely ignore him.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Oh yes, might be immortal, not really sure. All tests so far point to yes. Suspect that I can't die, but science can't prove a negative. So until I die, it's up in the air," Deadpool laughs, drawing one hand in to rub over his face. It's a little awful to watch. "Gets itchy and suffocating in there, this is refreshing. Not for you, though, obviously." He grins immediately. The awful lips ruin it, but the emotion is there: an honest, pleasant quality despite the terrible facial problems.

Deadpool flicks his eye sideways at her, and taps the tech object on his left wrist --- and the visual of Agent Furby reappears. The mask remains to the side. And the blush that wasn't obvious due to the wreckage of his face shows on Agent Colin Furby's face. "So, what percent am I sitting for arrest now? Have I gone down to like... thirty percent, showing some trust?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I mean... even if I *did* arrest you, it seems you have teleportation capabilities, no? You could get in an out of this facility as you needed and there's little we could do about it. Unless you care to explain to me what exactly enabled you to teleport into this place?" Peggy asks with a tilt of her head. The return of Agent Furby gets him an actual frown -- more of a slightly displeased look than his actual face. Peggy doesn't care for disguises, it seems. She prefers earnesty whenever possible.

Wade Wilson has posed:
"Yeah, I have magic tech. I don't understand how it works. Sometimes it doesn't work, sometimes it does. Kinda like me. We're well suited together. Explain the unexplanable just gives a headache, not worth it," chatters Deadpool. His body language adjusts a little again: he /was/ self-conscious about his appearance and discussing it so directly, even if he did very well to blur that edge and distract himself. But he's aware he's visually roadkill that some tires slid through.

He's working through the apple at a good clip, his attention often on it. There's a buzz of vibration, and he sits forward to pull a phone out. It's bright teal, with Lisa Frank dolphin stickers on the back. He fiddles with it a moment distractedly. "Ooh, my friend sent me lives." He puts the phone away, though. "I'm on level 8 of Rainbow-Joy-Pony-2."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I... wait... What? Is that a thing?" Peggy stares at his phone, genuine confusion on her face. She really is NOT up with any sort of phone game at all, or even that you can really use your phones to play them. It's not been an important part of her life, ".. Lives? Is... you have to be joking. Rainbow-Joy-Pony-2 is not a real thing. Come on, Deadpool. Let me see what intel you are feeding to the outside. I'm going to have to confiscate that, you know?" Peggy's hand reaches out, palm up, waiting impatiently for the phone so she can see what info he's sneaking out to someone else.

"Who is your friend and were they the ones that sent you in here? Magic tech or not, we're going to need some scans. For our own protection, you understand. We can't just let anyone wonder around these halls, much less someone feed intel to the outside."

Wade Wilson has posed:
"If you can beat level 8, I'll let you borrow it," Deadpool answers abruptly, but removed the phone without any pause at all and handed it over. There's zero upset or annoyance over any of it: just pulled the phone and let her look.

There's a variety of recent messages like 'Your Pony SPARKLETITS misses you, come play with her!', 'Your friend BIG80085 sent you 3 lives!' and similar related things. Tapping on any of them does, in fact, launch the game. Deadpool seems disinterested, and eats his apple.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The older woman does know HOW to use a phone, so she can scroll the thing and figure out what's on the screen. It's not locked. She can tell he's clearly in communication with someone. But she can't make out much more than names like BIG80085 and SPARKLETITS. "...did you honest to god make your coded communication into... pubescent internet code names?" Peggy asks flatly, staring up at him in flat disbelief. She is so certain she's seeing something suspicious here, but she can't tell what. She winces a bit at the overly saccarine sound of the game as a level is lost by the fact she's just holding the phone like that. "I am going to need to keep this for further study. You did break in with an illict device..."

Wade Wilson has posed:
Deadpool's expression falls as the 'lost level' noise plays due to her inaction. "You're wasting the kidness of Big," observes the mercenary, but with a dismayed sad sound, he just sits back, and chews the last of the apple. The banana has been secreted away somewhere; likely a holster where a gun could have been, but isn't visible due to being Agent Colin.

"I don't really do codes, because my memory is not great. Just don't /kill/ my Pony, okay. I worked hard to level her up," Wade requests. He can tell Peggy has gotten outraged, though he can't really tell WHY exactly.

"An illicit? I mean, I kept it in my pants, I --- oh. My phone?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I'm not going to *kill* a horse, Deadpool. We don't tend to torture animals in SHIELD. I just need to make certain that whomever you are reporting this information to isn't in the position to threaten the lives of my people with it. I've seen...more complicated code phrases before. I will manage to break this. But you could save us both time and just tell me who you're communicating with on the outside and if they sent you in here for specific intel?" Peggy seems deadly serious. This phone game has made her more paranoid than all the weapons he has strapped to his back.

Wade Wilson has posed:
Deadpool is picking up his mask, as she debates worriedly over the threats to lives and so forth. He's pulling it back on - and his image inducer does not know what to do about it. It ends up deciding he's wearing a ski hat. It's funky, with a little fluffy pink and blue top, striped.

"Break the code. Riiiiight. .... How else will I convince the Hobbits to go to Isengard?!" Deadpool bursts out, explosively, lunging to his feet and stretching out both hands wide. It's all very comical and his chair falls backwards. He steps back, not realizing, and tumbles over it partially ....

And vanishes when groping forwards to right himself, and .. hits his teleporter.

And with that, Peggy's Deadpool 'experience' seems to have ended, as quickly as it begun.... with only a chirping phone with magical ponies for 9 year old girls to enjoy looking up at her with kawaii eyes.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Don't touch any-!" It's too late. He's touched something, is rolling away, and is gone. Peggy sits there, staring for a few moments, a quiet huff escaping her lips. She drags one hand down her face, a low groan escaping her lips as she looks back down towards the phone and the strange, overly sweet program on it's screen. "You...cannot be real... Nothing is this annoying." She mutters to herself. She then groans and gets up from the table, heading out into the hall. She has an intel device to drop off to the techies and a report to write on a strange figure.