Owner	Pose
Wade Wilson	Wade Wilson's plans for Jean Grey appeared to be ever-evolving every time they came up in conversation, but they're here nonetheless, as he shows up at the X-Mansion on a Tuesday night. Instead of just walking in like he normally does, he rings the door bell. Jean is telepathic enough to know who it is, not to mention they did schedule this, and he's on time. But when the door is open, the sight is a bit strange. It's a handsome man wearing a black suit, leaning against the door. "I know, I know, I look like Ryan Reynolds. For this night out, I needed to borrow an image inducer." He motions to his face. "This is what I looked like before I became a mutant. One of the things we'll do tonight is collect money to prevent an assassination!"
Jean Grey	Getting dressed to go out was a bit of a puzzler: since the plan seems to involve at least a minimum of likely violent shenanigans, assassins and whatnot, Jean had considered more official or at least 'working' attire. But apparently, the venue is a little more black tie- so she comes dressed for a society night out, in a long and fairly covering, yet also snug-fitted turtleneck dress. It might STILL be of whatever bullet resistant material their costumes are made of, because of the whole 'assassins' part and her not being terribly durable, forcefields aside. Green's her color, as ever, with some touches of gold jewelry. "I like the suit. So, where are we going?" she wonders, meeting Wade at the door with a smile. She decidedly doesn't comment on his explanation: its not clear if its a lack of surrpise, or maybe a more purposeful sort of decision with some psychological reasoning behind it. Plus, it's Wade, so a surprise or two is always on the menu. "Collecting money?" she wonders, then, stepping out to join him outside the Mansion doors. "Just to make it extra clear, I'm not doing any 'morally dubious' stuff, Wade. As long as we're preventing violence, that's fine, but, you know, I'm not keen on a lot of that nebulous criminals fighting other criminals stuff."
Wade Wilson	Wade looks her outfit over, and then whistles, "I like turtles." "Don't worry, I'd never compromise the morality of Jean Grey. I plan for this to end in us in sweaters with hot cocoa. For no reason at all, I may have abandoned the Hercules portion of my plan." He heads for and jumps onto the back of a black non-descript motorcycle. It's had lots of things filed off, as he doesn't want to be recognized as //Deadpool// tonight. "So, here's the outrageous story. There's a rich assassin, guy I met back in my Canadian Special Forces days. Stanley the Chemist. He loves to poison people. I'm being paid by his //son//, because he promised his son he'd stop assassinating people, a promise that he's breaking." He starts to rev up the motorcycle, looking back at her. "So we're basically Santa Claus. Now get on my intensely vibrating compensation machine."
Jean Grey	Jean makes a face. No doubt she gets the joke, but Teenage Mutant Ninja Reptile probably wasn't the look she was going for! "Well, that does all sound totally wholesome." How sarcastic the statement is, well, that's somewhat more nebulous. Sons turning their fathers from lives of crime is no doubt very noble and worthy a goal, but can it all be that simple? Following along, Jean climbs onto the bike behind him, and settles in with a certain comfortable familiarity- they're a popular mode of transportation among your durable tough guy mutant demographic. "It's just a bike, Wade," she chides him. "You know, you don't have to make everything quite such a big... thing? You don't always need a joke." And once she's ready, settled in snuggly with her arms around his waist, she suggests: "So, let's ride."
Wade Wilson	"So you're saying that I don't need to compensate for my insecurity and deep-seeded fears about what feels intensely like a date by joking the whole time and self-sabotaging any chance of success?" Wade asks as he very quickly hits the road. "Well, for you, I'll make an exception." The ride isn't too long, mostly because he has a rather dubious relationship with traffic laws. Soon they're in Manhattan proper, and he decides to pull up into a small alley, parking his bike there. "I'm not using a garage, literally every time I use a garage I get ambushed. That actually //isn't// a joke! If everything goes south, much better if my bike is in an alley." He steps off, then offers his arm to her. "You know, I only chose this mission because I wanted to take you to a fancy club but didn't have the guts to ask. Is that sincere enough?"
Jean Grey	"Something like that," Jean agrees without any sense of debate. "I don't necessarily even mean just now, it's just always sort of been your 'thing.' Defensive mechanisms are normal, but when you're running like that almost nonstop, day in and day out, it starts to normalize it, and probably goes a long way toward solidifying those fears and insecurities." Date or therapy session? Traffic laws don't seem to tip the moral ambiguity scale (they do fly a hypersonic spy jet around civillian airspace an awful lot), so there's no complaints on that department. Nor about a little alleyway parking. "Garages are the natural habitat of generic thugs with denim vests and dubiously effective automotive gear turned improvised weaponry," she concedes. They've all been there. Off the bike, she straightens her dress a little, then eyes Wade with his next admission. "I sort of figured that the whole thing was a bit of a pretext," she admits. "But that is what I mean- most people can't read minds, and it would have been really easy to get the wrong idea about all of this. And then you've started things off on the wrong foot, and its awkward. It's really always the best policy to be honest."
Wade Wilson	"Honesty..." Wade considers as he heads out onto the streets of Manhattan proper. There's quite a lot of people out here, actually. Wearing suits and dresses, that is. It's one of those odd nights where //something's// happening in a bunch of clubs at once, but one isn't quite sure what exactly it is. "I never wanted you to bang Hercules." he admits, walking until he gets to a particular club with a lengthy line. It's a club with lots of neon lights, and a simple swooshy font that just says 'Schway'. He's digging into his blazer, not getting into the line yet. "I only said that so I'd sound more secure by not stating what I actually wanted."
Jean Grey	Jean offers a bit of a 'no kidding' expression. "Well, I never wanted to bang Hercules either," she points out. "Well, I don't really know him, so I suppose I ought to give him the benefit of the doubt. But I kind of figured that the over-enthusiastic wingman routine might be a little disingenuous." She grins. "Especially when you pick someone so out-there." Whatever's going on, Jean seems confident as they join the nightlife, the general party-minded crowds. When they reach their actual destination, she gives the line a casual survey, and the bouncer afterward. As a bit of a 'night out' for her, and ostensibly Wade's show, she's not too proactive about trying to sort things out herself, although it's impossible for her not to feel the vibe of the crowd a bit, and indeed, more an effort to keep her thoughts clear around such a roiling mass of excited, energetic humanity. "Do you have any sort of plan I should be aware of? Or do I just play the ditzy moll while you show off your mercenary stuff?" she wonders, more amused by the scenario that overtly concerned.
Wade Wilson	"It's a bit of a hybrid, mercenary stuff and fun club stuff all rolled into one! Do I look like a guy who does a job he doesn't enjoy?" Wade finally finishes digging in his blazer, then takes out a roll of cash, leading Jean to the bouncer to shove the roll at the man. "Yo, bro! My girlfriend and I are YouTube influencers with two-million followers. We're about to put this club on the //map// when we film our new 3am call. You don't ask any questions, and you keep the roll of money." "Sure thing, buddy." the bouncer says as he opens the rope for them, already counting his money with his other hand. "See? Easy." he says to Jean as they head into the club with its flashing lights and booming house music. "First, fun." A few people look at them, particularly her. Some might recognize her, some might just think she looks nice. But he leans over to whisper, "I know you've gotta be responsible, with your great power and all. But I think you should get a read of what some people are thinking. Soak in the compliments, have fun!"
Jean Grey	It's Wade show. So if he prefers dumping a roll of cash, Jean's not one to argue about the relatively cheaper alternatives that might be available. However, once they move a bit past the bouncer (not that he cares), she does have to look over with a moderately dubious expression: "Youtube influencers? Really?" Yes, maybe it's a bit of a stretch for her, and more appropriate to some of the current class of students. But once they're inside, no one really cares about their fake occupation. "If I don't control it, I don't have any choice -but- to soak it in," Jean points out, a little more pointedly. "I spend a lot of time tuning it out." The comment isn't harsh, but does carry the sense of a bit of a dose of reality, perhaps to give him a glimpse at how mutant life can be different for everyone. "So I've been hearing what guys think about me since I was far too young for it to be remotely appropriate." BUT she doesn't linger on those somewhat creepier implications, and her expression never reveals any sign of the thought. Because she is very good at these things by now, listening, filtering, focusing. She does get attention, but she makes sure no one is going to think of her much more business-like photo on the Xavier School Facebook page when they look at her. Not that most would, the context being so different, other things at the fore of their mind. But if for some reason they do, it's an easy 'nudge' fix. "Anyway, it seems mostly like a normal crowd to me so far," she allows, as they make their way along. "All the usual energy. Fun and excitement, people meeting their inhibitions and pushing past them." One thought she shares for the sake of Wade's self-esteem: "Plenty of dudes jealous of a certain mercenary in a suit."
Wade Wilson	"We've gotta make it look realistic. YouTube couples usually have a bit of a weirdo and a normal-seeming woman team." Wade points out, holding a single finger up as he delivers modern wisdom! "We could always make them more jealous. I'm sure we'll find Stanley if we just enjoy ourselves." He reaches for her hand, trying to drag her out onto the dance floor with its flashing square lights, mostly purple and blue, like a modern disco. "So, you can hear what I'm thinking if you listen?" he asks, suddenly trying to repress a variety of images, which ironically only makes them louder. Bizarrely, his loudest thought about her is frequently Jean in the sweater drinking hot cocoa. Even in a sea of all manner of expected lewd things he thinks about her, the hot cocoa and sweater are always the most loud. "While we're out here, you know, with this getting to know each other time. I've gotta ask, do you //ever// use your codename anymore? You know, like how I'm Deadpool, Rogue is Rogue... It's just one of those things I wonder."
Jean Grey	"Oh, do they?" Jean wonders, maybe intentionally dubious, maybe actually unsure about modern Youtube sensibilities. Either way, she follows Wade out onto the floor. "So our plan is to have a really good time until your contact finds us?" There's a hint of doubt, although she doesn't make it concrete, giving Wade a little wiggle room to work in. "Yes," she then admits - or warns? - about what she can hear. Although, from her amused smile, nothing that's coming across is so horrifying that it exceeds waht she's used to. "Well, that's the quick answer. The complicated answer is, well, complicated. Thoughts have a volume, just like your voice," is the terminology Jean uses to explain the phenomena best. "Some thoughts are central, dominating, 'present' - its the same as speaking loudly. Others are fleeting, brief, distant, or subsumed by general emotion or the mix of other thoughts. Like whispers getting lost in a, well-" A hand gestures to indicate the room around them, and the common phenomena of people yelling 'WHAT?' back and forth at each other while they try to hold conversations too close to a speaker. "That's also without taking training into account," she points out. "We do a lot of that at the school, because telepathy is extremely dangerous in how it can cut through other defenses against an untrained mind. If you're conscious of how you think, you can keep things quiet or put up some defenses, thoughts over thoughts." As for the codenames? That actually causes her to give a minorly frustrated sigh. "Its kind of... I was 'Marvel Girl' when I was a teenager, the last of Xavier's first class of students. Back then, sure, it was a little silly, but I kind of liked it. But it hardly fits me now. And I'm not the Phoenix any more, so it doesn't fit, either."
Wade Wilson	Wade moves to wrap an arm around her waist, dancing at a fairly moderate pace with the upbeat music as he sways from side to side with her. "My thoughts feel pretty loud. I can't always keep them together, but you probably know that. It gets //really// messy if someone shoots me in the head... well, in more ways than one." "You only have to be Jean Grey. Well, you could be Jeanpool, that has a ring to it." He smiles, right as someone is calling someone. And then it becomes apparent that they're saying 'Wade'. "Hey! Wade Wilson! Holy //shit//. Last I heard, you up and fucking croaked." says the midd-eaged blonde man in a yellow leather jacket over a fairly nice button up and a pair of overly expensive blue jeans. This gives Wade pause, and he stops dancing, and then his eyes widen. He leans into Jean, whispering, "Okay, I may have slightly miscalculated. He remembers my //before// face, which means he recognizes me more like //this// than if I kept my face fucked up... That's //Stanley//."
Jean Grey	"They're loud, but they argue, compete with one another a fair bit. That... goes in your favor, as psychic defenses go." The unspoken is probably that, conversely, it's not such a great sign regarding general mental health or stability. "You'd probably benefit from some of the exercises we do." She can't help it but try and 'doctor' a little. "That's pretty clever," she has to admit, with how well that -pool version works. "Though I think I'm comfortable just being myself these days, yeah." But it seems to be show-time! As the guy barges over greeting Wade, Jean switches to a fairly convincing acting turn, dancing a little closer, tossing her head - and hair - side to side as if she's lost in the music and not really too interested in meaningful conversation. << You don't even have to whisper, >> she quickly reminds him. << Anyway, seems like we just have to play along. >> And so she does! When her purported boyfriend stops dancing, she makes a surprised pout, but then brightens in happy surprise as the loud man makes it closer, enough that his shouting can hardly be mistaken. "Ohmygod who's this, baby? Hiya."
Wade Wilson	<< I can't believe we're roleplaying this early in our relationship. >> Wade can't help but make that joke, reaching out to shake the man's hand at Stanley walks over. "Stanley. Stanley Bradshaw. We met back in Canadian Special Forces." Stanley suddenly laughs one of those loud laughs where he definitely doesn't care who he bothers, reaching out to pat Wade on the shoulder. "Wade Wilson, I really can't believe it. This crazy motherfucker almost got captured on a mission once, and broke a guy's arm with his //underwear//. Did I mention he was entirely disarmed, they took his clothes? Jesus Christ, I thought they finally killed you." "Oh, no, I'm here, alive, with my wonderful girlfriend. What are //you// doing here? You're a bit of an old bastard to be in a place like this." he asks Stanley, tilting his head. << I think he's trying to kill some mob boss' adult kid. He's getting a huge bounty for it. >> Stanley laughs again, shrugging. "Oh, you know, I've got a young thing around here. She likes the hot spots like this." << Hey, can you read his mind? Figure out who his target is exactly? >>
Jean Grey	<< I think even you'd be surprised by the pure inventiveness of a telepath >> Jean thinks with a certain humor of her own. << We can live in our own heads, live our fantasies, or share them. So that kind of elaboration, inventing detail, it comes pretty easily. >> Is she thought-bragging? She kind of is. Continuing in her role, Jean hangs off Wade's side, both arms around one of his, and lets her eyes go a bit wider as Stanley speaks of the other man's fearsome reputation. She looks impressed, but also impressed in the sort of clueless way a civillian would be, thinking of brutal military actions like an action movie. "Oh wow! I knew he was a big war hero or something, but he doesn't bother me with all the details, hee." And naturally, when he mentions having his own 'young thing' around, Jean perks up a little, as if it was a role to be proud of. << Isn't that cheating? >> she wonders back at Wade, in case he really wants to go all out with showing off his 'bad merc skillz.' Though, in curiousity (and, perhaps, an exercise in caution) she /does/ try and probe the man's thoughts a little more deeply.
Wade Wilson	<< I'm already impressed, but now you're just putting the handcuffs on. >> Wade tries his best to keep a straight face while talking to Stanley. "You know, that underwear story is a bit of an exaggeration. I only //dislocated// his arm with my underwear." Stanley, when she probes his thoughts, really is here for an assassination. There is no 'pretty young thing'. He's scoping the place out for a particular face. A twenty-something. Someone named Heather. But Stanley is also thinking about Wade, a bit paranoid that he's here on the same mission, to steal his job, or maybe even to kill him. He always heard, contrary to what Stanley said out loud, that Wade Wilson became Deadpool, one of the most well known mercenaries on the planet. But also that he got a fucked up face, always wore a mask. So, now, he's thinking, those stories had to be a bit off, misinformation... "Well, I should get back to my girl." Stanley says as he gives Wade a nod, and starts to sink back into the crowd. << You really make a guy earn his impression, huh? >> Wade asks as he starts to follow the man through the crowd, though is sure to keep some space in between them, clearly knowing how to tail a guy in a club. And then there's a text message, and he looks down at his phone. A photo of a brunette girl, which he shows to Jean. << Okay, chances are, he'll try to poison the girl. Her drink, a needle, whatever. I have a plan. You ever seen Weekend at Bernie's? >>
Jean Grey	"Byeee~" calls Jean, after the departing man. "He seemed nice." He did not, obviously, but she's really putting in for some kind of acting award, here. << It's more that it clearly feels important to -you- to earn your impression, >> Jean also points out, with no small touch of amusement. << Which is very macho and all, but actually not really that necessary. >> And despite the fact that she's teased him about doing it himself, by the time he gets the text, she's ready to quickly confirm things. Mostly, one would assume, because a girl's life is not worth Wade's ego, one way or the other. << That's her, he's definitely here to kill her. No other girl with him. And he knows about Deadpool - he's surprised to see you here, like this. Your insecurity turned out to be tactically valuable, in this case. >> And so they take up pursuit. Jean follows behind Wade, and as they move through the crowd, they have not only his expertise in tailing a target, but the andvantage of the gentle psychic effects she works over the crowd as they pass through it, making them just a touch less memorable, Jean a bit less worth hitting on or Wade a bit less provocative when he pushes some drunk bro out of his way.
Wade Wilson	<< I want to lie and say that the image inducer was purely for the mission, but I kind of like how honest being out with a telepath makes me. >> Wade admits, stopping just before they get to the bar to turn around to her. He holds out a hand and gives her a little baggy of blue powder. << Keep up the ditzy act, talk him up, and then jedi mind trick the guy to slip this into his drink. It'll knock him out, and then we've gotta Weekend at Bernie's him out of here. I'll knock the girl's drink over, in case he already poisoned it. I'm good at fucking things up, so it'll be believable if I do it. >> And so, he does just that, walks over to do his part. Heather's standing up with her drink, and he tries to wait for some good timing with Jean's part in this, before he just bumps directly into Heather and causes her drink to spill all over her. "Oh shit, that dress must be expensive as hell. How much do you need?" He starts pulling out a stack of cash again, flipping through it. It's mostly twenties, good to get the smallest bills possible in the biggest stack possible...
Jean Grey	Jean does her part, catching up with Stanley a bit closer to his target at the bar, but before she's spotted him. "Hey, Stanley right?" Like she would have forgotten it in the last five minutes. There's ditzy and there's /ditzy/. She may have just sacrificed her chances at the Oscar, but then again, her assumption may be that this guy prefers his dialogue more Debbie Does Dallas than Dallas Buyers Club. "So like, what do you do?" she wonders, smiling and batting her eyelashes. There are posture adjustments as well. Maybe it's better she's doing this with her back mostly to Wade, or it might tarnish her whole hot cocoa image. "So yeah, I've only known Wade a little while, and I knew he was a tough guy but wow, killing a guy?" Didn't he correct that? "It's kind of scary, and like, you know how those military dudes can be, a little intense. It's nice to have a guy who's a little more... reliable." Anyway, one can imagine how the dialogue goes. It goes like that for a while... << OK, its done. You can come over. >> What Wade will find is not -exactly- the plan. The guy is asleep. Or in a daze. He's standing up, but very likely propped that way, either through some kind of root mental puppetry or actual telekinesis. << I wasn't sure -what- was in that powder. But you realize, I could put this entire room to sleep, or worse, if I really wanted, right? >> Your daily reminder that even absent alien fire monsters, Omega level brains are skeery. "Hey baby, I think your friend has had a little too much to drink, maybe we should take him to his car..."
Wade Wilson	Stanley smiles at Jean, his attention suddenly taken up by her. He's suddenly thinking that the target can wait, and fuck Wade if he can pick up the ginger. Wade's loss. "Oh, well see, I do a little bit of what we in the business call Black ops." He's a mercenary, he's just making himself sound big, that's clear from his mind. "I keep your country and others safe." He mostly just takes money from whoever is giving money to do something. "Hah, well, you know, I could tell you a million stories about Wade..." << Maybe I wanted to impress you with spy powder. >> Wade retorts, unfortunately losing more of his budget to the girl's dress. He quickly makes his way over to Jean, reaching over to put one of Stanley's arms around his neck. << So, I have a bit of a problem. I was planning to just threaten the guy into not trying to assassinate her again, but... any chance you can work some mind magic on that too? >> he asks as he pushes the door open with his foot to get Stanley out with Jean.
Jean Grey	<< You told me to mind trick him into inbibing the powder. That's already cheating. So I just skipped the powder. Means he won't accidentally end up like an actual Bernie because he has an undiagnosed liver problem, or something. >> And that's Jean Grey, even looking out for the health of captive assassins. At least she's nice enough to let Wade do all the heavy lifting, leaving Stanely's weight slung over the merc's shoulders versus just floating him away with her ridiculous wizardry. Also it probably looks a bit more believable this way. With all of that in mind, it should be no real surprise that she answers in the affirmative regarding meddling with the assassin's brain. << Of course I can, >> she begins to answer. It really sounds like there's a 'but' coming. << But... >> And there you have it. << That's getting into some iffy territory. Psychic surgery can make all kinds of alterations, whether simple changes to memory to... well, far more sweeping, invasive, potentially even damaging ones. I can make him forget, but that's not proof against him finding a reminder somewhere, a text, an email, a post-it note, and picking up the whole thing anew. Or someone contacting him about why the job isn't done. >> Since she doesn't have to carry the guy, she has the luxury of lifting her arms in an uncertain, semi-defeated gesture. << I could put some kind of psychic block to interfere with that whole thought-formation process, but that starts getting disorienting. This is why, in the end, we like to actually be able to turn people over to the authorities. >>
Wade Wilson	<< I was afraid you'd say something like that. Well, I guess we're at the part of my plan that's actually supposed to impress you. >> Wade carries the guy out to the alley where the motorcycle is, resting him against a dumpster after slipping some cuffs on him, behind his back. << You can wake him up now. >> << I'm taking my image inducer off. You want honesty, so you'll get honesty. >> He waits, presumably for Jean to wake him up, and starts talking. "Here's the thing." Reaching down, Wade turns off the image inducer, revealing his scarred face, but still in the same suit and everything. He crouches down to face Stanley, sighing. "You fucked up. I got paid to stop you from assassinating the girl, which I couldn't be open about in a club full of people. For all I knew you might start shooting people, or set off a bomb. But now I can't risk you going after her..." << Full disclosure, I am not going to kill him. >>
Jean Grey	When Wade boasts that this is the point where he's going to impress her? Well, she cocks her head a little, expression smirking and curious. << By all means, go ahead. >> Stepping back, she gives Wade room to work, her presence minimized on the sidelines, although not wholly absent. There's no particular sign to the change that wakes him, the guy simply blinks and looks around, his mild disorientation obvious. Which, in a way, illustrates what she means about the danger in abusing those powers, the necessary for some moral restraint. In the moment, his brain contends with just a few absent moments, a few twisted, misplaced sensory inputs and crossed logical processes. How much more would it take to leave him a vegetable? << Do your magic, Mr. Mercenary. >>
Wade Wilson	"You piece of shit, you really //are// Deadpool! I thought I got some misinformation, that some asshole lied, I don't know..." Stanley is //livid//, struggling where he is on the ground. He's clearly a man with training, but he's also getting a bit old and battered to be in such uncomfortable positions. "I'm not here to argue. I'm trying to do better, you know? No unnecessary deaths and everything. It's pretty hard when people are always trying to kill you." He reaches out to place a hand on Stanley's head, pushing it back so that it's pressed against the dumpster, staring into the man's eyes. "I hired an accountant to audit you. You owe the government millions of dollars in taxes. You'll go to jail for the rest of your remaining life." "//Tax fraud//? You can't shoot me like a man? And you call yourself Canadian." Stanley spits on the ground. "I don't think shooting people is Canada's thing, Stan..." even Wade is confused by that one. "Listen, I want to shoot you as much as the next guy. But there's a girl I kind of //really// wanna date, so I'm trying to do self-improvement. More honest, less double taps, you know, one to the head and one to the chest. Thinking through my takedowns a bit more! I can do personal growth, okay!" "But fucking tax fraud? Come on, just //shoot// me!" Stanley seems to be well aware of how bad his taxes are. Wade just stands, stretching. "The police are already on their way. They have the audits." Looking over in Jean's direction, he thinks, << I may have gotten a little emotionally vulnerable with the assassin. Hope that didn't make it less impressive. >>
Jean Grey	If anyone were to glance in Jean's direction, she definitely does a 'beats me' shrug at the suggestion of gun-happy Canada. That one's definitely a head-scratcher. However, by the end of the assassin-mercenary heart to heart, she does finally speak up, dispelling the earlier role in the process. "It's how they got Capone. If anything, you should be honored by the illustrious criminal company. Might make your career memorable." It's clearly not the voice, let alone subject matter, of the ditzy arm-candy of moments yore. It might be safe to assume that her speaking up triggers some very nasty thoughts from the man, as Jean rolls her eyes at something. But the reaction doesn't bleed over, her thoughts still crisp, professional, and seemingly satisfied with the outcome. << Sounds like you've got it all handled. Do we need to tie him up? - >> She rolles her eyes AGAIN, and this time not at Stanley. What is it with talking about tying people up? << - focus, Wade. We all done here, you think? >>
Wade Wilson	<< I think we're good. >> Wade does, however, zip tie Stanley's feet together, just in case. But the cop sirens can already be heard. "Stanley, if I hear you escaped and assassinated that girl, I might not be so reformed. You got me?" Sometimes one needs to threaten, just for emphasis. And then he stands and heads over to Jean. Stanley is still cursing and spitting, as he's quite pissed. << So uh, I know this wasn't the most traditional date, but... >> He sounds nervous, in his own head, swallowing hard as he hops back on the motorcycle. << Any chance we can do hot cocoa, sweaters, Netflix, and no kids or otherwise nosey adults around? >>
Jean Grey	Once they've dealt with Stanley, Jean seems to put the incident aside pretty well. She has experienced some pretty epic (and horrific) events in her career, so the night out busting a hitman seems not to have proved stressful. If anything, and there is a degree where Jean's own mental state is tangible when she speaks, she's feeling like it's all been a full little vacation outing. Like a date should be, really! That's one for Wade, at least. They reach the bike, and she climbs back on again, leaning in over his back. They could easily talk normally once they're through with the job, although to a certain degree the telepathy is very convenient, and familiar in her case. It's also sort of handy when you're whipping down I-87 and no one brought radios. << We can get some cocoa and -watch- something >> she agrees, a touch teasingly. << I had a good time tonight Wade, but I don't want you getting carried away too quickly, OK? A couple days ago you were telling me you were in love with some kind of alien reality star and an escaped mental patient, >> she reminds him. << So I just want you to keep perspective. And that also means not hearing this and going into some catastrophic spiral, either. OK? >> Serious thinky-voice. << I had fun. >>
Wade Wilson	<< Technically Harley is also a therapist, which at least makes that possible relationship half-healthy. >> Wade suggests, though his mind betrays that he knows it isn't a great argument, it also betrays that he knows he's ill-equipped to argue with Jean's obviously good points. << I know. >> he finally agrees, though there are a few racing thoughts of rejection that he's trying to keep squished down, very poorly. << I used the image inducer because I wanted to feel like a normal guy, on as normal a date as I could imagine while still feeling secure. I love the Suicide Squad, but we really do all work better at friends. I've gotta be a better guy, no making crazy girls crazier, but also I need to make healthier decisions! No taking Adamantium katanas to a falafel restaurant... well at least I won't use them. >>
Jean Grey	<< Well so am I. Except only one of us has a non-suspended licence to practice. >> Touche. Jean probably expects some of that reaction, and she doesn't comment on it or try to counsel him further. It's a point she's made, a point he knows about himself, and at this point, her professional opinion is to leave him to work on it a bit on his own. What she can offer is reinforcement of the very real positives. << I understand why you used it. And if it makes you more comfortable in public, that's perfectly fine. It's not really any different than me putting on a nice dress, if you stop and think about it. We all make concessions like that, to our vanity, our concern for how others perceive us. >> And whether or not he really buys that, she quickly reinforces the point: << But frankly, I don't care. Remember, what I see, all the time- its a LOT more than what's on the outside. >> Then there's a brief... pause, a moment out of time. Psychic reality is weird, because the time scales aren't quite identical, neurons firing at unthinkable speeds. In that moment, there's an image, the two of them sitting on the couch with the TV on, cocoa and everything. Jean looks like she usually does, and Wade... he appears how his own mind conceives of him, as he was, as he is, maybe even as he plans to be. It happens so fast, like a flickering, like one of so many idle thoughts that pop in and out of peoples minds every day without really registering, save that this one lingers a little more strongly. But it's not enough to even trouble his driving, leaving them to continue their journey back to the warmth of the mansion and their waiting hot chocolate.