16609/Red and White and Lace All Over

Red and White and Lace All Over
Date of Scene:	09 November 2024
Location:	Club Lacey's, Red Hook
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Emma Frost

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Deadpool has posed:
Wade Wilson sat in the back booth of Club Lacey's, a dark corner where shadows clung to the edges, offering him some semblance of anonymity. The dim lighting caught the angles of his face just enough for him to feel the heat of it, a constant reminder of what lay beneath the baseball cap he wore low on his head. His skin, a patchwork of raw, scarred tissue and fading scars from all the years of bad decisions, was on full display. Cancer-riddled, pockmarked, and ever so ugly, even in a place where he was practically invisible by design.

A half-empty bottle of beer sat on the table in front of him, resting on a coaster. The condensation from the bottle mixed with the pretzels in the bowl beside it, creating a faintly salty scent that he found somewhat comforting... if only because it reminded him of a time when he wasn't the one being ignored. It wasn't much of a feast, but it was a distraction from the uncomfortable buzz in his chest.

Wade had a way of blending into places like this, whether he wanted to or not. The loud music, the rhythmic sway of women on stage, the clink of glasses, and the low murmurs of conversations... the noise was enough to drown out his own thoughts. At least it would have been, if he hadn't been so preoccupied with himself. He glanced at the stage briefly, but quickly shifted his gaze to the floor, his fingers tracing the lip of the bottle.

He hadn't come here for anything special. No, tonight was just about being in a place where no one cared enough to stare at him. A high-class joint, where the girls were paid to perform and the men were too drunk to see much else. He wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that the patrons probably couldn't care less about his appearance, or the fact that it bothered him more than he was willing to admit.

A tall figure loomed in his peripheral vision... a muscle-bound, leather-jacketed security guard making his rounds, his eyes scanning the room with the practiced indifference of a man who had seen too many unruly drunks, and too many desperate souls pass through. The man's gaze flickered past Wade without even a second glance. And that? Well, it was both a blessing and a curse.

He glanced at the small clock on the wall above the bar. It was nearing midnight. The club was at its peak, the rich red glow of the lights giving everything an almost dreamlike quality... an illusion, if you would, that had nothing to do with reality. He took another swig from his beer, feeling the coldness slide down his throat, but it did little to soothe the ache in his chest.

He wasn't used to feeling this... human.

"Hey, are you all right?" The voice was smooth and low, cutting through his thoughts like a knife. Wade looked up to see a woman standing at the edge of his booth, leaning in just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her soft, curvy figure beneath the glittery outfit she wore. She had that look, the one that came with knowing how to read people.

Emma Frost has posed:
     Emma Frost?s heels clicked against the polished floor of Club Lacey?s as she strode through the ambient shadows, her movements as smooth and calculated as ever. She paused by Wade?s booth, taking him in for a moment with an expression caught somewhere between mild exasperation and amusement. She wore a fitted, white dress that shimmered under the dim lights, exuding her usual air of icy confidence, which seemed somehow even more pronounced amidst the warm, pulsing red lights of the club.

     " well, isn?t this a quaint little corner for the Merc with a Mouth," she murmured, voice dripping with dry elegance as she looked down at him, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow she was ingoring the naked girl trying to talk to him. Her gaze flickered to the half-empty beer bottle, the pretzels, and the barely visible edge of his scars beneath the brim of his cap. "Tell me, Wade, do you always find yourself brooding like an overgrown teenager in a place like this? Or is tonight a special occasion?"

     She let her words hang in the air, her voice cool and layered with intrigue. Emma wasn?t one to mince words, and this was no exception. But behind her polished demeanor, there was something else, an almost imperceptible softness in the way she took in the details, the parts of him he couldn?t hide even in the shadows.

     " Because if you came here looking for sympathy, I can assure you, darling, you?re not going to find it." Her lips curved into a small, wry smile. " But maybe, just maybe, a few blunt truths and a little distraction would do the trick." She tilted her head, looking at him with that enigmatic stare, as though daring him to rise to her words.

     For a moment, it was as if the room?s noise faded, the rhythmic clinks and murmurs falling into the background.
    

Deadpool has posed:
Wade stared up at Emma Frost, his gaze flicking between her face and the empty booth around him. The words came as easily as breathing, but he paused before speaking. Something about her, maybe it was the cool confidence or the way she seemed to see right through him, gave him a moment's hesitation. But then, well, that was Emma Frost for you. You didn't get to be her level of icy without learning to read people like textbooks, cover to cover.

"Ah, well, look who decided to grace my lonely little corner," he said, his voice smooth, but tinged with an edge of sarcasm. He took another swig from his beer, making a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I figured it was just a matter of time before you showed up, Frosty. You can practically smell the desperation in the air, can't you?" He leaned back, tossing a glance over at the crowd, then back to her. "I mean, it's not exactly high society here, but you seem to be fitting in just fine."

He paused, letting the silence hang just a moment longer. It wasn't often someone called him out so directly on his? well, whatever it was he was doing here tonight. What was he doing here, exactly? The beer wasn't going to fix it, and the pretzels sure as hell weren't going to change anything. Maybe he was just here to be ignored.

Wade clicked his tongue, adopting a mock-serious tone. "Brooding? Me? Nah, sweetheart, brooding's for the angsty teen in the corner who's been listening to too much Death Cab for Cutie. I'm just... reflecting. You know, life choices, that sort of thing. I mean, who wouldn't be? When life gives you tumors, it's like, 'Hey, buddy, enjoy the ride!'"

Emma Frost has posed:
     Emma?s eyes glinted with a subtle, knowing amusement as she regarded Wade, her arms crossed casually but with an unmistakable air of authority. She listened, letting his sarcasm roll over her like water off ice. A small smirk curved at the corner of her lips, one of those effortlessly composed expressions that made it clear she?d seen, and dismissed, far better deflections than his.

     " Oh, please, Wade," she replied, her tone velvet-smooth, laced with a touch of playful condescension. " The only thing more obvious than the sarcasm is the irony of you sitting here in self-reflection. But, I suppose that's progress for you."

     She tilted her head, casting a quick, appraising glance over him, her gaze lingering just long enough to remind him that she saw more than he probably wanted her to. " But if you must ?reflect,? you might consider doing it in a setting that doesn?t smell like stale pretzels and spilled beer," she added, her voice like a blade hidden in silk. " It?s so... tragically predictable for someone who claims to be above brooding."

     Emma paused, allowing her words to land with the weight of someone who knew precisely how to drive her point home. She softened slightly, though her eyes still held that unnervingly perceptive edge. " You?re not fooling anyone, Wade, not even yourself. You think that your humor keeps people from looking too closely, but here you are, aching for someone to see past it."

     She leaned forward, lowering her voice just a notch. " You?re right. Life doesn?t always deal a fair hand. But if you?re so dead-set on wasting it here... well, that?s your choice. Just don?t pretend it?s anything nobler than that."
    

Deadpool has posed:
Wade let out a quiet huff, tapping his bottle against the edge of the table. Emma's words cut through the air like a scalpel, sharp, precise, and with that all-too-familiar knack for peeling back the layers. It was impressive, in a way. She'd been at this game far longer than he had, and she'd perfected the art of reading people like the pages of a well-worn novel. But, for all her insight, she missed the point, didn't she?

He glanced down at his beer, swirling the golden liquid around. "So, I'm predictable, huh?" he muttered to himself, more amused than offended. He wasn't sure whether to give her credit or pity her for thinking she was the first to crack his surface. It was like a broken record at this point. People always thought they had him figured out. The jokes. The constant quips. The inability to let anyone close. But what did she know about actually being stuck in your own head, 24/7, like some clown whose punchline was always just out of reach?

He shifted in his seat, leaning back as his eyes flicked up to meet hers. "Yeah, sure, Emma," he continued, his voice still light, even as his chest felt a little heavier. "It's all about me, right? Just a guy with too many jokes and too many scars to count. No one's ever asked themselves, 'What's really going on with that guy?' Right?" The sarcasm was on full blast now, but there was that flicker, maybe a tiny one, but still visible, of something more sincere. Emma had cracked open a door, and Wade wasn't sure if he was ready to shut it or step through it.

He took another sip of beer, this time slower, letting the coolness settle in his throat. "You're right, though, I do love to perform. I'm like the clown at the circus, making sure nobody notices the guy in the corner holding a little too tight to his mask." Wade's grin was all teeth, and there was something almost sad behind it. "But you know, if you really want to see me, you're gonna have to wait for the show to end. Spoiler alert: it doesn't always have a happy ending."

And there it was again. That feeling: The part of him that had been numb for so long, always pushing, always fighting, but still aching somewhere deep. He wasn't sure if Emma was right, maybe it was a cop-out, this routine of being the guy who never took anything seriously. But the alternative? To let someone in again? That was a scarier thought than anything he'd ever faced in his life.

He stared at his reflection in the beer bottle, half expecting to see the guy Emma saw, the one who wore his armor like it was second skin. But all he saw was the same face he always had: the man who couldn't let go. Maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn't fooling anyone. But damn it, he wasn't sure he knew any other way.

Emma Frost has posed:
     mma let his words hang in the air, the raw honesty beneath the sarcasm not lost on her. Wade was hardly the first wounded soul she?d ever met, but he was perhaps one of the few who tried so desperately to mask his pain with humor. It was both frustrating and strangely endearing. She considered him for a long moment, her gaze unreadable, then leaned in closer, her voice dipping into a lower, almost teasing tone.

     " Oh, Wade," she began, with that subtle, razor-sharp smile. " You?re a man of many masks, but here?s the thing about masks, they?re only effective when you can convince people they?re real. She arched a brow, studying him with the intensity of someone dissecting a puzzle. " And I don?t buy it, not all of it, anyway. You?re more than just a punchline or a costume, and you know it. You?re desperate for someone to see past all of that. Which is, almost endearing."

     She paused, letting her words settle, then smirked, adding with a flash of playfulness, " Now, as for that happy ending, Who?s to say I couldn?t add a little twist?" Her voice turned almost sultry as she leaned back in her chair, looking at him with a cool, confident gaze. "I mean, a guy like you, one who hides so well, what would he even do if I offered him something he didn?t have to laugh away?"

     Her eyes glinted, daring him to react. "But if you?re too busy clinging to your circus act, well... let?s just say, you?ll miss out on quite the show."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade snorted at her words, but it wasn't the usual playful laugh, this one had a little more weight to it. "Oh, so now I'm desperate?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "How charming. You're really digging deep tonight, huh, Frosty?" His grin was wide, but there was something else in his eyes. Something that flickered for just a second before he smothered it under his usual snark. "Guess I better be careful," he added with a wink. "You're starting to sound like you actually get me."

He leaned back in the booth, his hands still wrapped around the beer bottle like it was his lifeline. Emma's words hung in the air, teasing at something just out of reach. It wasn't new, people calling him out on his act. Hell, he'd been playing this game for so long that the lines were practically muscle memory at this point. But there was something about her, the way she cut through all the layers, like she didn't even need to try. It pissed him off a little, and scared him even more.

"Sure, sure, I'm all about the masks," he continued, his voice lighter now, as if to push the weight of the conversation away. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm practically a walking, talking Halloween costume." He took a long drink, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the condensation on his bottle. "It's a good thing, though, right? Keeps people at arm's length. Makes it easier for everyone to think I'm some joke, something to laugh at. Never any pressure to actually let anyone in." His voice dropped slightly, but he covered it with another smirk. "Not that you care, of course. You've probably got a million other people to do that whole 'soul searching' thing with."

Her teasing voice made his heart do a little lurch, and for a brief second, he almost regretted opening the door to this. What the hell was she playing at, anyway? This was Emma Frost, for god's sake, sharp as a tack and cold as ice. She didn't give a damn about him. This was just another game, one where she kept score and he was never going to win. "A twist?" he echoed, the words tasting a little bitter. "You mean like the one where you show me the secret, terrifying version of myself that even I've been too afraid to meet?"

He shifted in his seat, making a show of getting comfortable again. "I mean, come on, Emma," he said, voice pitched with playful exaggeration. "I've heard that line before. You offer something real, I laugh it off like it's some bad stand-up routine. And you walk away thinking, 'Well, that was cute, but I'll try my next target.'" He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he flashed her a grin that was just a little too sharp. "But if you're offering a different show tonight, I guess I'll be here with popcorn, waiting to see if you can keep up with my routine."

The joke didn't quite land the way it should have, though. For a moment, he didn't feel like the performer, he felt like the audience, desperately hoping for someone to pull back the curtain and show him something real.

Emma Frost has posed:
     Emma let out a quiet chuckle, her lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. ?Desperate? No,? she replied, crossing her arms and leaning forward, her gaze as sharp as glass. ?I think you?ve simply forgotten there?s more to this act than the laugh track. And maybe,? she said, her voice barely above a murmur but cutting through the din of the bar, ?that?s because you?re too busy being the showman to notice anyone actually watching.?

5t She paused, letting the weight of her words hang between them, her eyes never leaving his. ?See, Wade, the irony here is that you wear this mask, play the clown, as if it?s armor, but it?s paper-thin. All I have to do is look a little closer, and I see through every joke, every deflection.? Her gaze softened for just a second, almost imperceptible but there. ?If I thought you were just a joke, trust me, I wouldn?t bother.?

     She leaned back, her posture relaxed, but there was a distinct intensity about her, as if she was peeling away each layer of him, unraveling him with every word. ?And you?re right?I do see the version of you that even you?re afraid to look at. That?s why you keep everyone at a distance, isn?t it?? Her smirk returned, but it was tinged with something almost empathetic, though she?d never admit it. ?Because, deep down, you think they?d run the moment they saw it, that version of you with no punchline to hide behind.?

     Emma?s eyes glinted with a playful spark as she finally leaned closer, her voice dropping to a barely audible whisper. ?But here?s the real twist, Wade: you?re not the only one with a show. And if you?re still willing to play, maybe I?ll let you peek behind my curtain.? She leaned back, tilting her head with an expectant smile, as though daring him to step out of his routine and meet her, for once, on level ground.