View source for 506/Did somebody say Yoga

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/05/28
|Location=New York City
|Synopsis=Deadpool comes to visit Natasha at her penthouse, for their agreed upon date.
|Cast of Characters=93, 106
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>It's been a long day. <br><br>Natasha spent the last forty-eight hours in the medical facility being treated for her injuries. She was supposed to be there for the rest of the week. That didn't work so well for her so she checked out, against medical advice. With much complaining and even a few orders from her superior officer, Natasha chose to leave and go home to deal with her injuries. Putting on a spare set of clothes at the Triskelion, she made her way home to her penthouse apartment. Top floor, building with security and a man at the door, More money than should probably be spent on a three bedroom, three bath place but it gives her privacy and rooftop access. It's not her only place but it's tne one she has chosen to use for her recuperation. The thing is the place looks like something in a magazine. All pretty and styled, but no personality. There are no pictures, nothing personal that would give away anything about the person living there. Black leather couches, glass tabletops. Sterile would seem fitting.<br><br>By the time she changed clothes and settled on the couch, her left thigh was throbbing like someone was hitting it with a sledehammer. The yoga pants and tank top are comfortable at least. The bandaging around her leg is pretty obvious through the material but who cares? She's at home alone with no one to witness the fashion faux pas. <br><br>Refusing to take the painkillers provided, she has opted for a glass of vodka, neat, which she cradles in her left hand on the arm of the couch. She leans her head back on the seat, closing her eyes.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> A sound came from the sliding door to the penthouse garden, going rapt, rapt, rapt. There was a man there, wearing a black Tuxedo. It looked good on him. Tuxedos always look good on a man, especially a man with his physique. Though there were two notable exceptions to the way the black suit fit. He wore a white shirt underneath, but coming out of the sleeves were a pair of red and black gloves. Rising out of the collar was a red and black mask with large, white eyes. It was Deadpool. But he had gone all out.<br><br> He had a picnic basket in one of those gloved hands, but it was closed, so there was no telling what was inside. Knowing him, it might have been a bomb, a banana cream pie, or something worse. But he patiently waited at the door, looking his best, or trying to. He seemed to be smiling. When no one came, he unbuttoned his jacket and turned on the teleporter, disappearing from where he stood, and reappearing on the carpet inside. "Hello, Natty, I'm home." He quickly removed his shoes, not wanting to cause her any concern. "I killed the guy you asked me to."<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>That shows just how bad the headache is. She never heard the sounds at the sliding glass door. So when he appears in the room? There is 9mm Glock 26s pointing at his face. Natasha is frowning darkly, finger curled on the trigger. Then she blinks. <br><br>"Deadpool?!" The surprise on her face is real, her acting skills lost for a moment at the unexpected arrival. No, not the arrival. The appearance of said arrival. She takes in the tuxedo, with what appears to be at least parts of his costume. For all she knows, he has the whole costume on under there. Not that she's going checking. <br><br>The Glock disappears back into the hidden compartment on the couch as she gets her expressions back under control, brow slightly furrowed but a hint of a smirk on her lips. "Thank you for your assistance. I'm sure that Director Fury will be glad to hear it. Although, I believe we were supposed to meet at the Triskelion when you completed the task."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> Wade doesn't seem to be disturbed in the slightest by the appearance of the Glock. He just tilts his head so that he can see around the pointed weapon, "Thank goodness. I knew if I kept trying, eventually I'd find your apartment. Mrs. Biddleman was pretty upset when I teleported in on her while she was having a bath with her cats." And before Natasha can try and correct him, he adds, "you heard me right."<br><br> Setting the picnic basket down on the table, he continued, "Oh I know, and we can do that, but when you're well, if you still want to. But think of this as overtime. I heard you weren't feeling so hot, so I brought momma Deadpool's special chicken soup," he withdrew a bowl that was steaming hot. It was wrapped with cellophane, and was his bowl, or Mrs. Biddleman's. It was somebody's homemade soup anyway. "As well as some Blu-Ray's, popcorn, and twister? How'd that get in here?" He set them all on the table. There was also some Brie, pate, crackers, a bottle of wine. He fit a lot into that little basket.<br><br> "I figured, if Natahsa can't come to the date, then gosh darnit, the date would have come to Natasha." He was trying so hard.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>On one hand, that is the scariest thing ever. That Deadpool was popping into random apartments looking for hers. If he was. He may just be saying that. It is Deadpool after all. Or maybe the scariest thing is Mrs. Biddleman's bathing habits. She really hopes he's kidding. She just can't tell.<br><br>On the other hand, that is probably the nicest thing anyone has done for her in--well, ever maybe. That he took the time to try and bring her something to make her feel better. She watches as each item appears out of the Mary Poppins bag style basket, wondering how much more he has hidden in the thing. She soup even smells good. <br><br>On the other hand, he is in her apartment uninvited. She should just shoot him in the head and dump the body outside. He'd recover. Eventually. Then she could depart, leave this safehouse behind and move to another. It's compromised now so she won't be able to use it anymore. Not a tragedy but annoying all the same.<br><br>On the other hand, she did break into his place first.<br><br>On the...wait, that's a whole lot of hands. "I wasn't going to back out of our deal," she says, thinking that must be why he opted for this. It can't be just niceness. Everyone has a angle and everyone does things because they want to get something out of it. She's pretty sure she knows what he is wanting to get but that would be an assumption on her part, not true knowledge. She works off fact, not assumption. What's his angle?<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> "Forget about our deal. Deal's office. I, Deadpool of Cascadia, hereby release you from any and all obligations, contracts, verbal or otherwise. You're free. Say the word, and I'll skedaddle. Keep the soup. Or I'll take it. It's all up to you. I'm just a boy, standing in a safe house, asking a girl to like him." He was really pouring his heart out here, but he was doing it in a comedic voice that made it hard to tell he was being honest with her.<br><br> All he wants out of it is her friendship, at least for now. If more comes of it, score, bonus. If not, that's fine too. He doesn't even ask her if she got his message. You see, he didn't just follow her instructions. He did, to the letter. But he went above and beyond. He took out several of the South American's 'interests', blowing them up all at once. If there had been satellite imaging being recorded, they would have seen 'Hi Natty' spelt out in fire for a brief few seconds. He took the liberty of blowing up a few other bad people to get the 'N', second 't', and 'y' to look just right.<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>She had seen the pictures, left on her desk when she reported to the office that day. And although she will never admit it, she'd laughed. A real laugh. The unicorn, the thing that doesn't exist. She hadn't thought she remembered how but when she'd opened that plain manilla folder to see the satellite shots within? It had been real amusement that bubbled forth. It had taken a little research to realize what he had done and she still didn't have all the details. She had planned to finish looking into it the day she was injured. <br><br>That is why she hasn't thrown him out. That is why she is still listening. He made her laugh.<br><br>His comedic delivery leaves her as in the dark as she already was. She wishes she could see his face. She can only try to read his body language but he is so good at hiding behind the fascade. <br><br>Sounds familiar. She gives her answer. "You only brought enough soup for one?" she asks with a half smile.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> Not just made her laugh, but he did some 'good' while making her laugh. He had crippled more than one South American 'bad guy'. He had done his bit for Queen and Country, or President and Country in this case. He was quite pleased with himself here too, as he had managed to make strong eye contact with her. It was hard for her to tell, but his eyes were focused on those emerald pools of hers.<br><br> He had checked her out when he got there, a quick glance to the chest, and the yoga pants, but he had kept his focus on her. His body language was hard to read, even for an expert. He was quite sensitive about the mask, and the face, but, perhaps he read her pose, but at that moment, he reached into his suit and pressed a button. His 'outfit' was replaced with that of grey sweatpants, which had an 'eagle' footprint on his butt. The side said 'Thunderbirds' in white letters with a yellow and blue outline. Above that, he had a black hoodie, which said 'Property of N.A.R.' in white letters with a red outline, and on the back, there was a Black Widow hourglass symbol in red. Best of all, his skin was visible, and he looked human. He looked like himself. Reaching into his hoodie's pouch, he held up a device, "image inducer. Don't leave home without it."<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>The smile broadens slightly when she gets to see him. She knows that is not the way he likes to be. She knows he feels exposed, literally, when he doesn't have the mask to hide behind. At least, that is what she believes. Her interpratation of him. He hides behind his jokes the same way as the mask. Which is why she finds it more endearing that he is willing to let her see. Although, is the image inducer producing this face or was it the tux? "So this is the real you?" she asks. Then she is getting to her feet, putting her weight on her good leg first. She takes her time with her first steps, heading to the bar on the side of the room. She is walking with a limp but she's trying to hide it, her pride not letting her do otherwise. So the limp is faint. At the bar, she tops off her vodka and pours a second glass for him. She balances the two in one hand. Then she grabs two empty wine glasses, in case they choose to partake of the bottle he brought. Slowly she makes her way back over. "Please sit," she says with a wave of the glasses in the general direction of the couch. "I want to hear adventures in South America. I did get your message while you were there," she adds, that small smile back.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> "Eh, more like the me I used to be, before the cancerous sores took over my body. Without this here doohicky, I'm not a pretty sight to behold, but it's better than being dead... I think. I haven't really tried the alternative, so I can't really say for certain that it does in fact beat being dead. I tried to try it once, but no afterlife would take me. By the way, fun fact. It turns out there is a god and she's really into Skee-Ball." Wait, was he telling the truth, joking, or did he just steal that from a Kevin Smith movie. Or, worst of all, was Kevin Smith right about god?<br><br> Before she or anyone else can dwell on that too much, he's rushing towards her, not picking her up, but there in case she falls. He was ready to act. He didn't say anything. They both knew what she was trying to do, what he was trying to do. It was one of those tender moments between two people in the business. When she makes it back, he'll take a seat as instructed, crossing one leg over the other, and bending his wrists together in a rather effeminate way. "So, it was about 37 degrees, that's Celsius, I don't do Fahrenheit, but being Russian, I bet you can understand that. So, hot enough to melt the hair off a good old Canadian boy, or a pretty Russian girl. The airport smelt funny. I think it's because the security guards only bath once every fortnight. That, or they sweat so much that it smells like they only bathe every fourteen days. Ooh, that reminds me." He reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a Snowglobe. There's a dancing ballerina inside there. Where the hell did he get that in South America? He offers it to her.<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>She knew he was just being considerate, which is just plain weird with Deadpool's reputation, but her pride was a little dinged with him thinking she couldn't walk across a room. Not that he was wrong, she just hates to be not one-hundred percent. To give any impression of weakness. Her independence is one of her greatest strengths. But, he's being nice. And she recognizes it so she swallows her pride as he shadows her across the room. She sits next to him on the couch, a little space between them. At his posture and storytelling, she has to keep the smile from appearing again as she sets the glasses on the table in front of them. <br><br>As he reaches in the basket o' holding again, she leans back and wonders what is going to show up this time. It is the last thing she expected and it brings a flood of memories with it. <br><br>Natasha tenses, every muscle in her body, face going blank as her green eyes seem to harden. Where there was a smile a moment before, there is nothing. Cold. Hard. The Widow has taken Natasha's place in the instant it took to see the ballerina in the snowglobe. "Is this one of your jokes? Because it's in poor taste."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> Deadpool had a reputation for being unpredictable. He was a sometimes hero, sometimes villain. Usually, it all depended on his mood and who was willing to pay. But no matter what role he was serving, he always came across as a decent guy. He wasn't a bad guy per say, just with questionable morals. In fact, at times when he was fighting heroes, he'd abandon the fight the minute he was off the clock. He was what you'd call an anti-villain or a punch clock villain. He had heroic traits, but it was a job.<br><br> Deadpool takes one of the glasses, and pops the cork on the wine. It was already chilled. In fact, there was some condensation on the glass from the bucket it had been sitting in. He pours both glasses, and then hands one to her, or was about to when she tensed. "Joke? What joke?" He looked at her. He could tell he had upset her. But he didn't know why. He tilted his head, regarding her. He then turned off his image inducer, and he appeared back in the Tuxedo and the mask, gloves. He removed his mask, holding it in his hands, showing his face, "I can tell I've done something to upset you. But Tasha, I really don't know what it is." Taking off his mask, showing his face. It was the only thing he could think of to convey that there was no joke, no humour. He was quiet... Deadpool was quiet?<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>In that moment, when he shows the real him, she knows it isn't a joke. He doesn't know. He honestly thought it was something she would like without realizing why it would be a trigger for her. The ballerina, the history that was all scripted for her life. Wade wouldn't know those things. And now...<br><br>Now she has taken what may have been a nice evening and endangered it with her knee jerk reaction. She drops her gaze to her lap, toying with the material atop the bandaged thigh. It takes long silent moments, something unheard of with Deadpool, before she makes a decision. Taking a deep breath, she looks at his face. The face he seems to hate so much. With the image inducer, she knows what the man once looked like and he was quite handsome? Now, the disease has done its damage but that doesn't really matter. It is the person within, something she learned long ago. <br><br>"When I was a young woman in Russia, training to ...be what I am, I was a ballerina." She lets that sink in, carefully choosing how much to share. "I was manipulated to be put on the path to the Red Room and to become the Black Widow. That," she nods to the snowglobe. "Reminded me of the past." She reaches out a hand to take the snowglobe, looking at the artistry of the ballerina within. Then she reaches over a hand to try and touch your arm, a physical contact that is unusual for her to offer to anyone. "I'm sorry for my reaction."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> There was clothing between them. He still wore the Tuxedo. That was real. But in touching his arm, she could feel he wasn't wearing his costume underneath it. Just the gloves, mask, and probably a dickey to cover his neck. He did go all out with his costumes. He had an account with Potter's Costume Shop, as well as Ethan's Costume Shop, and Party Town. He was a regular at all three.<br><br> The touch, it really affects him, even if she couldn't feel his skin or anything. And he really wants to put the mask back on, but something tells him not to. He remains quiet, letting the moment sink it. His left leg begins to twitch nervously. He couldn't hide his emotions with the mask off. He looked at her, at the floor. He was an open book. He liked her. He wanted her to like him. He was convinced she could never like him with the way his face was. He was hurt about the gift backfiring on him. And yes, he also took a quick glance at both her chest and pelvis. He was still a guy. Usually the mask hid such things, but he was so exposed now.<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>The hand remains on his arm of the not-quite-an-Armani tuxedo. Not that it matters. Now, without the mask, Natasha can read him easily. The pain that he carries. The fears of rejection because he cannot believe anyone would want him looking as he does. The hurt she caused by her reaction to his gift although she hopes he understands at least a little of why with her explanation. It isn't everything. No, that no one knows really. She doesn't plan to share it either. There is only so much she is ever willing to expose, especially when such things make her vulnerable. Give people ways to hurt her. He's already been given more than many people and she just hopes it doesn't come back on her in the future.<br><br>"Wade, it is a beautiful gift," she says sincerely. It's not an act on her part either. For the moment, they both have their masks off.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> Wade feels the need to change the subject, and alcohol usually solves most problems. It also causes many others, "so, how about that wine? It's from the Okanagan, near Starling." British Columbia produces some terrific wines, most especially from the Okanagan and Fraser Valleys.<br><br> He still has his mask in one hand, but, looking at her, he decides to set it on the table. It was an important step for him. He was leaving his mask off. "So, uh... what do you think?" He asks, his question is obvious. The man is so nervous right now. You could cut the tension with one of his katanas. Not that he had them on him right now. Going back on the tried and tested, he offers a joke, "so, are there any other gifts I should steer clear of, unless I feel in the mood to see the business end of that Glock again?"<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>She goes with the change, not pushing the issue. It would be useless really. He's not going to be opening up any more than she is. Ain't we a pair, raggedy man. Natasha accepts her glass of wine. She takes a careful sip and nods, "It's very good. Not vodka, which is obviously my drink of choice, but it is a good vintage." She watches him closely. When the mask goes on the table, she wants to smile but keeps her expression blank. Wait? Why? Why is she keeping it blank? He laid his mask down, not putting it back on. She should give the respect of doing the same. So the faint smile appears, as she flicks her eyes to her glass.<br><br>At his question, she looks directly into his eyes. Then slowly, she looks over his face, over the ravages the disease has caused. It doesn't look quite the same as the last time she saw him, as though it changes. Which would make sense. As the cancer grows and heals thanks to his regenerative powers. She addresses his second question first. "Avoid ballerinas, anything related to World War II--unless it's a weapon," she adds. "And don't ever ask about my ex husband." Then she sets her glass down and turns toward him, tucking her uninjured leg up under her so she can face him more fully. "As for what I think? I think you sell yourself short. I think you are too busy judging yourself on things that don't matter and not spending enough time on the ones that do."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> Wade takes a sip of the wine. He's not really a wine drinker, but it's the grown up thing to do. Frankly, he'd be better off with some Soder-Cola Classic, or even Chocolate Milk. But you can't woo someone with Chocolate Milk. He takes note the subjects that are off limits. He's dying to ask about her ex-husband when that prospect is brought up. Instead, he decided to think about how much he envied the guy, to be married to Natasha, to wake up next to her, every day. To be in her world. He was lucky, whether it lasted a day or ten years.<br><br> He moved his lips, keeping them together, but wiggled left, and right, as he thought about how to say it. "I know what I look like. I know what I used to look like. Not unlike what you saw when the image inducer was going. And I know that I'm vain enough that I doubt I'd be able to love someone who looked like me. So what hope do I have if even I can't stand the sight of me. "It's not always this bad. It... I have cancer in my liver, lungs, prostate, and brain, all things I can live without. My, healing factor," he does the air quotes as he says 'healing factor', "keeps me alive, but it's constantly battling to keep the cancer at bay and it seems to really go after my skin." He beat himself up so much.<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>"So?" Natasha returns simply. She shakes her head. "You are judging yourself on physical. That's such a small part of things. I've learned that after being alive for so long." At least Cap got to sleep through decades. Her? She was alive for every minute of it. She's seen good looking people who are the ugliest on the inside. And now she is seeing one who thinks himself ugly and perhaps, when it's one of his worst days, he is outwardly. But inside? <br><br>That has Natasha's attention.<br><br>"So if we were to spend time and fell in love." Her voice is musing, just a hypothetical question. "And suddenly I ended up with cancer. I went through treatment. Lost my hair, weight and looks due to the disease. Perhaps even effect my skin like yours does to yours. Then your vanity would come into play and I would be left to deal on my own because you couldn't stand my appearance? Or would it be the person inside that mattered?" She takes a sip of her wine, looking at him over the rim as she does so.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br>Wade thought about her words. He honestly felt his vanity would get in the way. He didn't like it that way. But, what he thought, and what would happen, might not be the same thing. "If," and he felt weird playing this out, "but if we spend time together, and fell in love, and you got cancer, and you lost whatever it is that keeps you looking like a 20-something, and you looked like me, we'd still be in love, and I would move heaven and earth to find a cure for you, not the kind I got, but you know, the good kind. Like, I don't know science stuff, but a blood transfusion, from Wolverine. He has a healing factor, and he doesn't have cancer. Sure, you might come out hairy, but I could learn to love it. I might cough up a few hairballs along the way, but I'd give it a go if you would."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>She was going to address his points, try to help him see beyond his perceptions, to allow him to see past the disease. But as he continues, as he mentions hairballs? <br><br>Natasha laughs.<br><br>It catches her off guard, just like that picture in the manilla folder. It's a light sound, so at odds with her persona that everyone sees. She may chuckle once in a while, a husky sound, but this? Pure delight, her entire face lighting up, green eyes sparkling with her amusement. She shakes her head at the silliness. "Hairballs? Seriously? Are you flashing back to Mrs. Biddleman's bath?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> Raising his hands, well, gloved hands, and he, feeling safer with her, removes them so he can raise them, exposing his palms, and showing that he has nothing up his sleeves. "Hey now, I'm just trying to steer the conversation to a point where you might think about what it might be like to engage in sexual intercourse with me. You gotta forgive me. The last time I had sex, the hairpiece was still President." Was he being serious, or was this another joke? It was so hard to tell with him.<br><br> "Mr. Biddleman did offer, but she wanted to use a harness, her strap on, and involve the cats. I was on board with the first two, but I draw the line at cats." Again, it was so hard to tell if he was being serious, or more joking. But he was warming up to her, showing off his hands, his face, and he did look good in that Tuxedo.<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>Although she manages to stop laughing, the amusement is still there. Natasha isn't even trying to hide it now. The cat (pun not intended) is out of the bag. "Well, I don't own any cats but the other two could be arranged I'm sure. If you don't already have the goodies needed in that basket of yours." She flicks her gaze to the basket holding a million other things then back to his face. He does look good in that tux. And he is selling himself so short. No, his skin isn't perfection but that body? That is the stuff of legends. She has to wonder if that six pack is drawn on or real under there.<br><br>"You're assuming that I haven't thought about sex with you." She lets that hang in the air.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br>"You don't? I thought all old women who lived alone had some cats." He was joking about her age, but he said it in a playful tone. He did blush at her giving it right back to him. Was he joking, was she, or were they both serious? It was nearly impossible to tell. But she gave as good as she got. The real kicker was when she suggested she might have thought about him that way. His heart skipped a beat. There was a bead of sweat on his forehead. His cheeks took on a lovely red hue, not as bright as his costume, but pretty bright. "And we all know what happens when you assume." And if she were 'lucky' enough to see, she'd find his physique was definitely more of the Zac Efron mould than Seth Rogen.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>When she sees that blush, Natasha's smile reappears. She had never expected to see Wade blushing. It so at oddds with his personality. Or the personality he portrays. There is a lot more to learn about him. "And none of us want to be asses," she replies to his remark. She picks up the glass of vodka this time, going back to her old standard. <br><br>"Thank you for coming over. For trying to take care of me." While she's injured, although she doesn't say the words. Instead, she touches her leg but doesn't pat it, the pain bad enough without exacerbating it but patting on it. "It was unexpected. But welcome." Then she does something she probably shouldn't. She leans forward and tries to kiss him on the cheek. A sweet gesture meant as a thank-you.<br><br>Then she will try to rush past the moment. "So, maybe you should put on a movie?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br> "Hey, speak for yourself on that one, Natasha. I happen to make a good living by being an ass." He may have opened up to her, but he was still Wade Wilson. He was glad to have come, glad to have helped put her mind off of her injuries, and glad to have gotten to know her better. The kiss... well, that shocked the hell out of him, especially when he turned his head at the last moment, quite unintentionally. He was curious what she was doing, and when she ended up kissing him, it was electric. He even shivered with delight.<br><br> Glad as she was to rush past that moment, Wade gets up... it's a little more complicated than it would have been, seconds ago, but he manages to fish into his picnic basket for a Blu-Ray. He'll head over to the entertainment centre, humming some tune as he does. Oh god, he was humming the DuckTales theme song. Now that was going to be stuck in her head for the rest of the night.<br><br> But no, it wasn't DuckTales he put on. Instead, it was what seemed to be a thriller called Shattered Illusions. It was about a Russian spy, living in Canada, who fell in love with a Canadian girl two years into his mission. He fell so hard that he turned himself into the RCMP, becoming a double agent. Turns out, it's a bit of an erotic thriller. But a good movie, the kind Netflix or HBO might make. During the movie, Wade sits close by Natasha, munching on the popcorn he brought, and shares some with her.<br> <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:93|Natasha Romanova (93)}} has posed:'''<br>That song will definitely be stuck in her brain, et least until he gets the movie going. Then she is able to focus on the story. It's not a movie she has seen but she does have a few moments where she is complaining about the lack of skills by the supposed spy. There's some mockery of the use of weapons by the actors. But other than that? She seems to be having a good time with some discussion and banter. It's comfortable, amusing and so different from anything she's done in longer than she can remember. He's just fun to be around. Fun is not a word that is usually part of her world. <br><br>By the time the first movie is over, she's completely at ease. Well, as at ease as she ever is. Probably the same for him. They aren't in lines of work to allow for utter relaxation really but it's about as close as she ever gets. About a quarter of the way through the next movie, Natasha has shifted on the couch. She's leaned against his shoulder, resting her head there. Hopefully he already has his jacket off by that point so it's more comfortable. The strength isn't missed either and she rests her hand lightly against his chest ribs as she uses him for a pillow. The halfway point of the movie? She's actually dozed off.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:106|Deadpool (106)}} has posed:'''<br>Wade Wilson is for all intents and purposes, immortal. But that doesn't mean he can't be hurt. He has known nothing but pain, especially over the last few years. But he was comfortable with her. At some point, he did take off his jacket, and rested it over her, draping her as if it were a blanket. She was poorly and she needed to stay warm, or so he thought. She didn't seem to object too much, and when, during the second film, she dozes off. He reaches for the remote, turning the sound down. He continues to watch the rest of it, but he places a hand over her, careful not to touch her bare skin. He rests it over his jacket, which covers her. And he will remain like that, sitting up, watching over her, right up until when the birds began to chirp and the sun poured in through the still locked door to the penthouse garden.<br> <br>
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