5730/Deadpool Won The Bet

Deadpool Won The Bet
Date of Scene:	06 November 2018
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Deadpool asks Natasha for help after ending up with a crowbar stuck in his head.
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Black Widow (Romanoff)

---

Deadpool has posed:
    "DID you know... that banging your head against a wall for one hour burns one hundred and fifty calories?" Deadpool's voice inquires out of nowhere. "You could stay slim just from that. If the math works out. And not eating." The appearance of him in Natasha's apartment's kitchen is as sudden as his teleporter can do it; the thing that pulled him through space (and maybe time? Okay just space) to appear. He moves to sit on the floor cross-legged, entirely disoriented, and plays with the cabinet door directly to his left, swinging it open and closed. The rush of the scent of metallic blood and rust floods his vicinity. He has a crowbar imbedded in his head, going through most of one side of it and jutting out the ear on that side, skull fragments littering his shoulder like a giant titan's dandruff.

    "We had a good thing going," continues the extremely out of it mercenary. "I had changed my house. It had colored curtains. Instead of Spider-man ones. Or that was the sheets. Both? Let's say both."

    Deadpool otherwise looks a lot like he usually does in his leather attire, swords at his back, guns ripe with being recently fired but put away. He has a few spots on his costume where he was clearly shot but those are healed.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    In the living room, Natasha's head turns toward the kitchen as her hand disappears beneath the cushions. Then she recognizes the voice. She stands, bringing the hidden Glock with her more out of habit than out of necessity. She isn't concerned about Wade. But who might be with Wade?
    Entering the kitchen, she frowns as she sees the state of his being. "Wade! What happened?" The gun is slipped into the back of her jeans as she rushes over to the sitting figure. She drops to one knee next to him, green eyes focused on that crowbar at first then to the eyes of his mask.
    "Yeah, we had a good thing," she says to keep him focused. "You changed a lot but now you can change it back. Spider-Man. Wonder Woman. Whatever sheets you like."
    She moves to the cabinet under the sink where she keeps a first aid kit. Funny, back shortly after they first met, he had done the same for her, getting that kit and helping her in this very kitchen.
    "Wade? We need to get that thing out of your head. And it's going to hurt. A lot. Here or bathroom?" she asks, doubting he could walk if he wanted to but offering the possibility.

Deadpool has posed:
    "My sheet reads really confusingly. I haven't read all of it. I think nobody has?" A pause. "OH MY SHEETS. Fuck the sheets. Sleep on the couch. You know, there's a lot of Déjà vu in here. Like a scented candle of déjà vu. Do you smell it?" Wade asks, upbeat, and starting to stand up during the time she was after the first aid kit. He bends to look into the cabinet next to her. Helping.

    "I can walk. I just can't feel my left leg. But that's not unusual. ~It's not unusual, to be loved, by anyone,~" Deadpool most definitely has a crowbar in his head, but he's coping in his way. "Take my arm, let us go. We can take the shower afterwards though. Keep things in priority order," prattles the merc. "It's not fun if you can't feel it."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    Once she has the first aid kit, she glances over her shoulder at his hovering form. He's helping. He's also dripping on the floor. No help for it. She didn't have carpet in her house for a very good reason.
    "C'mon," Natasha says as she takes his arm. Then she carefully starts leading him toward the bathroom. They leave a slight trail of crimson, and perhaps a few pieces that fall off his shoulder, as they walk.
    The bathroom is oversized. There is a shower with four heads which takes up a large corner. Then there is a claw foot, old style tub in another corner. She heads for the shower, opening the door and helping to lead him inside. "Sit. How would you like to do this? Like a bandaid?" she asks motioning with a hand to the crowbar.

Deadpool has posed:
    "I'm good. No, wait. I'm not. I'll sit," Deadpool began, and adjusted quickly. He sits down in the shower, feet braced far apart on the wall and fidgets, tapping fingers against his leather-covered thighs. Then he gets a good look in the mirror across the way, and reacts. "OH. That looks uncomfortable. I understand the neck strain now. I have not built up my neck muscles to wield crowbars without mild fatigue, even some that's constantly healing."

    Does he have a preference about how to remove it? "I feel like it would be better to do short tugs, because I don't want the whole thing to come out stuck on the stick and then we have worse problems. We'd have some kind of terribly unrealistic fatality that would involve you having a brain in a jar for a while. I have THINGS to do, so a jar-brain is out."

    He turns his head up and towards her, which BONKS the end of the crowbar on the wall. "But between us, you're the one without a metal thing in his head. What do YOU think?"

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    She doesn't answer that she thinks it's insane he is able to talk. Natasha is familiar with his healing factor but seeing it in action at times is awe-inspiring. She does give him a tight smile. "No brain in a jar. I promise."
    She puts the first aid kit just ouside the door. Then her weapon follows, laid on the black and white tiles next to the kit. She steps out to the linen closet in the bedroom, grabbing a huge armful of white towels. Not the best color for dealing with blood but it bleaches more easily.
    She returns to the shower and pulls the door closed. As for her? She's dealt with worse. Only, they weren't conscious. Or talking.
    "Wade, talk to me about what happened?" she asks as she starts to examine how the crowbar is wedged, making a plan of action. She begins removing his belts and weapons, planning to set them outside as well since this is going to get messy. Really, really messy.

Deadpool has posed:
    "I feel like that could be phrased sexier for the part where you're undressing me," Wade parries back. He won't let her have all the guns, he keeps one with an overly theatrical whimper ? before giving it up. "Later, lovely," he tells the gun. And then seems to forget entirely about it. He may be doing a good impression of lucid but things are not consistent. "One of us smells like licorice. I'm thinking you."

    "I don't think my face is going to come off right now so just call it a lost cause. You know. Like always," Wade says, referencing his mask as his face. He makes a Nicolas Cage 'face off' gesture of his hand away from his face. He does it about eight times. Which means she has plenty of time to disarm him of gear.

    "Did you ask what happened? Even if you didn't I'm going to fill you in. I was doing a thing. And I won a bet. I think it had to do with an icepick in the eye but I did one better. But I think I teleported before I won the cash."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    Weapons belts aside, sword. The rest of the costume, she can't really help. The gun he seems fondest of is set next to her own outside the door. It will be handed back first.
    Natasha kneels next to him. "Sit still a minute. As still as you can at least." She's not sure if this is nervous energy or the metal bar is wedged into a nerve path and thus sending weird signals.
    "You need to go get your money when you are better. I'll even help if you like. You certainly earned it," she adds in a low voice as she puts her hand on the crowbar.
    "On the count of three. One...Two..."
    With that, she gives the first yank since she isn't super strong and it will take a few to do this. Did she wait for three? Of course not.

Deadpool has posed:
    "AHHHHH my memories," Deadpool cries, as she yanks. He lurches with the pull motion, towards her. "Right in the childhood. Okay. Here. I'm going to brace or something. Because I'm going to end up in your arms. Which would make things awkward. Awkward-er. Here. Okay." He changes position to press more firmly against the corner of the shower, his musculature flexing with the effort to not get yanked along with the crowbar.

    "On one. No warning. Do it. But gently. I am not well lubed," Deadpool requests, with false virginal nervousness.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    Once he is braced, Natasha takes a deep breath. This has to be done. She knows he'll recover. Yet, she hates being the one to cause him harm in this way. Though, in causing the harm, it will allow his abilities to heal the injuries.
    "Since when has that ever stopped you?" comes the smart comment from Natasha, intending for his thoughts to focus (as much as they can) on something other than what is about to happen.
    She then yanks with all her strength to try and pull the crowbar free.

Deadpool has posed:
    "I KNOW, right? I've had a lot of things stuck in my ---" Deadpool begins to chatter, easily led into the distraction, before she yanks and pulls the whole metal thing free. "Pull up, pull up, we're going to crash! Get to the choppa!" Deadpool announces, and then partially collapses on the floor of the shower, bashing his face on the tile in the process. Crunch. He lays there on his front, face on the tile, with a few fingers tracing the very pretty circle of the shower drain, and the bloody muck that pulses out from the 'reopened' wound that was healing in his head.

    Since it's Deadpool, the muck does stop right away, but the gaping hole is an eerie vision path through his head to the other side.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    She could move him. Help roll him over. In truth, he's probably best where he is. She sets the crowbar aside, ignoring everything that it is covered with as she focuses on Wade himself.
    "Just relax. Let your powers do their thing," she says softly as she brushes a hand over his back in a gentle caress. It's just a back and forth, an offer of comfort to him while his body takes on the challenge.
    "When you are up again, we'll get you a shower. Then I'll order in Thai if you like. Get your reserves built back up."

Deadpool has posed:
    "I would like --- exactly eight fortune cookies," Wade answers. "I need a lot of good fortune." He continues to stare, close-range, at the drain, but his hand moves from the slow tracing of the circle to a thumbs-up signal at her.

    Wade COULD get up if he chose or was motivated. He's fine where he is. He seems fine with the comforting move of hand on his back, although he doesn't respond much more to it. "Maybe nine. Then you can have one too."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"I'll get a baker's dozen," Natasha offers as she continues that gentle rubbing of his back. She watches the hole through his head, knowing it will take a bit of time before it closes fully. This is more waiting for the synapses to be fused back into place as opposed to bone and flesh growing back immediately.
    "Who did you make the bet with? And did you or they put the crowbar in your head?" Let's be honest. With Wade? It's more than possible he did it himself. It even sounded almost like he did by his phrasing but right now, all things he said were suspect until his brain was fixed.
    Well, as fixed as Wade's brain ever is.

Deadpool has posed:
    "I have like eighteen possible versions of how this went down," Wade answers. He abruptly moves himself, to make himself cozy and comfortable, attempting to put his head on her lap. If there isn't a lap available he'll probably misjudge it and fall down onto the tile again. Either way.

    "So the question IS...." He pauses, either for dramatic effect or to allow some of his brain to heal, -- "how concerned with truth ARE we," he asks. He also pulls his mask up and off his face in a sudden movement of hand, raking and rubbing his eyes and nose with his fingers, exposing his skin to her view without problem or hesitation.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    As he shifts, so does Natasha. She manages to catch his head in her hands before it strikes tile. Then she crosses her legs, settling in for the long haul as she lowers his head onto her lap.
    "The truth would be good so we'll wait until everything in there is as unscrambled as it can get," she says with a soft smile. As he removes his mask, she helps do so, tossing it to the side where it lands with a wet splat.
    She looks at his revealed face, not shocked by his appearance after all their time together. In fact, she was often the one urging him to take off the mask while he preferred to keep it on. "Until then, you should just relax for a bit."

Deadpool has posed:
    Wade is nothing if not unpredictable and erratic. Perhaps the urging just had to end for things to change. Or trying to find a pattern is, in itself, not possible.

    "We should watch 'Golden Girls' to relax," Wade comes up with, of course, patting her knee. "Not here in the shower. That'd put a damper on things. Maybe. Or the opposite. Am I talking? Of course I'm talking." Wade has transferred his staring at the drain to her knee, and picks some bits of skull matter or something off her leg for her in slow little deliberate motions. Pick, flick flick with fingers. Pick, flick flick. "Nat. I'm good here if you want to do something else. I have tiles to count."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    "I'm pretty sure it's still on the streaming service as a favorite," Natasha admits as she watches him starting to clean bits and pieces of stuff off her denim covered knee.
    The jeans will have to be disposed of. Shirt too. Probably his costume. She's ticking off things in her mind even as she reaches down a hand to stroke the not-gaping-hole side of his head with her fingertips.
    "I've got nothing else to do. Despite everything, we're still friends. Unless you would prefer privacy," she suddenly asks, hand going still as she does.

Deadpool has posed:
    "Pretty lass like you, doing nothing on a Monday night?" Deadpool asks. It's Tuesday, and before lunch. "Such a shame. Shamefully shame. I blame the lout that broke your heart." That's probably accurate, blame can easily be aimed for such a thing. He runs out of bits of awfulness to pick off her pants and stops, just leaves the hand on her knee. There's a pat there that follows, though. And some creepy lack of talking for a few whole seconds.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    "There is no blame to be had on either side. We both agreed. Life has us going different directions. The feelings will always be there, I'm sure." Natasha leaves it as that as she continues to stroke the side of his head, as if she were stroking his hair if he had any.
    As the silence stretches, she can't help but smile softly. It's not often he is quiet. She appreciates his humor. It's what led her to being with him, after all. Yet she also appreciates that he can sometimes feel comfortable being quiet around her. That silence that isn't awkward.
    Or was that just his brain healing? Difficult to tell.

Deadpool has posed:
The silence doesn't last. "Don't take this personally, but I'm not entirely sure who you are or where I am," Deadpool says in a flat, serious tone. "What year is it?" he asks. And then rolls onto his back, head still on her lap, except that he lifts one arm to behind his head, a far more common pose of deliberate sexiness for the mercenary.

Yeah. Wade's fine.

"That was my amnesiac impression. Decent? More confusion? Needs a hand flung out in a dramatic 'WHO ARE YOU?' sort of thing, in a way that nobody actually would do? I mean, if I actually didn't remember you, I'd probably be really polite and just nod along. Yes we have a past, oh wow, that's true, such memories, while waiting to look in your purse when you left the room to find out what your name was. And then I'd discover pictures of us in your wallet and I'd check my arms for tattoos of clues."

Wade's just fine.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    And that earns a bit of a laugh. Natasha has to shake her head as she puts himself in to that 'sexy' pose. Which is utterly not sexy in a shower covered in blood and skull fragments and some other organic matter that came from his head. Nevermind the bloody crowbar off to the side.
    "There are no pictures of us in my wallet." She didn't even have a wallet normally. Probably somewhere when she was being a normal human being instead of a SHIELD agent. How rarely that was though! "And unless you didn't tell me, you didn't get any tattoos with my name or likeness." She really hopes he didn't. If he did, it would explain them going their seperate ways. They were curses.
    "Want me to put something over the entry and exit until they heal up?" she asks. "Or just let you shower while I order food?"

Deadpool has posed:
    "All my attempts at tattoos heal. Or make the tattoo artist vomit, or just get frustrated. It must suck to try to put lines onto my scar tissue only to see it fade right away," Deadpool says empathetically. "Which is just as well, because I have really bad judgement about what would be a stellar tattoo on me. But really great judgement about what an ugly tattoo is on someone else. Sometimes it's just easier to see what's shitty when it's not your own thing," Deadpool says 'wisely'. "I think that was in a fortune cookie. But I paraphrase."

    "You still have some of my clothes right?" Deadpool asks, and climbs to his feet, skidding a little in DP-brainz. "I can handle this. I'm a big boy. Which I know you know. Leave 'em open. I'll wash it out. Rare to have access to actually scrub in there." Yuck.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    That earns a slow blink from Natasha. Followed by an, "Oooh-kay. If that's how you prefer it." She gets to her feet, taking the mostly clean towels as she opens the door. She sets the pile outside on the top of the closed toilet seat. The bottom one is worse for wear but until she washes her hands, she's not touching the top and making them match. He'll have clean towels from the pile.
    The rest of his weapons and things are moved to the side and dropped until they can be cleaned properly. So he'll be able to get out without tripping over them.
    She leaves the guns where they are laying as she goes to the sink. There she washes her hands first. Then her gun is picked up and replaced at the back of her jeans. His is placed on the counter closest to the shower enclosure so he will have the comfort of it nearby while he showers. The does pick up the first aid kit and sets it on the counter by the sink. "Wash off the crowbar while you're in there," she suggests as she heads for the bathroom dor.

Deadpool has posed:
    "Oh-kay," Deadpool sing-songs in mimic of how she said it, but more cheerfully, standing up, and starting to strip regardless of her being fully out of the door or not. He did use a hand on the wall to steady: his brain is not really doing motor skills perfectly. His level of comfort or lack of shame currently is possibly apparent. He just does not care. He's humming something: probably the theme from titanic, but off-key. There's a sound of him picking up the crow bar to look at it, the metal-on-tile scrape sound. He puts it back down though to finish. She'll have no problem monitoring where he is, he'll start to belt it even over the shower sound of water.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    As he begins to hum, Natasha smiles and shakes her head a bit. She does follow suit, stripping out of her stained clothes and leaving them in a heap on the floor. In her undergarments, she heads for the bedroom where she changes into something clean as she listens to the singing crank up in volume.
    Her gun is slipped into the back of the new jeans as she heads for the living room. There she finds her cell phone and she flips it open, finding the contact and calling in the order for Thai food while giving him some privacy. And listening closely to be sure there are no crashing sounds in case he collapses.

Deadpool has posed:
    "NEAR, FAR, WHEREVER YOU AAAARE," Comes from the bathroom in a volume appropriate only for sound test commercials at a movie theater. There are no crashing sounds that would suggest his collapse, only some general knocking around sounds that are extremely normal for him and whatever adventure he's having in there.

    He doesn't spend ages though, he scrubs down, and then comes padding out of the bathroom in the smallest of the towels on his middle and the largest towel wrapped around his head as if he had a huge amount of hair to wrap in it. It does mask the big holes in his head. "I need a trash bag," he says, fully intending to scour the kitchen for one. Lots of his butt is visible as he attempts that.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    It's a good thing her condo is soundproofed.
    She learned the necessity of that a long time ago when someone tried to kill her there. Guns made lots of noise. So did people being questioned for information while they bled out on the carpet. Thus, no more carpet.
    As he heads for the kitchen, she is given a view of his backside in passing. The disparity of towel size to area being covered isn't lost on her but she manages not to giggle.
    "Lower cabinet to the left of the sink," she calls out to him from her spot on the sofa in the living room. "If you want to just fill it with everything, I'll see to it that it's all disposed of safely." Incinerated. No need to leave DNA laying around for people to find.

Deadpool has posed:
    "Naw, gonna repair some of it. Besides, it's just messy. Only the face got fucked," Deadpool calls in answer, while he finds the bag he wanted. There's a lot of plastic rustling as he trots back to the bathroom. "Where did you put my jammieeees," comes from the bathroom not long afterwards. He's referring to clothes he may have left there (with his borked memory, that may or may not still be the case), as he roves in the towels freely. A bit too freely, maybe. "So as to not give delivery boy nightmares. At least not undue nightmares."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    "They might like it. You never know. Spice up their evening," Natasha returns easily as she motions toward the bedrom. "Everything you left is still in the closet. Far right side. A few things in the top drawer of the dresser."
    Honestly, she has been meaning to return it but it hasn't been a really pressing thing so she hadn't quite gotten it done. Not a big deal. There was plenty of room for her things still despite his. After all, they'd mainly stayed at his place. It was rare they'd stayed here, except back when they first had started seeing each other.
    A few minutes later, there is a ping from the security system. She goes to check and buzzes through the familiar face of a delivery guy she's seen several times in the past. It doesn't mean she goes to the door without a weapon. Her Glock is in her left hand but held behind her back so it isn't visible when she opens the door. She is even standing to the side of the door when she opens it, to present less of a target.

Deadpool has posed:
    A few minutes meant Wade had enough time to get into his pile of things and put most of them out on the bed in an array. "This shit is so last year," he observes, but accepts the spongebob lounge pants as acceptable, pulling them on, before he hears the bell. He snares one of his own guns and cheerfully bounds down the hallway as some kind of demented loudly moving backup. He accidentally hit the wall of the hallway on his way down, but steadied. The towel still on his 'hair' fell forward, and he takes a moment to one-handedly flip it around into a cape. Wade's still out of sight, just a carnival of weird sounds behind Natasha. He doesn't come parading out yet, but he does align properly as backup. In case there's fun. He won't be left out.

    "12 cookies," Wade reminds.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    As the door is opened, not attacks come. The man outside is holding two large paper bags and one plastic one. "Good evening."
    "Hello, Terry. Smells amazing," Natasha says as she steps more to the doorway and takes one of the bags. She sets it aside then catches the other two. They also end up on the table by the door. She fishes a bill out of her pocket while she is looking in the second paper bag. "Thirteen fortune cookies, right?"
    "Actually, we gave you 14. Since you're a regular."
    Such a splurge. One whole cookie. "Thanks. See you next time." She passes over the ten to the delivery guy then closes the door behind it. The lock is turned to secure it and she puts her Glock back in her jeans.
    "Come help me with his. We'll just eat in the living room. I'll put on Golden Girls for you."

Deadpool has posed:
    Wade didn't intentionally hide. He got distracted trying to get the towel to hang properly for his big entrance. And talking to it. It has two really large reddish splotches on it: from being crushed into the sides of the holes in his head. He gives up on it, throwing it sideways into the bathroom, and comes out around the same time she's calling him to come help. He puts his own gun into the back of the lounge pants, not that that holds very well, and pitches in. He's hard to look at as usual, with his entire torso bare, and the lesions and scar masses fully displayed, shiny from the shower. He smells like her soaps. And blood.

    "YAY. It's like you know me," Wade celebrates childishly, helping with the food and picking a spot to sit: the floor in front of the couch on the left. He digs the gun out of his crack to put it aside, unconcerned, really. He could kill a delivery boy with the plastic bag the takeout came in, anyway.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    Food is unpacked into it's various to-go containers. Plastic untensils were provided with the meal so those are put with the different containers. Natasha does go to the kitchen long enough to pick up beverages. Two bottles of water. Then a bottle of vodka from the freezer and two glasses. If he cares to partake, he can.
    She settles on the couch cross legged, pulling over a container of noodles to be in reach before getting comfy. Her Glock disappears into the built in hiding compartment she has on the couch. Both ends. It pays to be paranoid in her line of work.
    She pours her own vodka then settles in with her noodles. The remote is grabbed and she offers it to him. "You want to drive?"

Deadpool has posed:
     "Unless you want me to backseat drive," Wade says, accepting the remote without fight. He doesn't actually care either way: the options of doing it himself or excessively bugging her for her to push the buttons are both totally reasonable resolutions by him. He ends up having a lot of the water: he had some dehydration from the blood loss. Otherwise, he digs in with fork. He lacks the articulation to work chopsticks even if they were offered. Or maybe just the patience at the moment.

    "I think I'm healin' well. Won't need to slumber party maybe. Still might not be safe to operate heavy or light machinery," he assures her, angling his head for her to look if she wants. She'd be unable to see through it anymore; he's filling in, though the bone sure isn't there yet. Just the mushy parts, because a lot of it was just crushed out of the way, not destroyed. The bone will take more time.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    To have such a thing shown to the average person while they are scooping up Thai noodles with chopsticks would likely evoke a negative response. Verbalized or articulated in the form of vomiting all over the healing party.
    Natasha and Wade aren't the average person.
    "It's doing very well. Surprised it's filling in that fast. Figured it'd be a few hours. I do envy that healing factor sometimes." Nto the cancer that goes with it, of course.
    Btoh btotles of water were for him. She'll stick to her vodka. But should it be needed, she'll get some more for him. She's nto generally the go and get it for someone type but he did just have a crowbar in his head nto that long ago. She can be generous for a bit.
    "If you need to stay here, you know you are welcome."

Deadpool has posed:
    "WELL, I think it might be an interesting adventure to see where my teleporter ends up taking me. This was already a good adventure though, so I may not want to push my luck on it," Wade points out, accepting the noodles that look overly like the contents of his head. He adds some red hot sauce on, which only increases the similarity. He eats, clearly happy with the food, and the show that he navigates to with the remote, and the company. Things are great.

The teleporter reacts to his thoughts, which means he did drive it here, even with the crowbar in his head. Perhaps best to just accept that fact and not dwell on his motives or level of sanity. "Speaking of luck, the cookies," Wade reminds himself. He reaches for them and swats himself. "End of meal. Suffer until then. Proper adult."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    He did have a crowbar in there. No telling if it was a choice or instinct to seek her out. He probably wouldn't know himself at this point. Too much brain tissue having to be replaced.
    As Natasha enjoys her noodles, stifling a giggle as he doesn't allow himself a cookie. "You know that life is uncertain. For most of us," she amends. "Perhaps one cookie wouldn't ruin your meal?"

Deadpool has posed:
        "Yeah, wait. I'm adult. I can eat my cookies on top of my noodles. Not that I would. I'm not a fucking ANIMAL," Wade asserts, but he does pull the baggie towards himself and begin to open them, eating the cookies as he goes, and making a little row of fortunes. "'Present your best ideas today to an eager and willing audience'" Wade reads. "It's like it knows. Or is extremely generic and encouraging. Either way I feel better about life. And that's what matters in the end. Do you want that one? I'm eager and willing. About a lot of things."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    Far be it from her to put his light under a barrel yet she feels the need to point out, "I don't think that's how it works. You open it, it's your fortune. If I open it, then it's my fortune."
    Natasha doesn't seem to be in a hurry to claim her one out of that big bag. "When you find one you think I should open, toss it this way." Otherwise, she continues to eat her noodles.
    A brief glance is given to the screen of the tv, just to see what he might have settled on. With him it could be anything. And it may even change multiple times. Good thing she doesn't care.

Deadpool has posed:
    "You and your restrictive fortune cookie rules. They can't contain me," Wade replies, still arranging his fortunes. He did pick something to watch; apparently 'Deadliest Catch', the show about extremely dangerous crab fishermen in the arctic, struck him as appropriate to push play on. It's currently some shot of the boat rocking on the seas and things falling overboard while the crew nearly dies (so every episode ever). He is mostly looking at his cookies though, and eating; the show is barely background noise to the usual production going on inside (and outside) his own head.

    "My head feels like it has a hole in it," Wade complains suddenly. "Like my personality is oozing out. And it still keeps smelling really weird in here. Sometimes there are pretty shapes. I mean. Aside from the usual shapes."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    Why is that show interesting? Natasha watches for about six seconds then is back to focusing on her food. She does pause in her eating to take a nice shot of vodka before refilling her glass. Then back to the chopsticking of noodles.
    When he mentions strange smells, she pauses and looks at him closely. For any other person, she'd be asking them to raise their hands above their heads, recite the alphabet and confirming if the smell is toast. With Wade? He has a healing hole in his head from a large metal object. She's pretty sure a stroke is the least of his worries right now.
    "Your head does have a hole in it. But not for much longer. The bone will take a bit." So he's told her before and she's seen first hand. "But you should be back to your normal shapes and smells in no time." She's going to regret this.
    "What are you smelling?"

Deadpool has posed:
    Wade looks at her. Sometimes there's regret. Sometimes there's a LOT of regret. "Colors," Wade answers, as if there was nothing at all wrong with him saying it that way. "The smell of yellow." He diverts his eyes to the television. He also seems to question who might like that show, but also doesn't change it. He wants to see who falls overboard or gets hurt. It's like watching a strange sailing train wreck.

    "And time. A few minutes ago smelled different than now. I might not have words. But I can try to have words." Because Deadpool is good at WORDS. "Also it's confusing because I expected to smell Chinese noodles. But it's more like new-plastic when you unwrap a toy. It's /shiny/," he describes, while eating his plastic-noodles.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
    For a long moment, Natasha says nothing. Again, uncharted territory. Should she be worried? Or not? She puts her faith in his healing factor doing what it should be doing and doesn't try to analyze too much.
    "Hopefully as the wound heals, the smells will change. And the colors. So you can smell the noodles. They do smell really good. A little spicy but good," she offers as a way to try and let him know where things stand. Unless he's happy in his little world. He often is.

Deadpool has posed:
    Deadpool looks at the noodles as if resentful of their inability to smell as described. He leans forward and takes in an enormous deep breath of the noodles. "Yeah, I'm not getting that," he says, plaintive, in despair of his lack of proper brain functionality. "I'm getting more like the feeling you have when you pop bubble wrap. So, not bad. Kind of fun. The taste is there. I'm not losing my mind. I mean. In any inordinately big way. Not that I can judge that. A little close to it." Deadpool only pauses in talking to wolf his bubble wrap noodles.

    "One time I had an imaginary friend that would not leave me alone. He did NOT have a good singing voice," Deadpool assures. "This is nice and quiet." He remembers his fortunes, rearranges them, looking at them, and then suddenly starts to change the television show. His focus isn't there, but there's good coherency overall. "I can shotgun a little." He gives her the remote. And a slight little look passing over his face of self-awareness. He's noticed he's off: which may suggest more than anything else that he's tuning back in. His interior monologue is probably back online.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Let's see if we can find something with Bea in it for you." Natasha accepts the remote but then quickly pulls up the menu options. She's finds the favorites menu. There are all sorts of things he had added once upon a time. A little bit of everything and anything represented. Through there, she searches for his precious Golden Girls.
    As she catches that look, she gives him a reassuring smile. So that he knows it will be okay. She's confident of it. Hopefully her confidence will feed to his own. It just will take some time.
    Finding what she was looking for, she clicks on any episode. After all, he's seen them all. She sets the remote back on the coffee table, easily within his reach if he opts to change it.
    She takes another shot of the vodka then pours a third. One of the blessings that came from the serum they used for her was long life and extremely slowed aging. The other? An ability to drink alcohol without adverse effects unless she went for the Gold.

Deadpool has posed:
    "Sure! That's a wonderful idea," Wade agrees, proud of her. He entirely forgot that he mentioned it earlier himself. All of that? Gone. The memories are a mess, short term is probably recovering now. He seems surprised and interested in his fortune cookies again, but doesn't remark on them. He just opens another one, and relaxes into watching his favorite show, chatty about it occasionally. He's healing: and things will, indeed, be okay.

    "You're just mid-heal. Stop with the questions." That was to himself.

    "That's a good wrap."

    "It would have been if you stopped talking. ...Oooooo."