6130/On yer Lawns, with yer Gnomes

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On yer Lawns, with yer Gnomes
Date of Scene: 07 January 2019
Location: Xavier's School, Westchester, New York
Synopsis: Deadpool is allowed to stay at the X Mansion for ONE NIGHT, since it's cold.
Cast of Characters: Deadpool, Storm




Deadpool has posed:
    There's a knock at the main foyer door. "Please, it's damn colddddd and I am frozen in places that I will start to describe if you do not open the dooooor," Wade's unhappy tone announces at top volume. He has been outside - long enough to slice open the teddy-bear gift he had brought and crawl partially inside of it like it was a Taun-taun from Star Wars.

So it is a Deadpool with a teddy bear for a back hopping up and down on the snowy stoop.

Storm has posed:
Ororo has been aware of Deadpool's presence since he arrived. But allowing him to freeze is another thing entirely. Without further hesitation, she comes to the door and opens it. "You've been waiting some time. Are you in earnest with your visit, or just hoping to get a rise?"

Deadpool has posed:
"Is there not the ability to get both?" Deadpool asks overdramatically, huffing and puffing and bouncing on the stoop. He bounces his way inside with three short hops, shivering. "Even my snot is frozen," he laments, pointing at his mask. "You cannot tell, but trust me," he asks. And surveys Ororo puzzledly.

"Have we met? I feel like maybe yes. I'm Earnest Wade." He offers her a limb of the teddybear to shake, even though both of his hands are entirely free for such things.

Storm has posed:
Unflinchingly, Storm shakes the teddy bear's hand. "I know who you are. And I am Ororo Munroe." She hands him a cup of hot chocolate with thirteen marshmallows in it. "Warm your hands with it if you choose. Or warm your insides. Do you simply enjoy bouncing on our stoop, then?"

Deadpool has posed:
"I... holy... fuckshit weaselass dumplingstick. How did you fucking know," Deadpool says, accepting the cup as if it is the holy grail itself, dumping the Teddy bear in the door. He enters, humming an aria of 'ahhhhh-ahhhh-oooooo-aaaah,' while accepting the mug. He walks in, carrying it in front of him.

Storm has posed:
"I have my sources," Ororo replies. "I couldn't let you freeze, and I had the ingredients for hot chocolate. So I thought to make your day a little warmer." The language doesn't seem to faze her, one way or another, but she does pick up the unceremoniously dumped teddy bear and follow him.

Deadpool has posed:
"It's like three in the morning, though, on a school night. I had really low expectations. I thought I might get the hose," Deadpool replies, wandering inside, still holding the chocolate. He picks a chair nearby and starts to fling himself, but stops. He walks over, puts the cup down near the chair, backs off. Flings himself.

And then picks up the cup, shoves his mask up to bear his mouth and jaw, and slurps the chocolate.

His skin of jaw and neck are, of course, horrifying, etc, you know the drill; avacado fucked a roach and had a child which ate his skin, etc etc.

Storm has posed:
Ororo watches with a hint of an amused smirk as Wade slurps his hot chocolate. "No, I save the hose for special occasions. You were just a wayward wanderer, seeking refuge."

Deadpool has posed:
"That is what I am. Waywardly Wade. I like it. It has a ring of hopelessness that really does fully epit-epitom-epitimize? I can't even spell that if I tried. That epitim-mizes my whole oneness of being. Also I'm damn cold. Do we have a snuggie that can match this coco?" Wade questions, while curling up in the chair, legs tucked in, toes curled.

Storm has posed:
Shrugging, Ororo moves to a closet and opens it. Hanging inside is an assortment of coats for emergencies. She pulls out one that is pink, and looks suspiciously like a snuggie. She drapes it over Wade the best that she can, and hands him a small, mobile television. "You can stay up and watch cartoons, or you can sleep. As long as you don't cause any trouble, I don't care which. But as you mentioned, it is three in the morning, and I am going to bed." She pats him gently on the bright pink shoulder.

Deadpool has posed:
"Good-nightttttt Ms. Moooooonroe," Deadpool singsongs as if he were a child in school, and turns on the little television. It is a late night infomercial for various knives. Deadpool, satisfied, leans his cheek to the side, and seems content to drink his coco and watch the show.

"Stab the can, stab it," he whispers at the tv.