6313/Angel of the Morning

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Angel of the Morning
Date of Scene: 29 January 2019
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Captain America babysits an injured Deadpool during laundry.
Cast of Characters: Captain America, Deadpool




Captain America has posed:
Outside of the blood-sullied bathroom, Steve leans back on the hallway wall. He slowly rubs at one temple, his eyes downcast to the carpeted flooring, with his other arm hugged across his chest to tuck around his opposite side. Jessica was kind to take his sneakers and sweatshirt, both difficult if not impossible to salvage after the removal of that wooden spar from Deadpool's head. Not a proper surgery at all, that. He's still in his spattered jeans and socks (at least those survived) and the long-sleeved heather-grey shirt he was in beneath the sweatshirt initially.

He's patiently waiting to see how Wade emerges from the bathroom, having apparently elected himself the Merc's temporary babysitter - warden? - whatever.. Multiple towels were left out to grab once the man is done and even a set of sweatpants and Avengers t-shirt, dark-blue with a brisk-white 'A' on the front.

Deadpool has posed:
There's the sound of a hairdryer. A good guess is he's not drying hair, but other things.

Wade does emerge, though, after a time.

The attire is an interesting mixture. He doesn't have his usual suit on entirely, but has layered things creatively. He has the sweatpants and Avengers t-shirt on, with the rinsed harness from his own suit over that: the belt, some of the leg harnesses: things easily dried. His arms and hands are bare except for what is presumably his inducer on one wrist and a Dora the Explorer watch on the other. He's barefoot. Perhaps most interestingly he's removed the mask (so there's lots and lots of cancer on display overall), because he's carrying it and the semi-folded suit in a bundle.

Carrying it with a very upset expression, though, because it has a big hole in the back cranium. The items seem rinsed and wet: he did have them in the shower with him. So he isn't tracking blood around, but they are dripping.

"Got a dryer?" Wade asks as he exits, aware of Steve there, of course. Mercenary-spider-senses. Also not being blind.

Demeanor is mellow and ...probably /bizarrely/ calm and normal-person.

Captain America has posed:
Hearing the doorknob turn, Steve clears his throat as he straightens in place. By the time he's pushed himself off the wall, Wade has completely cleared the doorway to the bathroom. The Captain can't help the blink; he had expected the mask to remain on, but it isn't the first time he's seen the Merc without it on and strives, as always, to remain unfailingly civil.

"Yes, there's a dryer in the guest bedroom," he replies and tilts his head as he turns to walk, indicating for Wade to follow him. "No one's staying in it right now, so you can toss whatever you need in it and there won't be an issue." It's not a long walk, about half a hallway or so, and Steve open-plans up one of the myriad bedroom doors. The apartment-bedroom is roomy, open-plan, and the washer/dryer set appears to be tucked back behind a set of sliding doors that allow ample counter space to fold clothing afterwards. Pulling the cream-painted doors open-plan, Steve then steps to one side. "Here."

Deadpool has posed:
"Okay," Wade says simply, agreeable. His tone is muted, not excited. Just fine with the description. He comes along silently, though; creepy just in the difference in demeanor and the quiet. He's frowning down at his mask while he follows, inspecting the hole some. Always something to repair! Constant battle. When they get there, Wade looks over towards it and crosses to open it, starting to load his items in.

The angle will show the hole still obvious in his head, but there's some bone reforming now. Still, a person CAN rather look in and see raw brain and skull: and no blood. He's healing.

"If I ordered Chinese food here, would it make it to me?" Wade asks curiously (and super coherently), fishing his phone out, and tapping at it. The phone is an explosion of cheerful pink rainbow Lisa Frank art. Rainbow DOLPHIN!

Captain America has posed:
Upon recognizing the semi-healed state of the head wound, Steve slides his eyes to one side and sighs slowly. His time in the war did a job of inuring him to the sight of critical injuries, but he certainly won't stare at the site if he doesn't have to.

"It should, yes. They'd drop it off at the front door if you weren't there to pick it up yourself -- or if you don't send a bot down to do it. Tony goes it regularly." The Captain then takes a few steps backwards before sitting on the nearest desk, a small thing meant to be home for a laptop or filing reports or whatever a guest might need. "You okay?" he asks, brows knitted. "That was a hell of a thing to do, pull that spar out of your head. I haven't seen anyone...guess I'll use 'tolerate' something like that since Logan and the rebar through his leg. We can have the Medbay staff look you over before you leave." There's an undertone of query, as if the comment weren't merely just Steve deciding upon something. It's still in Wade's hands in the end.

Deadpool has posed:
"I'm always okay if you wait long enough," Wade replies, amusement touching the tone, as he arranges the items in the dryer. He checks all the pockets before he puts them in, which is really what is taking AGES. He starts to collect a pile of really bizarre things on the surface next to the dryer. Some are weapons. MOST are weapons, but other things aren't. There's some lifesavers there, and he eats one, and offers a cherry one towards Steve expectantly.

"Lots of people, including me, have tested that limit. Doctors just vomit, I'm not in the mood to clean vomit off my shoes." Not that he's wearing shoes. "Regrowing limbs takes longer! This doesn't /feel/ deep; probably just the rest of the morning?" Wade guesses.

It's not morning.

Wade may look aware, but he's not fully functional yet.

Captain America has posed:
"It's...not morning, Wade," replies Steve quietly as he takes the offered cherry lifesaver. He pockets the candy for later and hopefully remembers before he removes the jeans to either wash them or, as another Avenger might put, burn them to cinders. "And I'm not gonna make you go downstairs if you don't wanna. Just..." He winces as another angle showcases the pink-smeared skull bone. He doesn't finish that sentence and instead just shakes his head and looks away again. It seems rhetorical to tell the man to 'be careful'.

A clearing of throat. "If you're okay, I need to let the librarians know that everything's fine. You need anything else? Figured you could wait in here while your suit-pieces dry."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade had his sharp gaze angled sideways, and takes in the wince from Steve. His jaw tenses just a little, and he moves other hand across the laundry to tap the inducer. His expression is weird, during that, due to his really messed up skin surface, but it reads fine once the inducer is on. He's some reasonably okay-looking blonde guy Steve probably hasn't seen before, dressed in something close enough to what he's actually wearing, just different colors. Probably what his perception currently said he was wearing. The Avengers shirt is now just sort of a pea-green instead of blue. But there's no more injuries or cancer skin to stare at.

"I was gonna eat. Blood loss like whoa," Wade grins. "I never did get my orange juice," he says, suddenly extremely sad: and more like 'himself'.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's brows flick up as he realizes this is true: where is that orange juice? "Actually, lemme check with JARVIS about the juice," he says, pushing himself off the desk and walks over to the guest bedroom door, left open. "JARVIS, can you send up a bot with a glass of orange juice?"

"Yes, Captain," replies the mansion's embedded AI.

"Thank you," replies the soldier, polite even to the oddity that is the semi-sentient robotics in the walls. He then walks back over to the desk and regains his seat there, arms lightly crossed before his broad chest. His eyes wander down and up Wade once. "How does that work anyways, the image...gadget?"

Deadpool has posed:
The pockets are endless, Wade is still doing it, with a sort of infinite patience related to it. But finally the pile is a pile, and he tosses the costume parts into the dryer and starts it up. He bends at the waist to peer into the dryer for a few long moments while he answers. "You know, I don't REALLY know?" Wade says, tone moving chatty. "Pretty sure it picks up on the brain waves of the thing in my head at the time, and can make me look like it. I can look like certain things, but sometimes I just don't worry about it and it works out," Wade shares. He stands up, but there's no bounce to it.

"I'm usually not SURE entirely what I look like," he laughs. "But it's not for me, now IS it," he says overly rationally, and crosses the room towards Steve. Whether Steve tenses at Wade's approach is another thing: after all, he probably has a type of PTSD by now with Wade coming at him!

"Can you also just ask them for Chinese?! I need to live HERE," Wade says, in awe of the magical talking bot-walls.

Captain America has posed:
"Hmm." A quiet, thoughtful little sound from Steve at the explanation. He files it away for further discussion with Tony. While there's a smidgeon of guilt involved with the considerations, he is wondering at how to counteract it, if really for Wade's safety around the mansion more than anything else. After all, the teleportation device hasn't been countered just yet, given Wade's presence.

The soldier does straighten from the waist up where he sits on the edge of the desk and, yes, a subtle wariness does enter his eyes as he watches the Merc approach him. Still, there is sanity on display and he doesn't wish to encourage anything but this at the time. "I can ask them for Chinese, yes. Dunno about you living here though. The team would have to agree on it. Just how it goes." The shrug is apologetic, in its way.

Deadpool has posed:
"Oh, I didn't mean REALLY live here; I have a GREAT place, even if it's not full of creepy robots that watch you take a shit," Wade laughs, reacting in sudden amusement at the very idea. "I shoot people for money. Let's be realistic," smirks the merc, with a flare of eyes in a show of sharp self-awareness. He's crazy, and plays, but he gets a lot more than he lets on, probably. And he's sane enough at the moment to prove that in a tangible way. He sat at the edge of the desk, too. All normal-like.

"Thank you for helping me!" Wade suddenly declares, and attempts to hug his friend. Just that simple. There's no running leap, but the words are fully heartfelt, and don't have a flirtation vibe to them. "I don't remember something stuck in my head, but I believe you and there's a hole in my skull and face, so."

'Face', as before, is Wade's term for his mask.

Captain America has posed:
A soft snort at Wade's apt description of his personal job set and Steve ducks his chin to try and hide the one-sided curl of amusement that flitters across his lips. Like as not, he's relieved to hear that Wade isn't truly putting in for one of the empty bedrooms at the mansion. He glances over at Wade when the man joins him in resting on the desk.

The hug? While unexpected, the tension in the Captain's body is minimal -- still no need to cause kerfuffle. He merely seems to tolerate it and sneaks out one hand from his semi-trapped folded arms in order to give the Merc a firm pat-pat on his outside-arm bicep in return.

"You're welcome. How'd you manage it? It looked like shrapnel," Steve comments, frowning as he does.

Deadpool has posed:
"I'm not going to stab you," Wade says playfully of the tension he can clearly sense, nudging Steve's near shoulder with a fist firmly, using his interior arm of the hug. Wade hugs a lot of people, he knows tense anxiety when he feels it. "You should get a massage," he advises. And then lifts one finger, "I wasn't offering, as tempted as I can tell you are. You reek of fear," prattles the mercenary. It's possibly soothing, in a manner: easy to forget that Wade nearly shot them /dead/ not hours before.

"Pretty sure I was exploded," Wade says, releasing the hug more fully. "Following some gang members so they'd lead me to their boss, and whoops, explosion from some motherfucker of a giant weapon they shouldn't have had." He describes this with his hands and an explodey-noise of his mouth. "Usually no problem, I just go ahead with the job, but sometimes with brain injury, wheeeeee!"

Captain America has posed:
Rolling his lips inwards briefly, Steve nods in acknowledgement of both the lack of stabbage as well as the massage. "You can't smell fear," he then mutters under his breath, brows drawing together in mild exasperation. When released from the affectionate hold of arms, he rolls his shoulders in counter-rhythm to release lingering tension gathered there.

"Do you remember anything about the gang, including the boss? You did...do," he amends drily, " - have a hole in your head...still."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade doesn't get personal boundaries much, by appearances. But he also hasn't really been told no. At least not in his recent memory. He does drop his arms to his lap, unwrapping another lifesaver. Across the way, the dryer tumbles.

"Of course. I got full stalker-level info on all of them. We got nastiness, big time: weapons trafficking, I think cocaine," Wade says, scratching his eyebrow. "A rival gang wants their boss--- um, not able to do those things any more," he smirks, evading saying he's going to murder people. "Also, gah, Wade, LANGUAGE!" Wade gasps, belatedly over his 'motherfucker' comment, one hand to his chest. He gags on the lifesaver due to breathing in too quickly, but recovers and sucks on it.

Captain America has posed:
Steve listens quietly, now resting his palms on the edge of the desk and one leg out straight. He nods, eyes off to one side as if he's processing what he's hearing, but does look up quickly at the sounds of struggled breathing. He straightens sharply and one arm flies back behind Wade with the intent to smack between the Merc's shoulderblades -- but no need, the lifesaver is no longer acting against its namesake.

"God, Wade," the Captain breathes, vexed at the unpredictable behaviors of the man, before sighing once. "Alright, what else can you tell me?" He settles back to resting on the edge of the desk again, intently listening by his expression. A bot rolls smoothly into the room and atop a tray balanced on its...head? What could be a head. Two glasses of orange juice, one for each to enjoy to their relative degree of contentment as further information is exchanged about this brewing gang-war and the Captain muses over potential answers.