7051/I think I'm aclone now

I think I'm aclone now
Date of Scene:	27 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Steve confides in Wade about the Janet clones, and Wade isn't a total dick about it.
Cast of Characters:	Deadpool, Captain America

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Deadpool has posed:
There's a robust knocking at the door, to the tune of 'shave and a haircut'!

Behold, through the peepie-hole, there's a Deadpool there. He's hanging out on the doorstep, rocking on his heels some, arms now folded, looking in a bored manner off down the hallway. He has a shopping back looped over one arm, the plastic rustling against his hip as he waits.

Captain America has posed:
The door to the First Avenger's bedroom makes the smallest sound, as if the person behind it put their hand on the doorknob and froze entirely. Then, slowly at first and then as if they've steeled themselves, it opens to reveal Steve on the other side.

"Hey, Wade." There's a bit of a lilt to it, as if he's scrounged up some energy. The man's in a pair of black workout pants and a fitted long-sleeved shirt in hunter-green. "What can I do for you?" Ever polite, that Steve, even as he gives the Merc a patiently expectant look.

Deadpool has posed:
"Hi!" Wade chimes, taking the lilt and turning it up to 11. He also lifts a hand and does a grip-grip squeezey finger wave. "Do for me? Lots, but let's talk about you first," Wade says, directly attempting to enter Steve's room with two pats aimed towards the muscular Avenger's upper chest. He intends to just breeze on in.

Captain America has posed:
The two patpats granted to the spread of his broad chest are accepted passively. Wade gets an eyebrow and Steve is certain to step aside, but with a noted hesitance that might mean brushing past him -- not that the Merc will mind, surely.

The man closes the door and then walks over to sit heavily in his desk chair. By the spread of documents, he's doing late-night Triskelion paper-shuffling. He speaks quietly without losing clarity of speech. "Did a lot of talking about me last night." A note of iron lies beneath his words. "What else is on your mind." The files are gathered up with brisk efficiency and stuffed away into their respective manila folders.

Deadpool has posed:
"I," Wade begins in a showy manner, spinning to stop in the middle of the room and face Steve, "...have determined, upon much reflection, that I was a super shitty friend while I was here before. I didn't think of the CONSEQUENCES for you of having two hot Janets all over you. Cause it's you, and you're wholesome, like a whole basket of lentils and tofu," Wade describes. "Or other wholesome things. I'm really not wholesome so that's sort of my guess about what things you'd enjoy, other than like the experience of watching a baby smile for the first time or something." Wade stops to scratch his head on the side of his red and black mask, and also sets down his plastic bag.

"So. I'm sorry." Wade rocks on his feet once, fists near his sides adjacent to gun and knife holsters.

Captain America has posed:
Turning on his chair after observing the pirouette in place, Steve then leans an elbow on the desk and his jaw on his folded fist. By the thinning of his lips and the set of his jaw, he's dubious of the initial few words. However, the expression slowly morphs into something more akin to rueful amusement. The dimple on the right ghost into view and gains body as he watches the plastic bag settle to the carpeted floor.

Patting his thighs, Steve then gets to his feet and walks over to Deadpool. "I appreciate and accept your apology. No hard feelings, Wade." He offers a handshake along with a small if true smile.

Deadpool has posed:
"Awesome," Wade says, pumping the handshake in a receptive manner, other hand lifting in a very clear thumbs-up. His smile is apparent even through the mask, just because the merc is really expressive somehow.

"I know I'm the opposite of an acquired taste and sometimes I'm a lot to deal with, it's my special other superpower," Wade sighs. "I wasn't always like that, I'll have you know. I mean, not that there's any going back, so why try to remember it." He snaps his fingers a few times, almost at himself, as if trying to get his own attention. "Right. Good. Yay for apologies, and doing well to not talk about what things are hard, if not feelings. Good effort."

Captain America has posed:
Internally surprised to have no received a hug along with the handshake, Steve then takes one step back and eyes the plastic bag on the bedroom floor. "I really do appreciate it, Wade. You're the first," he informs the man with no venom. It seems he doesn't expect any from others. "I know you mean well...for the most part, when you attempt to help me and it doesn't work out."

He toes at the bag with a white-socked foot. "What'd you bring then?" Wade gets another look of dubious amusement as if the Captain's afraid to ask but has already committed to learning of the contents.

Deadpool has posed:
"Nobody apologizes to me either; maybe they figure I'll forget," Wade says as a throw-away comment. Wade's attention flips to the bag. "I originally had an idea of coaxing you to accept my apology with like making dinner or something. And then I decided I'd end up needing an apology for the /dinner/ I made. So it's just some beer," Wade gives. "And an ability to order pizza." Wade flips a phone up out of his belt pouch as if to prove it.

The phone is bright teal with a collection of Lisa Frank rainbow animal stickers on the back of it. The most prominant one appears to be a dolphin. There is a kitten riding it across a sea of hearts.

"And to listen if you're actually in a heap of steamy uncomfortable shit because you have to deal with clones. I don't like clones either, but mine usually end up AS steamy shits because cloning me is extremely unstable. ...But I can /empathize/."

Captain America has posed:
"I can imagine cloning you would be an adventure," Steve opines as he stoops to grab up the plastic bag. Indeed, inside is beer, and he walks over to the nearby small table. It's not large enough to seat more than three at most and meant more for temporary storage space by its owner's habit, but the beer is set in its center given the table's been cleared off as is.

Even as he grabs one for each of them and opens it (without needing a church-key given his grip is nothing to be trifled with if the containers are bottles and not cans), he glances up at Wade again. "Dunno if you've tried Coppola's, but it's not half-bad. They also do great grilled calamari." He sits in one of the table's chairs and sips at the beer. A lick of his upper lip. "Not half-bad too," he says, tilting the bottle towards the Merc.

"As far as the clones..." Steve peters off into silence. His attention drifts away from the Lisa Frank stickers and the bright costuming of the Merc to some indeterminate point in the room. "It's...it's kind of a mess, yeah."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade comes along for the ride -- in that he comes towards the kitchen area where the beer was set down, and picks a chair to sit in also. He settles both elbows on the table, chin in palms, as if Steve were telling a fascinating story. It's just Wade being colorful. And it doesn't last, either: just for a few seconds, before Wade switches gears like a possessed bicycle and sits back in his chair, legs thrust out, at ease.

"Where did the spare come from? And are they both SURE they're the original?" Wade asks, interested.

Captain America has posed:
Taking a long slug of the beer to drain at least half of the volume present, Steve sets down the container and sighs. He reaches back to rub behind his ear as he replies drily,

"One's the original. I'd know it blindfolded." How, he doesn't elucidate. "The other's...the other's a clone. Janet was kidnapped by a rogue scientist working for the same group as the Sentinel force. At least, that's what we can figure. They're dabbling in cloning now on top of AI and robotics." His voice drips sizzling disdain for a second before he composes himself again with a curt clearing of his throat. "Got her back along with the clone after we raided the place. Panther and Scarlet Witch," come the clarification as to 'we'.

Deadpool has posed:
"Oh yeah. Remind me. I have a sentinel people thing," Wade says, with a stab of finger, but he reins in the discussion some from derailing that way. He'll just probably really need the reminder. He reaches across for beer also, but doesn't bother trying to open it himself, he waggles it at Steve for opensies as if they'd had some history of this in the past.

"Seems offbrand for them, maybe a rogue weirdo," Wade wonders. "Was she the only clone?"

Captain America has posed:
Without grumble, the Captain takes the container. A flick of his sturdy grip and then he hands it back to Wade, now open for the Merc to enjoy.

"Yeah, we figured it was someone rogue. Didn't seem to be the usual modus operendi for the Sentinel folks, but...god only knows what they're getting into at this point. Well, maybe Stark knows, but I can ask." By his tone, he's not looking forwards to hearing of what Trask had to say about things. "Seems like she was the only clone, yep. The equipment wasn't set up for more than one body and it got destroyed in the process. If we find another, I..."

A slow shake of Steve's head and slouch in his chair precedes him rubbing at one temple. "I dunno what I'm gonna do, Wade."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade accepts the beer and sets about peeling his mask up to rest in the general position he usually leaves it for imbibing, across his nose bridge, and drinks it.

"Well. It's about the girl, right?" Wade asks. "I mean, it's /her/ clone. Not yours. Sorta her responsibility: she's a superhero too, huh?" He fiddles with the beer, turning it under his hand in an easy spin. Wade has some interesting dexterity: he won't drop or spill it unintentionally. "So maybe just let her tell you. I mean, yeah, give 'er benefit of a really fucked up situation, but if she's NOT apologizing for being weird, warning bells." Wade makes a warning light flash-flash with one hand.

"Unalike me. Such apologies, much better." Thumbs up.

Captain America has posed:
With a stretch in the chair, Steve dedicates himself to a full slouch in the chair. His legs splay wide and he rolls the rounded bottom of the container on the table itself as he stares heavy-lidded at it. His brows are still knitted.

A puff of a loud sigh. "Yep, apologies are indications of care. 'm not gonna deny that. You're right though." He nods as he continues rubbing at his temple slowly. "She can handle it. She's a strong dame. I'll help as I can. She might not need any of my help at all in the end. Never know. Still, no reason not to lend a hand."

His salute of beer is to Wade and his idea. The emptied bottle is then set aside for him to crack open another. No sign of inebriation is present -- it's all about the taste.

Deadpool has posed:
"I wasn't suggesting you kick them down the stairs and whoever lands with less noise is the one you peel off the floor," Wade says without sounding like he's kidding. "Maybe they're acting crazy because it's weird to have a double. I'd looooove to have a brother that liked to do all the things I do. But also maybe not. I already have me in my head and I don't always like me," Wade says, chatty, the thoughts just tumbling out like an overflowing toilet.

"Sorry. Focusing. Help them maybe. But it's about them. So keep it about them. That's what I think. S'not what you're gonna do, is it? Unless you want to murder the extra one or something and need to sort out body disposal."

Captain America has posed:
"'m not going to go around disposing of bodies, Wade." The reproachful tone is still mild as he eyebrows across the table at the Merc. "Not gonna kick anyone down the stairs either. By help, I mean listen. She's gonna want to bounce ideas off of someone. Who better than someone who briefly had a clone?" He gives Wade a significant look across the table, but it smoothes out into a ghost of a good-natured smirk in passing.

"What would you do, if you were in my shoes?" He pauses and then squints. "This isn't an invitation to get into my shoes, Wade, or any other clothing or suit on or off my body. Also, keep the ideas non-lethal and the least embarrassing as possible, hmm?"

Deadpool has posed:
Wade blinks and looks offended. SO OFFENDED, drawing back with an overly extreme hand pressed to his own upper chest. Once he's done gasping, he waggles his beer, drinks it down entirely, and sets the empty glass down with a resounding thunk.

"Okay. I would probably have sex with them first; a threesome if they got along. But I feel like you're asking for an answer that would apply to you, not to me." Wade takes a long moment, stroking a nonexistant beard with his gloved fingertips. He also deliberately removes his mask, as if to say, 'Hey Steve, I'll be honest and open and exposed with you for a minute.'

"I think I'd look at my lady and do whatever she needed from me. Assuming I loved her. Because that's what that shit /is/." He taps a few fingers on the table as he rests a forearm there. "I'd make it clear it was her I wanted. Sometimes that's all anybody wants." Wade sobers and rubs a few fingers over where is left eyebrow was. "But what do I know?"

Captain America has posed:
Wade might as well be rehearsing his dramatic response at a drolly amused wall for all that Steve reacts. He closes his eyes briefly at the initial response and it's apparent that he finds himself, at least, somewhat regretting asking. However, his eyebrows slowly rise as he now gazes upon Deadpool unmasked. There is something symbolic in it, in its way.

The Captain is left wordless at first. The words ring to something in him and then...at the corner of one side of his mouth...a deepening dimple. His face shifts to open and thoughtful acknowledgement as he nods towards Wade almost in a fencer's salute. "Good. Thought that was the right thing to do. Glad I did it." Then the Merc's under scrutiny. "I think you know more than you let on, Wade. You're a good man for coming here and talking over a beer. A good friend."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade laughs, rolling his eyes skyward with a toss of head. Suddenly some of Wade's animated behavior may make sense: the toss of head and a lot of it may come as a way to convey through a mask. Or through the cancer. Or whatever else it is. Or Wade's just batshit.

"Hold up now, I convey EVERYTHING. I think that's more the thing. Everything, but sometimes it just jumbles up into a huge word-vomit and eh, it's like trying to sort through shit for less shitty shit." Wade squints one eye, but then gestures. Good enough. Point clearly made.

"I'm working on my hero-ing. Bailing a few buckets of water that are clearly drowning poor Captain America is appropriate hero-work, I think," Wade brags, but is grinning. His skin is awful, his teeth aren't. Just needs less eerie scabbed lip, but it is what it is.

"I figured there'd be a line of people wanting to help you. But eh, you give and give until you're empty, huh?" Wade asks, suddenly gentle.

Captain America has posed:
The blond lets out a surprised laugh in mirror to the behavior on display. He falls quiet quickly, almost as if guard off-guard by his own actions, even if his smile doesn't completely recede away.

"Verbal vomit's right," he says in mild agreement between Wade's thoughts before he sips at his beer. The flavor's not bad, but it's flavored water in the end with some carbonation. He pauses with the drink still held to his lips at the sudden near-boomerang shift in tone.

With the appearance of caution, he lowers the bottle and carefully swallows. His gaze shifts askance of Wade and he looks at the writing on the cardboard beer caddy without reading it. "Suppose that's a way to put it," the Captain finally reneges. "Doesn't seem right to be sparing if I can help. Been in a place where the world didn't want to help. Can't stand to see others there. Doesn't seem fair when I've got the strength to keep on." The sigh seems unhelped, perhaps a betrayal in its way. "Why stop. People seem happy for it."

Deadpool has posed:
Wade watches Steve for a pause, then smiles. "You're precious," Wade says, flippant, amused, and entirely honest about it. He isn't snarky in tone, it's an assessment that's entirely positively meant, and would be laughable in other contexts or maybe embarrassing if others were present. It's not a flirtation, either, it comes with no gestures or hugs or motions.

Wade, the unpredictable, maddening merc that he is, just says it and picks up a beer again and extends it for opening. Wade's reaction to beer varies depending on the scene; this one he seems to be mellowed by it. Or mellow because he thinks he should be mellow, which is probably just the same in the end.

"If you think I'm gonna encourage or discourage or anything else, not gonna. You're gonna do your thing. Just like I do," Wade says, and extends his beer for a clink.

Captain America has posed:
"...'m not precious," comes the quiet grousing. Still, all Steve does is shake his head slowly in the end rather than pursuing his point. He doesn't outright disagree to all aspects of the comment nor does he deny Wade the opportunity to enjoy another beer. The cap pops and he hands it back across the table.

"That you've got right, Wade. To doing our thing," and he leans forwards to give the opposing container a resounding sound of saluting impact. "Within reason," he quips with a small smile. The tone implies that he includes himself in the dry implication.

Deadpool has posed:
"Not precious, then. Invaluable and inestimable. Without price. I, myself, have a price for most things. But not everything." Wade leaves that mystery hanging.

The toast gets a laugh of pleasure when it's accepted. An arching waggle of brows follows. "And often without reason, but with BEST intentions," Wade replies, grinning back. He'd forgotten to bring up his Sentinel thing. But they're having a moment.

And for Wade, sometimes that itself? ....that's invaluable.