Summary:Gwen comes to check on Wade who is keeping an eye on the Freeman family who he's somehow coerced into staying at a seedy hostel. Surely this will end well! Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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Morristown, NY, hundreds of miles upstate from NYC, is where the five year old Brian Morrison is from. It's where Wade Wilson had to go, with a five year old in tow, in order to return the boy to his family and collect a $10,000 reward.
However, the boy didn't stay there.
For reasons yet unexplained, the family and their children are now staying at a hostel in the Bowery. Not the best part of town, and certainly not the kind of place a white picket fence family on the Canadian border would choose to visit, but, suffice it to say, Wade had been persuasive.
Spider-Man was in on all of this, of course; and by extension, Spider-Woman. Deadpool had insisted she be kept in on the plan. The plan, as it were, had two prongs.
Protect Brian Freeman, and blow ten grand within the next week on the biggest party Sister Margaret's has seen since the last one.
Deadpool is perched upon the edge of a building overlooking the hostel. His legs swing over the side while 'Insane In The Brain' plays over his cell phone. A six pack of beer sits next to him, along with six other already crushed cans scattered around the rooftop, amidst what appears to be half eaten carryout Chinese.
"Like Louie Armstrong!" Deadpool quietly sings along, "Hit the trumpet I'll hit that bong and break ya off something soon!"
The Spidergwen had wanted to keep tabs, not only on the kiddo, but also on Wade himself. Last she saw was an obliterated ceiling while she averted her eyes from Wade's tendervittles so they could mend in relative privacy.
So now she's slippin' across that rooftop, joining in to sing along. Still masked. Still beslippered. Still sassy.
"Cops, comin' tryin' ta snatch…." Wade's voice fades at hearing another, and his body does an over dramatic turn. The white eye-circles widen, and beneath his mask, it would seem his mouth is wide open. "No… way." He pops up to his feet, then leans to the side with a hand outstretched, as if he's gonna lean on something in order to look all cool. "Helloooooo gorgeous," he says. "Didn't know you knew Cypress Hwooop!"
There is no outcropping. Deadpool leans too far and suddenly falls over on his side, ingloriously.
"Duuude, you gotta be careful," Gwen calls out, diving but not making it by the time he hits the roof. Instead, she lands on his chest. "I don't wanna spend our second date watching you knit back together, too. I just came to see how you were doing. And the kid, y'know. See how you're both doing. In your….own respective…she gestures vaguely until she's lost her train of thought, then starts to push herself up off of Deadpool.
Fortunately there's a Deadpool to break her fall, but it's followed by a meaty grunt. "This is your idea of a date?" he asks. "I was thinking, dinner first, rolling around on rooftops later?" It's hard to tell just whether he's joking along, or serious. It isn't until Gwen gets up that he pushes himself up, and dusts himself off a bit, as best he can. He turns himself around, trying to see everything, before just putting his butt there to be seen. "I got it dirty, didn't I?" He tries dusting it off for a moment. "Red spandex is such a pain in the laundry!"
The masked vigilante shoos off her concern before turning around to eyeball the hostel. "Oh, I'm fiiiiine. Been through worse. And I've got a stack of fun money now, that your webhead friend refuses to take any of. By the way." He turns back around and stage whispers to Gwen, "I'm gonna throw a HUGE party at Sister Margaret's and you're invited, Spider-Chica."
"Oooh neat! Sounds like a fantastic time!" Gwen grins and moves up beside Deadpool to look over the edge of the rooftop. "Yeah you got it dirty," she replies with a grin, ignoring the date question for now. "And I guess it's your money, you should do whatever ya want with it. If that's a party, then awesome!"
"I always get it dirty," Deadpool answers, sounding a bit upset about that, but it's short lived. "The kid's doing alright. Keeping my distance. They don't know Deadpool, just the weirdo that brought their kid back. Just glad they're in the city, where we can keep an eye on them." For the moment, he actually sounds serious, as if he actually cares about the kid and isn't just interested in finding the tattooed cult people in order to put the pain on the lot of them.
"Rough place, Sister Margaret's," he sidebars.
"Anyplace called Sister Margaret's is bound to be rough, to live up to a name like that," Spiderchick deadpans. "I heard you guys went after Snakeguy after the unfortunate incident…I got held up by a holdup, couldn't make it if I tried. And I tried!" She tilts her head, watching the hostel for a minute or two. "So…why are they here instead of back home? Witness protection?"
"Turns out the little bastard is one tough cookie," Deadpool offers. "He got away." As for the kid and the family, that prompts Deadpool to turn back around and face Spider-Gwen. "Well, the Okie Dickheads up in whatever-the-fuck county didn't take it too seriously, so, I told the family they could get witness protection here, but, like idiots, they didn't want it." He pauses. "So, I pulled a gun on 'em and told 'em to trust me on this one, or I'd take Brian right back to snake-douche." Another pause. "Whaddaya know?" His voice rises and he claps his hands together in a. joyous manner. "It worked!"
"Oh my dear Lord," Gwen utters under her breath. "Well yeah I suppose that'd work. Little unorthodox, I guess. But maybe it'll keep the kid from ending up in the wrong hands again." She looks at Deadpool for a long moment before turning her gaze back down toward the hostel. "And are we here watching them and getting your butt dirty to keep an eye on them, or to keep an eye out for Snakedouche?"
"Well I wasn't actually gonna shoot them!" Deadpool defends. "But I really didn't want to re-kidnap the kid for his own safety. Besides, I am not a babysitter."
As for why they're there… Deadpool also turns around, before plopping down on the spot at the edge of the roof, dangling his feet again. "Both. At least until I can come up with a better plan." He reaches over to detach two beers, and tosses one Gwen's way before cracking open one for himself.
Gwen catches the beer and sets it down beside the spot she sinks down to occupy beside Deadpool. "Well, unorthodox or not, it works. Long as it serves it's intended purpose, it's a good plan, I say." She shrugs. "If I didn't know better I'd think you had a soft spot for these guys. Especially if you weren't actually gonna shoot 'em."
Still swinging his legs, Deadpool lifts the beer and decidedly drinks it right through the fabric of his mask, without lifting it. It leaves a little damp spot, but he doesn't seem to mind. "I only shoot people who deserve it," he tells her, proving that not only does he indeed have a moral compass, but that it's also likely tuned a bit differently from most others. "I have a soft spot for the kid. Plenty of hard spots for the others."
He stops then, turns to look Gwen's way, then back at the hostel. "Bad Deadpool," might barely be heard under his breath.
SpiderGwen giggles at Deadpool's commentary, swinging her own feet, crossed at the ankles, over the edge of the rooftop. "So do we have an endgame planned here? I mean there's gotta be some way to stop Jake the Snake, so they can return home. We have any more leads on that guy?"
"You know, I'm… not much for plans," Deadpool admits. "I mean," he laughs, "half of this whole thing was just looking for an excuse to sit on a rooftop and drink." He then shakes a hand, suggesting that he's joking, before taking another drink through the mask. "I usually don't make partnerships," he tells Gwen. "Kind of a solo kinda guy. Only reason I'm working with your boyfriend in tights is because he's got a bounty bigger than the state of Idaho, and I really don't want some asshat to collect on it."
He glances Gwen's way then, white eyeholes narrowed a bit. "I was gonna go with 'Handy Solo' but Disney threatened legal action, and 'Captain Deadpool' sounded super corny."
"Oh Spidey's not my boyfriend. I,ve just run into him a few times. He helped me out, got me in touch with somebody who could help me with an issue I had with my web spinners. Seems like a good guy, though. Always super friendly and helpful. And better at what he does than I am yet." At this, she pauses. "But I'm not here to encroach on your territory. I just came to check up on things. Make sure you were all mended and that sorta thing."
Narrowed eyeholes rise, one higher than the other, at the admission that the only two Spider-People he knows aren't a thing. "You know," he he says, and shifts his eyes from Gwen's masked face to the web spinners. "I could find a way to pay for a pair of those. If, you know." He seems meek about this. "Ya ever had a spare pair."
At mention of his territory though, Deadpool laughs, and reaches out a hand to rest briefly upon Gwen's forearm. "Spider-Babe, I don't have territory. And I can grow anything back. Sprouted an entire body once after getting decapitated." A pause, and his hands suddenly begin to work at each other. "Never found out what happened to that old body though," he mutters. "I miss that one, sometimes."
Gwen frets at her bottom lip, not that he can see it, as Deadpool talks about that old body. "So…do you even age, under there?" she asks, gesturing to his mask. "Are you…like 753 years old under there? If you grow a whole new body, is it all young or is it like 753 years old again, too?" Curiosity's good enough for a cat…it's good enough for Spidergwen, too.
"No clue," Wade answers, truthfully. "But it ain't what you'd expect." Now staring off at the hostel, he lifts the beer and gulps a bit through the mask, two swigs that leaves a larger damp spot on his face and down onto the chin. "You've seen Star Wars, right? Remember the Emperor?"
"I remember. That whatcha look like?" Spidergwen asks, staring at him with wide white eye lenses. "That's soooo weird, cause I look EXACTLY like that." Her smile is audible in her voice, as she leans over to nudge him with her shoulder. "Besides, people get too wrapped up in looks and all that..
"Now witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational battle station!" Deadpool does his best Emperor Palpatine, before laughing. "Like a grapefruit got together with an even angrier grapefruit and fucked away all their relationship problems," he says. "Seriously."
He considers Spidergwen for a moment, recalling that she didn't toss her cookies when he blew himself in half. So, up comes a hand, and up comes the mask, revealing a horribly disfigured face that's both too fat and too skinny at once, with sinewy lines that look as if someone put his head into a meat grinder and let it all heal without any plastic surgery. "Boo!"
Gwen tilts her head, her gaze leveled on him as he lifts the mask. Miniscule movements of her hooded mask indicate that she's examining, taking it all in. And one petite, gloved hand lifts as she attempts to touch his cheek with one finger, to trace a line. Touch a furrow. If he lets her.
"I see no Emperor Palpatine here. That guy had HORRIBLE teeth." Gwen's smile, again audible in her voice, doesn't seem to waver. "See, you worry bout nothin'. The really cool stuff ' still there. In expressions. In the eyes. Y'know?"
Deadpool is halfway through lowering the mask again, but he doesn't stop Gwen from touching his face. It does prevent whatever expression comes to his eyes. "Yes, but he could shoot lighting from his fingers," Wade answers, as if this would be far cooler than his own hyper-exaggerated healing potential. "Never said I was worried," he offers. "Not about me." He then makes a high pitched voice and says, in a sing-song tone with a faux British accent, "It isn't ugly on the inside!"
"Ye make a right good point, Gov'nah." Gwen replies, withdrawing her touch to let him put on his mask again. "Besides, I happen to like grapefruit." Without fanfare, Spidergwen does what she swore she never would. She reaches up, standing and moving out of the line of sight of the hostel below, and she rips off her mask with a little pirouette and a bow. It isn't likely she's recognizable, she figures. Blonde hair is shaken out and blows in the wind, but it's slightly damp, and crinkled in places from being in the hood. Her photoshoots are all fancied up Gwen with jewels and updos, and makeup. Here…well, here, she's just Gwen. Spidergwen. "Tadaaa. One good turn deserves another."
Turning, Wade watches and laughs, leaving the mask just curled up below his nose so that he isn't drinking or talking through beer soaked spandex anymore. "Next time I de-mask myself? I'm doing it like that," he promises. "I'll even get myself a really good wig, cause apparently the experiment not only made me look like a testicle with teeth, it removed all the hair from my body." He stage whispers, "Which means dingleberries are never a problem for ole Deadpool." It's worth noting though that he hasn't looked away. In fact, a part of him seems to be staring.
Bad Deadpool?
Gwen pauses for as long as it takes to rub her nose, scratching it against the palm of her hand, and leaving her nose pink from the effort. "OMYGOD my nose itches while I'm in there. It's like the second I can't reach it, TIME TO ITCH!" She grins and sniffles. "And you DEFINITELY need to do it like that next time. I'll set ya up with a wig…a really GOOD wig. Cause I know people." She smiles and slips over to sit cross-legged next to Deadpool again, but this time far enough back that she can only see the roof of the Hostel while she is airing her hair. "So hey…no shaving, either. Right?" Anything to doff the dingleberry image.
Practicing, Deadpool lifts the mask off his head entirely, twirling it around a bit while letting loose a nice, "Whoo hoo!" The mask gets shoved between his belt and costume, and beneath the ugliness there is a twinkle of good humor to his eyes. "Never. Which, come to think of it? Kind of a nice perk." He slips back away from the edge of the roof as well, no longer dangling his feet, and instead leans back upon an arm with beer in hand. "I want the wig to be full on drag queen material. It's gotta be big, bold, and bountiful. I might even put on makeup." He laughs aloud, saying, "You wanna talk about distracting the bad guys, it's gotta be a lot better than smuggling a grenade where it really shouldn't be going for anything-" He pauses to poke a finger at Gwen's shoulder, "- but fun times."
A pause. "I really shoulda thought that one through. I only wish I could've seen the look on Spideypants' face!"
Gwen giggles. "Yeah please don't blow yourself up on my watch, again. I couldn't see Spidey's face either…I was dangling from a web at that point." She looks down at her wrist and tilts her head thoughtfully as she fidgets with it. "I bet we could /totally/ arrange for you to get a web-spinner or two. And a drag queen wig. But I'd advise against the makeup. Everybody knows wearing too much makeup makes you look older." She tenses and giggles, however, when he pokes her. "But talk about your element of surprise…NOBODY expects Dragpool."
"Might help me to actually look my age, you know," Wade answers. "Or make me look younger? Who knows!" However, when she drops that last line, he turns to look at Gwen with eyes wide and mouth ajar. "Dr…" he starts to say, before reaching out and grabbing for both of Gwen's hands. "That… is the most… brilliant thing I've ever heard!"
Behind those eyes are swimming no shortage of horrible yet amazing ideas.
Gwen, her blue eyes brightly infected with his enthusiasm, bounces gleefully. "Ohhh okaaaay…but if you MUST have the makeup, you hafta let me put it on you. You'll look SOOOO so so so sexy. They won't know whether to run in fear or slide up next to you and buy ya a drink."
"Deal," Wade answers, before letting go and collapsing back on his arms, now firmly laying down on the rooftop so that he can stare up at the sky, littered as it is with so much light pollution. "Dragpool," he whispers, smiling. "Now that's a fucking franchise right there."
Gwen, leaning back, too, lays her head on the roof and frowns. "Can't even see the stars from out here, y'know. The sky's all shrouded by the lights on the ground, and it just …poof! Makes em disappear." She goes quiet for a moment, as if thinking something of grave importance about the environment, and the catastrophic destruction thereof, before she speaks again.
"Whaddya miss most about that old body?"
"That was one nice thing about Afghanistan," Wade admits, his eyes on the sky. When asked about his old body, however, his visage falters for a moment or two. There is a long silence, but eventually the corner of his mouth lifts. "Vanessa," he tells Gwen. "Oh she's long gone, Spider-Gal. Long gone. But, she knew that body. Guess I wouldn't ever really want it back, 'cause she isn't coming back. People don't come back from the dead."
Gwen's expression falls, too, as she rolls up onto one elbow and looks down at Wade. Her eyes are darker. Solemn. "I'm sorry," she offers softly. "I didn't know. She was pretty awesome, though, if she got past all /your/ walls. I bet that wasn't an easy feat."
"Oh, she's the reason for all of this," Wade tells Gwen. He gestures toward his face, indicatively, before turning to look at the younger heroine. "I don't need pity, or empathy," he tells her. "I saved her from God knows what. She did the same for me. I got the short end of the stick; I'll probably live forever. She doesn't have to deal with all that." His eyes narrow just a bit then, and he turns away. "I'm no hero, Spider-Woman. That's not my game. It's like I said, I only kill people who deserve it… if I don't, more people just end up like Vanessa."
"I get it. But it still doesn't mean it doesn't suck to live thinkin' that way about stuff," Gwen concedes. "And ya don't have to call me that, unless ya want to. I'm Gwen." She lets her watchful gaze linger a little while on Wade, before rolling onto her back again. "If you go full on Dragpool, we have to work out a show. I'll be a singer. Or a drummer. Or both. Maybe we can dance. And there'll be unicorns."
For once, it's nice to not have some cape (or in this case, hood) talking down to him about his methods. Wade looks again over toward Gwen, and grins. "Gwen, huh?" he says. "That's a nice name. Secret's safe with me." He crosses his heart with his pinkies, before making a heart shape with his hand, before flopping back to stare at the sky. "Missy Elliot. Or Britney Spears. That is what I'll dance to." A laugh. "And there's always room for unicorns."
"SOOO fantastic." Gwen grins and looks over at Wade. "Hard to believe you just blew up your butt like a few days ago. And now here I am chatting you up like it is nothin, huh?"
Wade turns on his side so that he's facing Gwen, his head supported by a half cocked arm and one of his legs perched up while the other one is lying down on the rooftop. "Maybe for you," he says. "I don't hurt the same way either," he explains. "Kinda changes your idea of, ya know, not just danger but how things hurt. Or don't hurt." He shrugs. "Promise you this, Gwen, it won't be the last time."
"It /doesn't/ hurt the same??" Gwen scoots a little, propping herself up on an elbow, too, so that the two are face to face. Conspiratory. Or slumber-partyish. One of those. "My healing factor's nowhere near yours, but it still hurts the same if I get whammied." She pulls aside the neck of her suit to show him her own wound. "I mean, you just got ripped in half and I got this." The gunshot wound is healing. The bones are set again….and healing. But the wound still looks angry and red. "And it hurt so bad I nearly cried. Would have, too, if not for the fact that I'd have looked like such a wuss next to you."
Totally both. Wade's been part of more than a few verrrrry conspiratorial slumber parties after all. "Far as I can figure, when they… when it happened, it either changed my nerves, or all the, you know, injuries and healing have just fried them." He taps his temple. "Can't really remember. But, then again, I've had my brains blown out more times than I can count, and even they grow back." He looks at her wound for a moment, then considers showing her his own, but, well, the whole one piece thing would make that difficult. So, instead, he pats his midsection heartily. "Good as new."
"Well that's just crazy. But I'm glad. Cause wow, I can't even imagine how much that would have hurt otherwise." She narrows her eyes for a moment in thought. "Wait…how do you know that your old body didn't just grow a new head? I mean, it could be running around out there somewhere being you. Only not you. It might have a goatee." A pause. "Nah, nevermind. No shaving. Well, if that wasn't the last time, as you PROMISED…at least we know there won't be dingleberry shrapnel to worry about."
The thought of it has Wade smirking. "You don't think I've thought of that?" he asks. "I have no idea. I guess anything's possible. Maybe there's another me running around out there but, you know, instead of the hired gun thing he's…. selling life insurance." He waggles his eyebrows- well, his eyelumps. "It sounds like you're almost daring me to do it again." He laughs. "One hell of a distraction, innit?"
Gwen shakes her head emphatically. "It was a hell of a deistraction, but no…no, I don't really want you to do it again. I mean, apart from what happens if I'm not there to pull you together next time…I just finally got all of you out of my suit. If you go spattering all over it again, it might just be done for. I'd have to make a new one."
Wade opens his mouth, then closes it. He opens it again, then glances off with a helpless expression. Back to Gwen he looks and it just comes out. "You're probably gonna need another suit." He just can't help it; the tone of his voice has suddenly become suggestive. It's like dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit.
Bad Deadpool.
"I mean, I always have at least three backups." He bends a leg and lightly kicks at her foot with his own. "What is this, amateur hour?" There's a chance he's actually trying to backpedal!
Gwen gives an exaggerated sigh and nods resignedly. "Right…Well I have a new one under construction, anyway, I guess. I had to sew up the bullet hole on this one, anyway. I can use the new one for fancy days, right?" Nevermind that it will look exactly like this one. "Then you can just g" she pauses, diverts course. "You can p" Nope, not safe either. She grins impishly. "At least I'll be prepared…"
With every misfire, Wade seems to be enjoying himself even more. He's only guessing at what's being censored, and it is clearly very entertaining to him. "Scout's honor," he says, and offers his hand with a pinkie extended for a pinkie swear. "I'll do everything I can not to g.. or p… or, you know, whatever it is you're thinking."
Gwen frets at her lip, narrowing her eyes. But she reaches out and accepts the pinky swear. "I mean, I know you don't always expect it, but if ya know it's comin' just gimme a warning, maybe."
"That's just a common courtesy," Wade replies, eyes glimmering. He squeezes the pinkie swear to secure it, but he doesn't just immediately pull his hand away. It lingers there for just a moment, before he abruptly pulls it away. "Wanna cuddle?" he asks, ditching all of the perceived (even if it is on his side alone) innuendo in favor of just being forward. "Or, ya know, we could be responsible, mask up, and go watch that hostel." He rolls his eyes, as if to suggest that the responsive option is also the boring option. One could almost picture the thought bubble.
Gwen's response would normally be to recoil. Trust no one. But Wade seems to be a whole different species from anyone she's ever known. There's no room for dishonesty when every thought he has just rolls right off his tongue. "Mask up…" Gwen suggests, putting on her own and tucking her wind-tousled, sunny blonde hair into the hood. "Then come keep me warm while we watch…"
At first, Wade seems disappointed. But then he grins, and pulls the mask out from his belt to stretch it over his face and secure it under a stretchy collar. "I like the way you think," he says, before scooting up closer to the edge of the building.
SpiderGwen slides up along in front of Deadpool, where she can get a good view of the hostel below. "See, this is the problem with not wearing a cape. It'd get tangled in my webs for sure…but it gets cold as Hades on these rooftops after dark." She nestles back, little spoon style. "What do you s'pose they're doing down there?"
"For now," Wade agrees. "It'll be hot as Hades up here before you know it. Capes are pretentious anyway, and they really mess with aerodynamics." He makes just enough room for the smaller woman, then wraps his arms around her. You know, for warmth.
"I dunno, probably watching old episodes of Duck Dynasty or Leave It To…" He pauses and beneath the mask is grimacing. "Lassie."
"Egh…Duck Dynasty. You know how many small woodland creatures they probably had living in those beards? Been a long time since I saw Leave it to….Lassie, though. In fact, I can't remember the last time I did." She sighs. "You're warmer than a cape anyway, the aerodynamics notwithstanding. How do I know you aren't old body with a new head Deadpool, anyway?"
"Beaver," Wade corrects. "Lassie was that show ahout the dog? I haven't had cable in a long time." As for his body? He laughs, quietly. "I don't even know, I just trust my gut. It feels like the right one, anyway." As wacked out as Wade Wilson has become, he can't ignore that this? This is a nice change of pace from his usual crazy.
"Right…Beaver…" And her mind is off again. "Well, I guess your head would remember…so yeah…" Gwen seems to accept the explanation, and settles back in. Small groups, singles, and pairs, come and go from the hostel, on occasion, and she watches them, wondering where their life has been that led them there to that hostel. And what it's leading them toward as they go. "I guess they didn't get a chance to tattoo the kid and Warcraft him up, then…How many others might be out there? Are there others we haven't found yet?" Her voice has taken on a dreamy and curious tone, rather than her usual snark.
"No, they did," Wade answers. Odds are Gwen was distracted between webbing in, being the distraction, and then watching Wade explode. "Spidey said there was at least one more." He frowns. "Douchebags like these don't stop at two, so you can bet there are others." Noting the change in her tone, Wade frowns. Good thing she wouldn't be able to see that. His eyes look down at the crown of her mask for a moment, before he wraps his arms a bit tighter around hers. "You okay there, Blondie?"
Gwen nods and replies with a smile in her voice. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just finally getting warm…" She sighs. "There's gotta be a way to find any others. And stop him before he takes more. This guy's gotta fall, one way or another." Then with a more playful tone, she looks back over her shoulder at Deadpool. "Y'know, I didn't take you for a cuddler." He's been through so much…she wonders if emotional pain still feels the same to him, or if it has been numbed, like physical pain.
"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Wade admits. "There's someone I can call, but… the minute I do, he's just gonna harass me about joining his little boy band cult of mutant freedom fighters." There's distinct annoyance in his tone at the whole idea. All the more reason to be thankful for a change of subject, even if it's temporary. "Who doesn't like a good cuddle? I know… psychopaths. Like snake fucker."
With a sigh, he pats Gwen's arm for a moment before moving one of his hands and fishing around in his belt (probably "accidentally" brushing her hip in the process) for a cell phone. "I better make this call before I decide not to."
Gwen shifts a little to let him rummage for whatever he's after, and she looks back to watch him curiously. "Tell 'em I said hi!"
Gwen's heard of the mutants…but hasn't met any (that she knows of). She is, however, suspicious of one man who has superhuman strength, weighs as much as three men his size, and smells of cigars.
"Hey, Metallica, it's Deadpool," Wade says when someone picks up the other line. "I know, I know, don't wet your pants, I do not wanna find out if you rust, but listen, I…." His tone suddenly becomes more earnest. "I need your help with something." A pause, and a male voice can be vaguely heard on the other end. "Fine, Steely Dan. Listen, this is serious. There's this kid, well, kids, I'm pretty sure, being kidnapped by these total freakazoid douchebags. I'll tell you more, but I rescued one of 'em, and I've got them sequestered in a flophouse here in the Bowery. I… I think they'd be safer with you and the Boyz 2 Men fan club up there. Also, Spider-Woman says hi." He grins beneath the mask at Gwen, and moves his left arm monetarily to see if she's ticklish.
The unexpected move makes Gwen squeal and giggle, squirming away from the offending tickles. "Deadpool!!"
Wade relents, but his chest is shuddering as if he's stifling laughter. "That's just it, I don't know. The dude who kidnapped him had these weird glowing tattoos and he could summon ice snakes and he did something to the kid. Changed him. Look, it's not like I carry around a mutant testing kit in my underpants, come on, man." He pauses, then pulls the phone away to say to Gwen, "Omigod. He thinks this is some weird cosplay thing, doesn't know about you yet." Back on the phone. "No, there's a Spider-Woman too."
Gwen frowns at the conversation, and tries to hear the voice on the other end of the line. He doesn't /sound/ familiar, at any rate. "I'll help however I can," she says to Wade in a loud whisper. She's just as invested in this situation as anyone at this point…
The voice on the other end is deep, very manly, and has a Slavic accent to be sure. "Thanks, you're the best, hugs and kisses!" He promptly hangs up the phone, drops it on the rooftop, and resumes wrapping his arms around Gwen for warmth. "Looks like we might be getting company," he tells her.
"You mean here? Is he coming?" Gwen gives a little shiver at the increased warmth. "He's okay with me being around?" She pauses for a second with a little 'Hmm.' And then, "Do you think he can help?"
"Yup," says Wade, "And I think he's bringing friends. Probably woulda said something if he wasn't okay with you being here." As for helping, Wade again grows serious. "I sure as hell hope so."