2019-07-29 - A Twisted Cherry Stem


Betty visit DP for a catch-up.

Log Info:

Storyteller: {$storyteller}
Date: July 29th, 2019
Location: Saint Margaret's

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Theme Song



Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children, despite not advertising, and despite having no visible signage out front beyond that plaque next to the front door, is doing a staggeringly brisk business this night. The haze of cigarette smoke provides an ethereal and smelly aspect to the room that combines with the scent of fresh sawdust poured upon the latest rounds of blood and grossness. People move in the crowd, orders are placed and picked up, and for once Weasel is unable to pay full attention to Wade at the bar.
"And that, sir, is why using Vermont Cheddar in Macaroni and Cheese is not the true choice of the cheese aficionado! You may as well be eating Kraft Dinner is all I'm saying." The man in the red and black suit, the mask partially pulled up so he can drink his rather elaborate boat drink through a straw, gestures with the large glass that's in the shape of a volcano.
"Also baked mac and cheese is superior." He adds emphasis with a thump of a hand upon the bar-top.
Over his shoulder Weasel says, "Nobody is arguing with you, Wade."
"I said good day, sir!" Is Wade's response, though it's not as animated as it might have been some time ago.
"Look, buddy." Weasel leans over the bar and takes a moment to gesture to one of the servers, waving him off angrily. "You going to tell me what's up your ass or are you just going to bleat for a few more hours."
"The uhm, second one. Bleat. Lots of bleating."
"Alright, Wade. Let me get these drinks out."

"One more for me when you're ready." Betty chimes in, motioning toward Weasel but without any desire or need for his instant attention. Slipping up and onto a stool beside Wade, she offers him a wave and kind smile, moving her purse around her side and resting it atop her thighs.

"My mom made the /best/ baked mac back in Philly. Then again, well, we do cheese well so, y'know." She muses, smirking a dimple into her cheek. "How're you doing, Red? Came all this way to see you so I'm glad you're in one piece."

"Bets!" Wade looks over sidelong towards her and his scarred features twist up into a smile that has some warmth to it, though it becomes a quick smirk as it often does. "All this way just for me? I'm flattered."
Then, louder, Deadpool shouts over his shoulder, "Weasel, what is this I'm drinking?"
"It's a Volcano, Wade." Weasel scowls as he tries to fill a few quick beer orders, sliding them down the bar where they slosh into the hands of several rather burly looking men. One of which decides it's a good time to pipe up.
"Fuckin' cunt drink, mate." Which gets a laugh from his buddy.
"Hey! Hey!" Wade says then lets it hang there as Weasel sighs.
"Fuck's sake, Wade." The bartender scowls and when Wade turns away he makes a rather intent face at the guy who spoke up, mouthing the words, 'what the fuck?!'
Then Deadpool finishes up with, "I'll have two." He turns back to Betty.
"So hey, how've you been? Haven't seen you since… yeah. All the things."

Betty Brant keeps her smirk, rolling her eyes and just listening, watching the bar antics. "Don't listen to him, Wade. Only assholes refuse taste over some thinnly valed attempt at masculinity." Giving a shift in her seat and crossing her legs smoothly, she lets one red heel bob casually. Her elbow sets atop the bar and her cheek rests within its palm. The only different thing to notice about Betty would be the thin scar against her throat.

"I've been…ok? Fucked up in the head and just a mess personally. Otherwise, better. I think, yeah…better. How about you? I know we're not friends, well, at least we didn't say so, but I like to think we are. I like to check in on my friends."

"Ohhh that's a can of worms, Brant." Deadpool leans forwards and sluuurps a bit of his drink even as Weasel comes by with two more 'volcanos' which seems to mainly be a mess of vodka with some fruit cocktail cups poured into. Not exactly top shelf either.
"I mean I'm up for it if you are, but friends. Hoo boy. That comes with all sorts of qualifiers, and hurdles, and presumptions. This means if I need to move out of my apartment I just have to pay you in pizza."
He nods solemnly as if it were the most crucial rite of passage.
"C'mon." Deadpool hops off his stool, taking two Volcanos in hand, the third most likely for her as he gestures at it with his shoulder. To the bar at large he announces, "I'm going over here!" He points with a drink, "To share a drink with my FRIEND."
he bar takes no notice of Wade at all. Most likely used to him by now.
"Who is a lady!" He announces again as if proud of that fact.
Again, the bar continues on, the steady burble of the crowd utterly uninterrupted and completely not noticing Deadpool.
And then, somehow satisfied, Wade moves over to the booth and away from the bar.

Betty Brant chuckles. "I'm a reporter, Wade. I'm use to cans, worms, all that stuff." Slipping off her stool, she offers a kind wave to Weasel, even leaving behind a mess of tips before resting the strap of her purse across her torso. She follows Wade and sits where he wishes to, her eyes giving a bounce about the room as he calls out to everyone - getting not a reply in return.

"They love you." She murmurs gently, warm gaze forward and careful of Wade's movements and position. "You know that, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah, psssh, what's not to love?" He says as he sets the drink down. He sprawls in the seat, looking entirely overly casual and extending his combat boots into the aisle next to their seat. "So this just a social call?"
He grabs his volcano and starts to fiddle with the straw, as if trying to find a way to use it that lets him stay so reclined and yet not look too goofy. "Or are you going to tell me who gave you that hickey on your neck?" He gestures with a nod and a slight tilt of his drink to indicate the scar.

"Touche." She takes her seat, positioning herself comfortable and watching as the man in red and black goes about trying to work his straw. She smiles, biting back a giggle. "Social." She agrees, giving a nod and only going wide-eyed once he asks about a hickey. Pulling out a small compact, she flips it open and checks her throat, perhaps looking for an actual splotch of bruised flesh. "Oh," she gets it now, closing up the compressed powder pack and putting it away. "Nothing you need to worry about. He was dealt with, kinda, and if I needed him gone-gone, well, I'd do it myself this time." A smirk, she reaches for one of the drinks, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Besides, like you need more of my money." Even if he never charged her a cent.

"Weeelll, I did see this cute kitchen on HGTV that I was thinking about getting, but no… no, you're right." Wade finally settles attaching a second straw to the first and on balancing the large glass on his chest this lets him recline suuuuper lazily and still sip.
"No offense, Bets. But we don't exactly travel in the same circles and coming down here is not exactly safe."
Though then Wade lifts his voice and shouts to the room, "Even though I am SUPER TOUGH and everyone here is AFRAID OF ME!" He then waits…
Only for a slightly diminished voice to call out from the back room pool area, "Shut up, Wade!"
"See, I project a… a /sphere/ of protection around me at all times. It's called chair-is-ma."

"I know, we might share the same road, we're just walking in different directions. At least now. I'm not afraid of here." She shrugs gently, looking around and exhaling, seeming at peace in the bar. "No offense taken, I know what I look like, how I was when you met me. Things are changing is all."

Rubbing at the nape of her neck, she shrugs and finally takes down a mouthful off the alcohol plus fruitcup in a glass. She pauses long enough to fish out a ruby cherry, chewing it away and swallowing it down.

"Seriously, though, are you doing alright? I, well, want to make sure someone asks you that and means it."

"I've been…" He nibbles at the inside of his cheek and tells her, "A little gassy. Lots of Mexican food." But he can perhaps tell that his answer isn't exactly what she's looking for so he sluuurps a his drink a little more, maintaining that lazy posture.
Only for him to sit up abruptly and put the drink on the tabletop, pushing it aside. "But yeah. Yeah. I'm good." He perhaps surprises himself with the answer, taking a moment to look to the side, then back. "I guess?" He adds for some reason.
"Hey want to see a trick. The secret to seducing any man. You could have /any/ man eating out of the palm of your hand. Easy."
It's not the subtlest of topic changes, the verbal equivalent of click-bait, but perhaps it'll work.

"Wade," she rolls her eyes, eating more of the fruit hunks before drinking back from her glass. Then he answers, honestly. The woman smiles and reaches over, giving his wrist a soft touch and squeeze. The contact is brief, but geniune. "Good." She adds, pulling back and enjoying her drink.

"A trick, huh? Well, I usually don't have trouble seducing men but…fuck it. I'm game."

"Aww shucks," He says and even makes as if to shimmy a little at the sign of affection. But then Deadpool smirks at her admission, "See, now that. THAT. Is a conversational thread worth following." Her particular technique of seduction. "You'll have to tell me, quid pro rogue. Alright? Alright, it's decided."
Wade then leans forwards and pushes his drink into the middle of the table. "You know the whole thing with cherry stems?" He produces one from his bowl and holds it between two fingertips. "Stop me if you already know it."
But unless she does he flips it into the air, "You act all coy, eye contact, eye contact is key. Then you oh so sexysexy eat the cherry and pointedly make a show of eating the stem too. Right?"
It's perhaps a good thing that with his current scarred features he does not go so far as to enact the trick, yet he continues. "And then you produce it and lo and behold, it's tied in a knot. Drives people loopy."
But then from the booth behind them a guy leans over the divider and says to Betty, "It's cuz you have two of them, one you already tied in a knot and hid in your mouth before hand."
But Wade doesn't let that stand, "THANK YOU, FRANKLIN. Thank you. For joining our conversation. Thank you so much."
"No problem DeePee."

"You have one hidden?" Betty blinks, her eyes fluttering as if hearing something surprising. "You mean, you can't do it on your own?" She asks the question to both me, DP and Franklin alike. Finger up, she digs into her glass and slips the fruit into her mouth, sphere gone, eatten away, she rolls her tongue within her mouth before resting it out, knot in place. "Don't trust the trick from some random girl you didn't see do it herself. Lies. You don't what that lie in the bedroom. Nothing worse in life than a sad Beej."

Setting the knot down, she returns to sipping her drink through its straw, watching after DP with and nod of her head. Silent encouragement to continue.

For once Wade is… momentarily speechless as those visors in his mask reflect Betty's features back to her. Behind them he blinks slowly. Blink blink. Balink.
But it's Franklin who breaks the moment by barking a single short sharp, "HAW!" Before he returns back to his seat in the booth behind them.
It's that donkey laugh that shakes Deadpool back to the here and now, as he casually fans himself with one hand and states in the tone of a Southern belle, "Ms. Brant, I do declare."
But then he leans forwards upon the table, elbows digging in and tilts his head, "Alright, I showed you mine, you show me yours. What is the Official Trademarked Betty Brant Seduction Technique?"

"Me?" Her brows knit, posture slouches, and her eyes go distant. She considers something, then something else, all in silence. "I, huh…y'know? I don't know." Sad as it was, she frowns and looks DP's direction. "I don't, um…try, I don't think? I don't know. I'm usually just forward. Say what's on my mind. I can drink a guy under the table, love horrible food and usually make sure to wear red on first dates. Red and stockings with back lines."

Looking down at herself, and her more casual attire, she finishes off her drink and sets the glass aside. "Also depends on the target? Some guys like sweet things, others like dirty things. Seduction shouldn't be one note."

Betty Brant smirks, adding as an after thought, "I'm also ok with anal on a first date."

A short chuff of breath slips from him as Wade gives a choked bit of a laugh then shakes his had, amusement twisting his smile into a wry thing. "Oh and if your current target was let's see…" He turns and considers the room at large, touching a fingertip to the center of his lips as if pondering an imponderable, "That guy!" He points at one of the beefy trucker looking fellows leaning over the pool table, gigantic leather jacket on his back with a strong emphasis on dead creatures and skulls and chains of all sorts.
"No wait, that…" Deadpool starts to pick out someone else, "No no, better idea."
He turns back towards her cocking an eyebrow, "Suppose it's a guy who liked wearing red and black jump suits? Had a penchant for guns and kung fu, maybe also liked nurses and or maids, and or maids wearing nurses outfits?"
There's a pause. "Or vice versa?"

Watching him point out the trucker type, she starts to consider her answer to the Merc with a Mouth. Though, whatever was brewing away in her brain is silenced by his shift in target. Smirking, she shakes her head, giving him an adoring smile before nibbling on her lower lip. "Bring the guns and the outfits. We'll have one each." She giggles and brushes back her hair.

"Careful, Wade. I'm not exactly on the market anymore. Granted, I think I could twist you up real good. All of you."

"Wha, who, me? No no, I was speaking of, alright yes it was me." But he's not exactly intimidated nor displeased as he leans forwards on the table, head tilted to the side though he does pull down his mask for some reason. "Alright I cede your point, you got a good game on ya, Ms. Brant."
That said he does add, "Though I'll be sure to wear my nurse outfit under my suit in your honor. You know, just in case."
Once again he changes the topic as he lifts his chin. "So who's the lucky fella? Does he have a regular schedule? What times of day would you say he's most say… vulnerable to long distance gun fire?" She can see his oh so innocent smile blossom under the mask by shifting its contours subtly.

"Damn right." She smirks, dusting off her shoulder in a show of some known power. "Aww, just for me? It's my turn to be honored. Thank you, Wade." A wink, she listens to him roll on, her head shaking before giving a tsk. "Eddie," she answers, however. "Friend of mine from forever and a day. He's pretty strong, though, so I wouldn't under-estimate him." Then, with a gloss of seriousness, she looks him dead in the eyes-shields. "Please do not shoot my boyfriend, Wade."

As she feels she /has/ to say that last bit he draws in a biiig long breath and then exhales a loud sigh, by actually saying the word, "Siiiigh." He crinkles his nose at her and slips his hands off the table to rest them in his lap as he tell sher, "Sure sure, I totally promise."
And, most likely her eyes will follow the movement of his hands beneath the table which he undoubtedly takes as a direct accusation. "Ok ok, fine." He holds up both hands that have four sets of fingers crossed and pointedly uncrosses them.
"I, Wade Wilson, promise to you, Betty Brant, that I will not shoot your current boyfriend for the time being until said time as you should approve of said action. I will not engineer nor facilitate a situation in which I could reasonably be expected to open fire upon said individual in the pursuit of some other individual. Nor will I substitute some alternate form of violence in an effort to circumvent the intent of such agreement."
Then, as a caveat he adds, "This agreement extends into space as well as other outworldly environs."
Once he's said that, all as if he's had to make a sort of statement like that before he affixes her with his oh so tired and put upon gaze and asks her, "There, are you happy?"

"That's….very sweet of you." She answers, a touch of surprise in her voice. Hand out, she offers it to him for a shake. "Thank you very much." A smile, she pulls her hand back when allowed to. "I'll still catch up with you, y'know. If you want." A pause, "And if you need a place to lay low, it's the best I can do to thank you and offer back your way."

His shake is a good business like two shakes and done shake, but when she makes that offer he waves it off. "What? Nah. I'm good for now. I got a few places, and a few people I know. I'm sorta… working this thing." He starts to say but then adds, "I'll let you know when it's done and then you can tell me how awesome I am and we'll laugh and laugh." He says that last wistfully and affectedly, as if out of the scene of a movie.
"Anyways! What else is going on? Did you bring me a present?" He asks out of nowhere, as if that was such an expectation.

"I'd offer to patch you up but you don't need that, do you?" She was never clear on that part of his abilities. The offers is there, though, her visage soft and receptive, that look in her eyes sincere. At length, she just smiles and nods, allowing the offer to die.
"I did." She says without hesitation. Digging into her bag, she pulls out a clip of cash. "I-I know you didn't let me pay you for what you did to me. Can't be much of a merc without pay, right? So, here…everything I owe you and the girl that was with you. I'm still pissed you didn't let me finish the job, but…I understand why."

"Ohmigod that's so gauche." Wade says mock haughtily as he quickly covers her hands with his own, looking to the sides as if to make sure other folks didn't see the quick attempt at exchange. The fingers of his gloves curl over hers and he gives a gentle squeeze that might be a hint at a small touch of humanity before he says.
"Cash, how vulgar." Again that tone, as if chiding her. But then he lifts his voice as if addressing the room,
"There there, my dear! Stiff upper lip. You shall somehow endure without me!" Then back to the normal voice as he leans closer to tell her, "It's ok, Bets. Look."
His hands hold hers firmly for a moment, making sure she has hers closed over that money and then gently pushes it back and away to her. "But I don't often get a chance to do something that's… not entirely horrible. So stop pushing me on this." He holds up a fingertip, "Or else," said in that sing-song tone of voice that might be a threat but might not be too.

Betty Brant stares. She inhales and exhales heavily, annoyed, flustered perhaps, at the exchange failure. Her lips thin and fill back out naturally, she keeps watch over his masked face, trying to read something that was much easier to do without a cover. At length, she nods, dragging her hands back, money in hand, and slipping it into her bag.

"I just want to do something for you. Something that expresses how grateful I am. I-how can I do that? For you?"

"Hey," Wade tries to catch her eyes, though it's hard without his irises showing. But she can likely read the body language as he ducks down a little and leans forwards, seeking that gaze. "How about this? Maybe some time down the line I'll need a favor? I'll show up at like…"
Lifting his hands Deadpool spreads them wide, "At like /the/ worst possible time. And I'll ask you for something completely insane. And you have to promise to totally give it to me. No questions asked. Alright?"
For a time he keeps looking at her, steadily… watching. And then sloooowly reaching for his drink while maintaining that illusion of eye contact, slipping the straw under his mask so he can sluuuuurp while still trying to keep that serious long look.
But then it's disspelled when he murmurs, "Or hey, could make me something to eat. Mexican food. Wings? I'm easy."

"Ok." She agrees instantly. "To both." Dragging a napkin her way, she pulls a pen from her bag and scribbles something down. "I don't remember if you have my number, but here. Call me anytime and let me know when you want to stop by for dinner, ok?" Setting the napkin closer to him, she puts the pin away and smiles tenderly.

"She knows not what she asks," Wade says pointedly, as if in answer to something, but then he gives her a quick nod. "Alright alright." His tone shifts to a faux-grumpy thing as he adds, "Tired of seein' yer face, go on get outta here." He pockets the number on the napkin in one of his many… many many pouches.
Of course when he tells her to leave he gets up as well, leaving his drink on the table. "I'll walk you to your… car?" He eyes her, "Motorcycle? Object of conveyance?"

Betty Brant moves and smirks, following with him toward the door, and exit, of the merc bar. By the door, she turns and gives him a firm hug, careful of the weaponry. Kissing his masked cheek, she boops his nose and then slips out. "Catch you later, Wade."

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