Who: Charlie ultimaverum and Wade mouthiness What: Coping mechanisms When: Today, middle of the night when no one should be up B( Deadpool… Where: Room 1207, then the lobby Rating: PG…?
Deadpool was in the lobby for one simple reason: He wanted to be alone but he didn't want to be in his room. He loved his room, really, he did. It was bigger than his apartment back home and it was free. Right now, it just didn't feel right. Just in July he, Q, and Rory had been watching movies in his room. And now.... Well, best not to think about now.
Which is what he was trying to do, laying upside down on the couch with his legs hooked over the back. His mask was pushed up and he was not so happily drinking beer. At least all the blood rushing to his head made it harder to think. Even if it really felt like it should have worked. More blood to the head should help you think...
He catches sight of someone out of the corner of his eye, turning his head to look at whoever it was. The face is different but the fedora is a dead give away.
"Q if that's you I'm going to steal that hat" Seriously, how many does that guy own?
There were... a great number of things he would have liked to say, upon hearing that particular voice. None of them were particularly nice.
He ended up settling for squeaking to a halt, pulling the brim of the hat a little lower, and scowling. It didn't take much more then a second of that to decide Jack Dodge probably didn't scowl very often. But really... Deadpool was the last person he wanted to talk to right now, particularly when he remembered the man's insistence on following him the first time he'd tried to leave. Before he could concern himself too much with that though, he began to walk again, continuing towards the door with little more then a mumbled, "You already have too many of my hats, Wade." Trying to cut the conversation short...
With much less of his normal grace Deadpool flips over, landing on his ass instead of his feet. That six pack he's got on the floor isn't his first. But it's Q, so he's ok with letting that little slip of skill show.
"Oof. That floor got there quicker than normal. Wonder why that was?"
Using the couch as a crutch, he hauls himself up. "So where are you headed off to?"
He couldn't help but sigh faintly at that. Of course Wade was drinking... Not that he could really blame him. It's not like his version of coping with this was any better then Deadpool drinking himself unconscious. Not like it did any less damage.
Not for the first time he wondered if he should tell anyone he was leaving, and not for the first time, he decided against it.
"Just going for a walk. Why aren't you in your room?"
Like he believes that. Even drunk he can see through what a stupid lie that was. Normally, he'd joke with Q about boy scouts until he could get the truth out of him. Today is not a normal day.
Sigh. "I'm going into town for a few days. That's all." Though his conscious is quick to remind him he's lying, that it'll be longer then a a few days. Much longer if he has any say in the matter.
"Don't worry about it." He waves a hand at him, brushing away whatever concern or... anger he might have at the suggestion. "You should get some sleep."
This answer takes a little longer, his eyes losing focus just slightly as he glances off to one side. Only for a moment...
Then he shakes his head, meeting Wade's eyes... defiantly almost, even if his words and his tone aren't. "Walter and I... were renting that little apartment. In the Arts District. I'll stay there." Neglecting the first question, oh yes.
Oh... there were... things he needed to tell him, weren't there... He paused a moment, wondering if maybe he should just... come out with it right here and now, but... no. No, not right now. Definitely... maybe later.
"I guess... it's an office really. The one... that was going to be the detective agency...?" A vague gesture. "There's a cot in the back though, just in case." And really, the past few months had seen it used more as a place to escape the castle, then an office so... it wasn't as if he was changing its purpose all that much.
Which is what he was trying to do, laying upside down on the couch with his legs hooked over the back. His mask was pushed up and he was not so happily drinking beer. At least all the blood rushing to his head made it harder to think. Even if it really felt like it should have worked. More blood to the head should help you think...
He catches sight of someone out of the corner of his eye, turning his head to look at whoever it was. The face is different but the fedora is a dead give away.
"Q if that's you I'm going to steal that hat" Seriously, how many does that guy own?
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He ended up settling for squeaking to a halt, pulling the brim of the hat a little lower, and scowling. It didn't take much more then a second of that to decide Jack Dodge probably didn't scowl very often. But really... Deadpool was the last person he wanted to talk to right now, particularly when he remembered the man's insistence on following him the first time he'd tried to leave. Before he could concern himself too much with that though, he began to walk again, continuing towards the door with little more then a mumbled, "You already have too many of my hats, Wade." Trying to cut the conversation short...
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"Oof. That floor got there quicker than normal. Wonder why that was?"
Using the couch as a crutch, he hauls himself up. "So where are you headed off to?"
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Not for the first time he wondered if he should tell anyone he was leaving, and not for the first time, he decided against it.
"Just going for a walk. Why aren't you in your room?"
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"Taking your duffel bag out with you? Must be a hell of a walk."
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"Well you never know. Always be prepared, as they say..."
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"Bullshit. What are you doing?"
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"Don't worry about it." He waves a hand at him, brushing away whatever concern or... anger he might have at the suggestion. "You should get some sleep."
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"How long is 'a few days'? where the hell are you even going to stay at out there?"
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Then he shakes his head, meeting Wade's eyes... defiantly almost, even if his words and his tone aren't. "Walter and I... were renting that little apartment. In the Arts District. I'll stay there." Neglecting the first question, oh yes.
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"An apartment? Why were you two renting an apartment?" See, now he's suspicious. This is the first he's heard of an apartment in the city.
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"I guess... it's an office really. The one... that was going to be the detective agency...?" A vague gesture. "There's a cot in the back though, just in case." And really, the past few months had seen it used more as a place to escape the castle, then an office so... it wasn't as if he was changing its purpose all that much.
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