2013.07.22 - A Time for Action

It was true. Domino was pretty worn out. She didn't put up (too much of) a fight when hauled (teleported) to bed (against her desire.) Once there she let the weariness and a sufficient amount of bourbon do its trick and send her off to another dark, heavy sleep.

When she wakes up the sun's already nearing the horizon.

There's also something furry resting against her stomach. (I don't remember Kurt having a cat on this boat...)

A quick glance down reveals a three-fingered hand sitting there, along with a blue leg, and a tangled mass of tail, further down. He hadn't been kidding about 'watching over her' while she rested. There's just..one..problem.

(I really need to pee.)

Dom carefully attempts to extract herself, rewarded with a subconscious coiling of that whip-like tail. She hesitates, sighs, then flops back down.

(There's a way out of this.)

She calls forth everything that she knows about Kurt and quickly forms her next plan of action. It's simple, direct, and has a ninety-eight percent chance of working exactly as she intends it to.

"Kitchen Fire!"

Kurt watched, and he guarded her sleep, those pointed ears so attuned to the sounds of the night, those gold, glowing eyes one of the few things that lights the room. In the early hours of the morning, after the moon set, it's the darkest before the sun's rise, and he's finally asleep, content.

The shifting of Domino under and around him does earn the tightening of his tail, the little 'suction cups' on his hands gripping ever so gently upon her pale, bare midriff.

It's an unconscious action, really, born out of the enjoyment of contact and continued contact. The alarm that is raised, however, that brings the blue fuzzy elf fully awake.. after a fashion. Glowing yellow eyes fly open, though he's not really focussed on anything, his entire body stiffens, and in the next second, there is the residual stench of brimstone left in his wake as the all-too-familiar sound of *bamf* is heard, once.. and twice, upon landing.

"What?! What?!.."

And slowly, blinking unfocussed eyes in an attempt to actually see, Kurt is twisting around, searching..

"Where?!"

Hold on..

No smoke...

-Bamf!-

"And it's done like that," Domino quietly says around a thin smirk to a now empty room. Yawning broadly in silence she lazily rolls herself out of bed and toes her way into the bathroom, listening to the sounds of a frantic teleporter leaping about the inside of his own boat.

She's going to get an ear-full for this one. Good thing she's already got a dozen comebacks all lined up at the door. Armed and ready, gun or no gun. Before he gets the chance she calls out "Oh, did my alarm clock wake you?"

This gal keeps company with the likes of Deadpool, of course she's got a twisted sense of humor!

A twisted sense of humor, and a relieved bladder. (Worth it.)

Now, there are times when knowing another language isn't advantageous. Of course, the best way to learn a language is to learn idioms, and if Domino is lacking in her German curses and creation thereof?

Not anymore.

All of this is followed up with, "Domino!" called from the kitchen.. and *bamf* to the bedroom, calling out again. Where is the 'liebling' this time?

"That was not fair!" Though, truth be told, the elf isn't anywhere near above playing dirty tricks either. It's just the fact he got hit with one.

"It's my -boat-!"

"It's still your boat, and your boat is fine," Domino calls back around the familiar sounds of a flush. In the next moment she steps out, wincing slightly as she rubs at the shoulder she had slept on.

When eye contact is first made it's accompanied with her usual lopsided grin. "Tell me you've never wanted to wind the spring and let 'er go." In this instance she's referring to him. She was playing the odds of the guy bamfing all over the ship rather than running it, which would have been even more hilarious.

Moving to step around Kurt and return to the table full of her guns, she says "Next time let me finish my work."

Like that excuses everything. It does as far as she's concerned, and that's what really matters. Back to business as usual!

It's a rather comical sight- the elf standing and staring at the bathroom door as she emerges, his expression of 'yes, been got!'. He didn't do his impression of a Mexican bamfing bean, however, simply because the kitchen is rather localized. Galley's isn't all that big. But, it did have the desired effect.

"I have wound springs und let them go. But those are at my targets," comes the complaint in the face of that grinning merc, "Bobby isn't quite in the same league." Though, Amanda is..

Kurt shifts to make it a touch more difficult for her to pass him, and his tail whips out to take hold of a wrist. "Your guns need cleaning, ja.. but then liebling? I think you need a break from all this. Whatever it is you're planning, whatever next job comes? Give yourself time, please."

"Are your targets mutants with interesting powers?" Domino nonchalantly counters. "You've been winding up the wrong toys."

She's almost single-minded in getting back to work. Not much is going to interrupt that. A tail around the wrist, that manages to beat the odds. She stops short, passing a quick glance down to her snagged limb before turning back to those yellow eyes.

This isn't the first time she couldn't decide whether to be firm and stand her ground or break down laughing.

Her other hand comes around to try and unwind the tail from its anchor point, though she continues to look at the Blue Bamfer. "I don't sit still well, you know this. I've been in far worse scrapes, I'll be in worse again. And, in case you've forgotten, I was made to keep going."

She can rest when she's dead. Presumably. There's really no telling what might happen at that point. Maybe luck transcends flesh?

Kurt's tail is prehensile, and rather agile. He gets a lot of use out of that particular appendage, much to the delight-- er-- consternation of others. "I do have particular fun on Halloween, though." Not all his targets are mutants then?

Still, those yellow eyes meet the blue, and his tail begins a slow uncoil. "I know. I'm not saying 'relax'. I'm saying 'break'." Nodding to the various and sundry injuries, he reaches out to touch one of the particularly nastier ones gently. "It's an insult I don't like to see. Und when I think that you're lucky to be so injured?"

Taking a deep breath, Kurt knows that it's the wrong tack; it can come off as fussing. Okay, he does fuss, but never has he asked her to simply stop doing what it is she does. Mind, he does ask about the killing, and frequently. But he's more than aware this is her life.

"I know you'll be in worse again, liebling." There it is. He smiles, and the expression comes out a little lopsided. "I just want to see a little bit of a longer time between such things."

Fun on Halloween is something, anyway. Dom's more concerned with getting herself untangled, again, which does seem to be working. "'Relax' and 'break' may as well be the same thing, Blue. What else am I going to do with myself? If I take time off to heal then I'm going to get used to taking time off to heal and it'll be that much more difficult to get back into the action. It's no different than working out, as soon as you break routine it all starts to fall apart."

When he reaches to prod at one of her wounds she doesn't have to look in order to run interference, this time catching his wrist an instant before he can poke at the targeted sore spot.

The smile is returned, in part. Sort of. "And I'd like to see bigger paychecks for my time, we don't always get what we want."

Feeling that she's won this particular argument she tries once again to push through to the galley. (I could always make that fire a reality...)

The tail does finish uncoiling, and slides it lightly across her forearm before he pulls it away completely. "Injuries though, liebling? I couldn't believe you to not want to get back into things, whether it's driving a motorcycle at top speeds or.. or.." Pretty much anything else breakneck.

Still, the elf has a profound respect for her ability, but not the best in understanding, no matter how long he's spent with her and it. His own ability is a whole lot more straightforward. It's just how he applies it that makes things unexpected.

A slow, exhaled breath exits the elf, and he takes the steps towards the galley as well, ready to start work on food. "I would like to see bigger paychecks too."

Naturally, Domino makes a line straight for the table with all of her gear spread out. She's barely sitting upon the bench before reaching out to rearrange her belongings back into proper Mercenary Feng Shui.

"Has Logan ever slowed down?" she asks while reaching for her glass of bourbon and the bottle beside it, left out from hours back.

(Breakfast of champions.)

"I know, 'but Logan has a healing power, liebling, und he can get away with it,'" she automatically replies in an altered tone of voice. "Betcha it hurts him the same as anyone else before the damage is erased. I just get to suffer for longer. It keeps me motivated. On target."

"Do you even get paid these days? Now that you've drifted from Xavier's? There are ways around that, you know."

As luck would have it, here sits someone that happens to be unnervingly good at getting rich quickly.

"Ja, he has. Once in awhile, he takes a vacation. It's not his fault that the bad men catch up to him," Kurt responds as hands begin to open cabinet doors, his tail taking hold of a frying pan. Eggs. Sausage. Hope Domino's hungry.

Turning about in conversation, he catches sight of the grab for the bourbon, and barks out a "Nein, not yet. Get something real first, at least." A pause comes, and a three-fingered hand rises, palm up in theatric supplication. "Humour me, at the very least?"

Then, he's back to working on breakfast; eggs and butter from the refrigerator. Nothing that desperately needs restocking there. The liquour cabinet, however, is most likely another story altogether!

"I.. haven't been paid, nein," Kurt begins slowly again. "What was left from that adventure is all but gone. The boat, und.. two daughters." A smile quirks, and he shrugs without turning around. "Und no.. it's not like that. They are both grown und from two different dimensions. Two where I apparently found 'that special someone', und married." That smile grows to a grin, and he finally looks around, "Two dimensions, two different women."

The consideration of work, however, and being paid brings a nod, and as the butter in the pan sizzles, Kurt's tail sways. "I need work. Amanda's bought a theatre that requires a great deal of reconstruction, und it will eventually become a constant home for me."

"That's not to mention that this research is taking something of a toll on me."

(He does? Well, the guy's gone so often it's kinda hard not to see it as a vacation with occasional moments of going back to work.)

Breakfast at twenty hundred hours. Gotta love it. Right up until Kurt attempts to stay Domino's hand, to which she stares at him with her refilled glass in hand poised inches away from onyx-hued lips. "Really? Kurt, I'm camping out in your boat. You're not my legal guardian." She's just about to slam the first drink when he holds up his own hand and pleads with her once more, resulting in a gruff exhale of breath as she sets the glass back to the table and bats it away with her fingers, sliding it a few inches further away from herself.

In the next moment she's got her forehead buried within both of her palms, fingers splaying through the ragged mass of cropped black hair. "This is not happening..."

It seems as though her luck is taking a vacation, at least.

A moment later it's her turn to hold up an empty hand in protest. "Wait. Two daughters? One of them doesn't have white skin, does she?" Then, voice lowering, she mutters "No, you would have been the first to know about that." Lightly clearing her throat she splays those fingers enough to look back at Kurt, "And yet in this dimension you've got two women and aren't married at all. How does that even work, Mister Christian?"

There's the words. I need work. Dom slowly drops her hands back to the table and glances off to the side, where her phone happens to be sitting upon the table.

Right next to the glass of bourbon.

A quick glance is passed back to Chef Wagner to make sure he's focused on his cooking before she reaches for her glass again. What he doesn't know isn't going to hurt him.

"At least I don't hear, 'You're not my real dad!' when I correct one of them," Kurt teases in direct response to the 'legal guardian' comment. "Nor are we married. Nor have we cohabitated long enough to be considered civil husband und wife."

Domino's query regarding the potential maternity of the daughters in question receives a distinct non-answer, his tones teasing. "Did you know blue seems to be dominant? So are yellow eyes. One has my fur und tail, the other does not."

Eggs are cracked into the pan, and the sizzle sounding carries with it the distinct smell of frying eggs. "I am certain I would be in on the secret, liebling," is given softly before an impish smile relights that blue, fuzzy face. "I spend a great deal of time in confession. Mostly. But it really is difficult to confess something that one simply doesn't wish to repent." He can't help but add, "I am only mutant."

There pops some toast as the eggs are set to 'sunny side up', and sliding them off the pan on that bed of butter, he sets up two plates to carry them the short distance to the table. Those yellow eyes look at the bottle; no fool, he. He was drinking last night too, and he has a good memory. The line is distinctly lower, but he makes no remark about it.

Here, too, Dom's got plenty of excuses and arguments for snitching some of the alcohol. 'It's not even morning! I do this all the time. It helps with hangovers.' Here, the best solution is to say nothing at all and let it ride.

Because seriously now. Kurt's not the boss of her. Even if it is his booze and his boat. And his glassware.

"Your kids will always be easy to spot," she offers as if pointing out a silver lining in all of this. "Kinda surprised that I haven't bumped into either of them yet, but I'm thinking that's a good thing." Go, crazy good fortune! She'd rather not deal with that particular awkwardness. 'Who are you? Why, I'm the odd one out.'

To the matter of having trouble confessing to something Dom mutters a "No kidding" in agreement, smirking once more when he talks about only being mutant. (Usually that's enough.)

When the food arrives she suppresses another distant exhale and rearranges her belongings once more, making room for both of the plates. It's true, she's plenty hungry. Let her appreciation show in the form of a clean plate five minutes from now or less.

Her phone can wait. She still needs to think over what it is that she's considering doing.

"Ja, they will. One even bamfs. I am so proud." And, even with the jest sounding in his tones, he may very well be rather proud of his not-progeny. Still, it is probably best if they and Domino don't meet. Not for any other reason but the 'awkwardness' of it. "At least neither of them are trying to set me up with their respective mothers."

There is that silver lining too!

With the plates set, Kurt hasn't fallen far enough away from the Church not to offer a quick grace over the food before he picks up his fork to stab at the whites, the yellow yolk oozing all over one side of the plate now.

"You had hinted last night, liebling," Kurt mops some of the yellow up with his bread and piles whites on before he bites, chews and swallows, "that perhaps there might be something? Maybe?"

By comparison, Dom's got a forkful halfway off of her own plate before the saying of grace hits. She stops short, silently counts a few seconds off in her mind while Kurt finishes his business, then proceeds forth as soon as he's through.

There are lots of people in this world that don't deserve any such consideration from the albino. This guy is one of the very few that does.

When the next question comes up she passes her icy gaze back over to her phone, yet poised in a hunched over fashion over her plate as though preparing to fend it off from rival scavengers. "There's always more work to be done out there, Blue. The question comes down to 'how dirty do you want your hands to get?'"

With that said she passes the fork to her other hand and reaches for the phone, unlocking the screen. One new message. Curious.

Kurt's head quirks, though he's not surprised at the question. It's more in response to a thought that immediately comes to mind, and it finds voice. "My hands are not clean, liebling. Dirt is different than blood, however." His voice lowers in the admission of something, the voicing of something that is known by the woman that shares much with him. "Though, I do have my share of that as well."

This is not a time for such reflection, however. More and more, the elf is seeing a war brewing, and when Judgement Day comes, he simply hopes that innocents won't count in that number against his soul.

The bread is used to sop up more yolk, and even as it drips, he tries to get under it. Chewing, swallowing, now he reaches for that glass to put a little bourbon in. "I need money, liebling. A steady paycheck from the school is no longer."

"Not the kinda dirt I'm referring to, Kurt," Domino says in something of a warning tone. The phone gets abandoned for a while longer, now worrying about the conversation more than the screen.

"This wouldn't be a milk run, but it can be easy money. The more at stake, the higher profile the contract, the worse the odds are against us, the better the payout. I know better than to hunt down open wetwork with you but there's plenty left on the market. Give the word and I can make it happen," she offers while holding the phone up between two black-on-white fingers.

Not that she's going to sit there like that and wait. Her food's getting cold! The phone gets set aside though she doesn't bother to switch the fork back to her right, she can make do just fine Southpawing it.

The warning tone is noted, but Kurt doesn't seem to be the least bit fazed by it. If anything, it gives him the chance to wipe his bread through what's left of egg on his plate. When the food is completely done, he takes a swallow of the bourbon before setting it back down between them, in the middle of the guns.

He does listen carefully. Each word, each thought is rolled around. This is what he wanted, yes? He's asked to be 'in', and now, in his hour of need, as it were, he's hesitating. Probably because this is the most forthcoming of potentials and possibilities she's been. It's all laid out before him, just like that circle of guns.

"Warum..?" Kurt starts again, his gaze turning curious, if not more than a little pensive as he formulates his next words. "Why do you do this, liebling? Why is this your chosen field? Why did you decide to use your gift in such a way?" He's not being judgemental, he really isn't. Nor does he sound as if he's getting ready to try and convince her to begin a new life doing something else.

They've covered this ground before. Lots of times. Domino could go into her usual argument about why she's involved with this side of the underground lifestyle, why she's good at it, why she's practically scratch-built made for it. They've covered this ground before and she's refusing to do it again. There's only one way left that comes to her mind, one final push to try and get him to understand.

Once more she looks down at her phone, the screen still lit.

One new message.

She picks it back up and taps the screen, quickly reading it over. Some of her earlier smirk starts to return. "I think the good Lady would like to say something here." Without explaining herself any she taps around on the screen then holds it to her ear.

"Crank. Dom. Got your message, what's the deal? Yeah? Huh. Wait--why not?"

Dom pauses, sighing while pinching the bridge of her nose. "Scrawny kid, black hoops through each lobe, 'Lite' tat on the back of the left hand? Really? Oh bullshit, he's gonna get his stupid ass shot out there and you know it. He just doesn't want to pay for his own toys anyway, pull the job. I don't fucking care, take it back, I'm calling dibs. Then I'm pulling rank! Christ, then he can take it up with me, I couldn't care less. That's a five second problem I can solve in two. Yeah--yeah, no shit, forty-eight. I'll call you in thirty."

The phone gets hung up and flicked aside, spinning aross the table as she returns her attention to Kurt in full. Grinning.

"How about I show you?"

Never expressed why she's chosen it. Last time they discussed this, there was a reminder that he was part demon, and that he was made quite differently than he turned out.

Choices make the man.

That's not to say that that darker side doesn't try to come out. It does. There are urges. Desires. Temptations.

Kurt pulls his now clean plate into his hand and rises, ready to take Dom's if it's cleaned off. He's quiet during the call, though he does look over his shoulder as he cleans up, setting dishes to the side to dry once soaped.

Once she is done, and the phone is set off spinning like a proverbial top, Kurt is back to his seat, perching, his tail hanging over the back of his chair. Shining yellow eyes are blinked once, hiding in that blue shadow for a flicker of a second before he's gazing directly at that pale face with the vibrant, almost dancing ice blue eyes, trying to get a hint of what is to come.

The grin, however, can't be ignored, and Kurt's own smile rises as he accepts his inevitable fate. It's a path he'd wished for before. Who said prayers aren't answered? Only caveat, however, is that which is oft quoted. Be careful for what you wish for!

Holding out his hand, Kurt is ready to bamf them out; off the boat and to points known only to she. "Shall we, liebling?"

Dom's grin falters just slightly in the end, there. Not because Kurt agreed to this, that part's all fine and good. It's more to the fact that he's offering to teleport them out now.

Again..normally not a problem. She'd be all too happy to get a head-start on the job. They would save even more time by not having to deal with traffic.

The problem is that she's sitting there in jeans and a sports bra, in need of a hot shower and with half of her guns unloaded and broken down to some extent or another. (Sigh... Detail cleaning will have to wait.)

"I think we should be, if you would have let me finish my work before."

Oops.

Here's proof that Kurt doesn't ogle the albino merc? While he's very aware that she's settled in her spot in bra and jeans, it.. slips his mind. He's graceful enough to look a little sheepish as he realizes the fact that he's a little quick off the mark, as it were.

"I'm sorry, liebling," he begins in apology. "I.. well, not that I would wish the world to see you as I do," is something of a confession. "I can wait." Reaching for one of the guns not yet cleaned, he raises those yellow eyes. "Would you like me to help?"

Does she trust someone else to clean her guns? Would Domino trust someone else to? It would save time, but at the same time she's kinda anal about these things.

Compromise.

She retrieves an oily rag and a brush that's seen better days. "Whatever you can see on the surface, don't try to take them apart."

Maybe if she doesn't see the carbon fouling it won't eat away at her mind so much. She'll be back to this same song and dance as soon as they're done with the next contract, anyway.

"I'll be ready to arm up in ten."

Kurt grins as she passes the rag over, his hand open to retrieve the items. It looks extremely odd in his three-fingered hands; moreso when he picks up the fouled gun. He looks at the weapon briefly, and he pauses, trying to remember the lessons given to him regarding firearms.

Magazine out, slide back, and the elf is ready to put a bore brush down to start cleaning, though he's not anywhere near as neat as she is. Each time the brush comes out, little droplets of cleaner fly, covering his spot at the table with a sheen.

Now, however, as he's working on it, Kurt's tones sound off-hand.. conversational, even. It takes someone who truly knows him, however, to discern that gleam in the already bright yellow eyes.

"I can help you with that too."