|"Rise of the Lun and the 'Pool!"|
|What: Deadpool and Lunair make Helena's and the Phantom's night strange as heck.|
Deadpool looks a bit restless. It's hard to tell, of course, with Deadpool- his mask isn't exactly a gateway to his deepest emotional state. Then again, Deadpool's about as emotionally deep as a mud puddle, so, there's that.
The Merc with the Mouth seems hellbent on finding a new clubhouse to hang out at. Considering he'd busted up the last dive he was at, in NYC, he must be thinking with a bit of prudence to choose a new haunt in Gotham's famous seedy underbelly.
"I don't know if seedy is the word I'd use," Deadpool remarks, to no one but himself. He's sitting in a little corner of the dingy, half-dilapidated building that used to be a fire station. Both feet are propped up and his hands, interlaced behind his head. No one seems much bothered by his casual posture, or willing to bother him. Hung on the wall behind him are several scalps. What looks like a severed hand has been pinned to the wood table by a stupidly oversized bowie knife. Deadpool's been making friends! "Dingy, maybe. I like 'quaint fixer upper', personally."
Hmm. Time to work on these 'social skills'. Lunair has a How to Make Friends and Influence People book tucked into her handbag. She has her hair done up in two neat buns and again,seems horribly out of place - a relic better suited to a green house or tending roses or something far more prim and proper. Maybe it's easier to hunt wolves when you stray off the path, isn't it? Regardless, she has a few things in her bag and looks to be thinking. Where to go? How to shake off the slight gaze in her eyes that makes her look more like the crazy uncle who survived one too many things for his own good and now twitches whenever a car backfires? It's cruel, really. Poor uncles. Either way, she decides to meander into the dingy building, curious. This seems like a peaceful place to get to know things. Carefully, she inches in, peering around the corners and doorway first. Wait, is that a head pinned to the wall? "That is SO unsanitary." Eyebrows lift. Maybe she is working on that OCD thing. "Oh. Hi!"
Walking along just outside the building are an interesting trio--an Italian woman, a man in purple, and--a wolf, of all things. The wolf trails a little bit behind them, nose to the ground or air now and then.
"...officially, I'm supposed to chew you out for that phone call, you know," the Phantom is saying, walking along calmly with his fingers loosely curled into fists. His tone is semi-humorous, though there's no smile on his face. "However, it got him off the streets for a few nights. He's supposed to be released tomorrow morning." That last said with a grimace, making the wolf prick his ears and look up--but then something else catches his attention and he looks over at the abandoned building as the humans pass it, eyes carefully searching the darkness. The two humans don't seem to notice anything amiss within just yet.
Helena Bertinelli hasn't been back in Gotham for several days. It feels ... weird being back. It feels even weirder to be walking through this particularly unsavory section of the Bowery at this time of night. But, despite the weird sensation, she doesn't feel unsafe. That likely has something to do with her companion in purple and possibly also the lupine form following them. She doesn't give the adjacent building so much as a second glance, her attention split between the Phantom and their surroundings. "Tomorrow morning. Damn it. I'd been hoping they'd hold that jerk for longer than that."
"Armory!" Deadpool throws his arms up in the air, hailing Lunair. "No, wait- did you decide on something else? GunGrrl, maybe?" The Merc with the Mouth kicks a chair out for Lunair to take. "Barkeep! Drinks for me and my friend! Or at least, my very favorite psychotic pal!" Like Deadpool can get drunk, ha ha! What gets him buzzed is a lethal dose of Everclear and Gin for a normal human. Only college sorority girls have a higher tolerance for booze.
"Hey, you dig the freak-show in the purple? And who's the broad? She's kinda hot, in that sort of 'I'll wrap your knees behind your skull' sort of way. Reminds me of a few ex-girlfriends I've had." He glances sidelong at Lunair. "What?" he demands, defensively. "I've had girlfriends! Lots of them! Women find me very attractive."
Blink. She doesn't seem to be aware of the man and his dog for now. Lunair is after all, distracted by greeting Deadpool. She smiles faintly and waves back. "Armory was taken..." Sigh. "Umm. I haven't really - figured one out," She looks sheepish. "It'll hit in time. It's just so many good names are taken," She remarks. And then a pause. Psychotic. An eyebrow quirks. Twitch. Oh right. She puts a hand to the side of her face. "I see. Thank you," She smiles politely. "I appreciate it."
There's more blinking as he comments on someone in purple. She turns, to glance over her shoulder. "Umm. Not sure. I don't recognize either of them..." She admits quietly. There's a long pause. "I am sure that they do. Good humor seems popular and um, well, I don't really know you, but I'm sure..." She's also like the guy they tie a sword to and chuck into the arena as far as intergender relationships goes. Pointy end in the other guy. "How are you? And um... Hello..." To the new people.
"Shyster by the name of Moretti got the charges dropped," mutters the Phantom, pressing his lips together for a moment before turning his head to look at Helena. "Insufficient evidence--which was my fault, and I'm sorry for that." A bit of color comes to the man's cheeks; he'd let--no, he helped--the man escape, after all, and because he escaped without injury, because there was no evidence of a crime, he couldn't be held very long.
With his head turned toward Helena, he spots Devil out of the corner of his eye, as the wolf veers off and heads toward the abandoned building, ears staying pricked, nose twitching as he sniffs the air. "Hey, wait," says the Phantom, going to touch Helena's arm lightly. "Devil, where the heck are you going?" Not that the wolf even acts like he heard the man, of course.
Helena Bertinelli shakes her head as if disgusted or deeply disappointed by Phantom's words, then stops when he addresses Devil. "What the...?" She mutters a few choice cuss words under her breath. What a perfect frigging time to be without a visible means to protect herself. You know, like a crossbow. Or something.
"Ugh. PHRASING," Deadpool grimaces. "I don't need a homoerotic decription of naked, sweaty gladiators workin' out their personal issues in the arena. Even if they're all muscley and ripped... sweating in the afternoon sun..." Deadpool coughs into his fist. "Uh, anyway, yeah, You know- that and all. Insert awkward pause." Deadpool pauses, awkwardly. It's made even more awkward by the fact that she's insane and he's just on the coherent side of being sane. At least she doesn't have little yellow text boxes. I swear to Gork and Mork, if you start using text boxes, so help me, SO HELP ME.... At that moment, Devil trots in.
"PUPPY!" Deadpool squeals, like a little girl. If this were anything but a text-based medium, he'd be doing his best impression of a chibi, all wide, sparkly eyes and tiny, tiny body. "Here boy! C'mere! You want a nice, freshly severed hand?" Deadpool unknives the severed limb and, crooning, waggles it back and forth, inviting the wolf to come fetch it.
Blink. "What...?" Lunair lifts her eyebrows. "I am sorry. I missed something. But um. It is an interesting paradox, I guess," She taps her chin. She's only SLIGHTLY twitchy and frankly, given this is Gotham? With guys in green tights lobbing bombs from hang gliders and what have you? She's pretty much Close Enough(TM). "I hope you're doing well, sexual frustrations aside then." See? Polite! Friendly. And - doggie! "Aww. How cute. Kind of fierce looking in a way," She peers at the wolf. She offers a hand for the wolf to sniff, crouching a little. That is, after Deadpool pets him. She'll wait her turn.
Standing in the doorway, Devil cocks his head in curiosity at the crazy people. Ears swivel around for only a moment, homing in on the Phantom and Helena before swiveling around and focusing on Deadpool and Lunair again. When the two hands are offered, he stretches his neck forward to sniff the one still attached to an actual person, while the other gets a curious and hesitant look. It's--a dead hand, and dead things aren't usually good things, especially in a city like this.
"Come on, let's go see what the heck's caught his attention," says the Phantom, keeping his fingertips lightly touching Helena's upper arm. It's a touch of, hopefully, comfort and protection; he knows how he feels when he doesn't have his guns handy, so he can only imagine what it may be like for her. Hopefully he can get her to walk with him in the direction of the house, as Devil lowers his head a little and takes a few tentative steps closer to whatever it is the wolf is staring at. From his vantage, the Phantom can't quite see what it is, though he can hear voices from within the building.
Helena Bertinelli nods to Phantom and looks from him to Devil and back, squinting a bit as her eyes then turn to the doorway that Devil just stepped through. One hand goes to just below her right hip as if out of habit, then moves to reach for something behind her back and under her denim jacket. "This isn't normal for him, is it?" she asks quietly. She can't help but NOT want to see what's inside there. It's like a scene in a horror movie or something.
Deadpool is down on all fours, nose to nose with the wolf. Apparently, he is unaware that animal communications is not one of his super powers. "Animal communication is totally one of my super powers," Deadpool informs Lunair. He sniffs the dog, as the dog sniffs him, and then the both sit back on their haunches.
"Does puppy want his ears petted?" Deadpool reaches forward with one hand, then the other, and gives Devil's ears a good and proper ear scratchin', the way that Timmy used to give Lassie a proper ear skritchin'. Deadpool loves animals! And that noise dogs make when they thump their rear foot when you get that spot just right, that's just like better than candy or your favorite song on the radio.
Deadpool starts making nonsense words at the dog, with lots of babyish vowels and syllables. The dog apparently gets the gist of what Deadpool is saying. Also, ear rubbin'! That's the best for a dog. Also, free food! That's the best for a dog, too! It's all good!
Lunair smiles. She watches the dog and Deadpool now. She stays crouched a bit as he sniffs at her hand. She doesn't seem used to dogs, but is apparently open to the idea of petting one and being around them. "Aw. Thank you," She nods as he sniffs her hand. Friendly! She ohs softly at Deadpool. "Really? That must be very handy." And impressive. She always wondered why squirrels chattered so much. Probably plotting to destroy everything. Or get some nuts. Or trip drunk people. Whatever. She smiles as Deadpool scritches Devil, and will wait her turn. It's adorable and she is watching to see how the wolf reacts. "He seems not to be feral. I wonder where his owner is?"
When the man gets down on all fours, Devil is--surprised. Ears flick forward a bit more as his eyes widen a touch. Still, he can tell the man means no ill intent, so. Then the man is reaching out and--scratching his ears. Okay, this man obviously cannot be a truly bad person if he gives good skritchings. Devil apparently decides thus as he leans right into the touch, arching his neck to help point those skritching fingers right at the good spots. As for Lunair--Devil starts swiveling a little, to let her get to his back. There's all sorts of wolf-real estate to pet and scratch!
"Not really, unless it's something potentially bad, though it--" remarks the Phantom to Helena--then stops mid-sentence when he gets to the doorway and sees that interesting scene. He--actually facepalms. Yep, he actually smacks his hand over his face. "It figures," he mutters to no one in particular, gripping his own face firmly. Part of him wants to laugh, and part of him wants to chew the wolf out. "It just figures that even here and now, you'd find someone to feed your attention-hungry nature." No, he doesn't see the severed hand. He saw the wolf getting his scratchings and pettings and just--yeah.
"Wait, what?" Helena looks at the Phantom then toward Devil again. "Seriously?" She huffs out a faint sigh, then asks equally quietly, "Shouldn't we... I don't know, go in and get him?"
"I bet I've got some Scooby Snacks in my belt!" Deadpool dives into his PoolBelt, which is a lot like the BatBelt, except dirtier, and more likely to have candy wrappers and pre-chewed bubblegum. Also, yay! A Scooby Snack. "Here ya go, boy!" Deadpool breaks it in half and tosses a bit up in the air, to see if Devil can catch it or not. "Are you a stray? A runaway? You wanna join my merry band of psychotic adventurers? We've got this girl, here, and she's almost as crazy as I am. And that's saying something! Can you do crazy? Or just a little unbalanced? Can you walk on your front paws?" Deadpool apparently can't shut up. Ever. But he's got the doggy's rear foot going like crazy.
Aww. Lunair smiles a little and will scritch his back then. She's gentle, petting him carefully. This is clearly novel to her. Very novel. Her hazel eyes peer a little as she does. She seems amused. "That's kind of you." She seems to think it pretty awesome that Deadpool's giving the wolf a treat. She says nothing on the PoolBelt. Who is she to know or judge, really? She listens as Deadpool talks. Pause. "... do I really seem that crazy?" She asks, eyes a little blank. That's worrisome and yet... there's no denying her psyche is dented like a teenager's new sports car run through an obstacle course. Yeow. There's a pause, as someone behind her speaks and she looks over. A man in purple? And his friend? She eyes them warily, with more than normal caution. "Oh... hi. Is this your doggy?"
When the Scooby Snack is brought out, Devil sniffs it as it's broken in half, and decides it's apparently a good enough treat. When it's thrown into the air, he dutifully rears up on his back legs, to snatch it out of the air with a loud chomp before settling on all fours again. Okay, these people are obviously good people. He flops down onto his back, accepting and asking for even more pettings and scritchings.
The Phantom drags his hand down his face and looks to Helena. "At this point, I'm tempted to just shoot him," he mutters, and Helena can imagine where the strain is coming from that makes that even something to half-joke about. He looks back to Lunair when she asks him if Devil's his, and he replies with, "Well--technically, he's my wolf, yes, but he's about to be my hat." Naturally, Devil just ignores that comment. Of course he does. But that's when the Phantom sees that severed hand. Oh, joy. His right hand rests on his right holster, fingertips near the snap fastener, and he points to the severed hand with his left index finger. "I don't suppose I want to know where that came from..."
Helena Bertinelli is still more behind the Phantom so she can't see the goings on as well, but her purple-clad friend's tone of voice seems to imply there's nothing dire going on, as do the voices coming from inside. And then things abruptly change when the Phantom points at something. Of course, she's got the perfect vantage point to NOT see what he's indicating, so can't really offer any information. But, without any other clues to go by, she is going to err on the side of caution, and she steps to one side of the doorway, putting her back to the wall and hopefully getting herself out of anyone's line of sight. If there's about to be a VERY messy fan, she doesn't want to be in the splatter radius.
"Oh, I am SO sure you don't wanna draw that gun there, Captain Purplepants!" Deadpool croons. He squishes the dog's face forward so he looks like one of those hilarious Bernards where it's all eyebrows and no eyes. He ruffs the dog back and forth. "No he doesn't! Yes he does? No he doesn't!" He nods and shakes the dogs head back and forth, still skritching Devil's ears.
"This is, like, the greatest dog ever," Deadpool exclaims. "You wanna come live with me? You can be DeadDog! Or DeadWolf! We can have wacky adventures, and you can help me pick up chicks!" Deadpool leans and delivers a theatric aside, sotto voce, to Lunair: "Chicks love guys with dogs," he informs her. "Ultimate ice breaker. What do you think? Can you do him, like, one of those Navy SEAL vests, with like a laser gun? Or! Oooh! ooh! Lasers from his eyes?!"
Lunair is trying to balance talking to two or three people at once. She smiles as Devil chomps and snatches the treat. She looks a little closer to normal, oddly enough. "I see. Um. I'm not sure. I guess I can toss it out if it's bothering people... it is pretty unsanitary," She notes quietly. She looks between Deadpool and Phantom now, uncertain of what to make or do here. Her diplomacy seems to go as well as convincing people she's sane. She smiles at Deadpool. "That makes sense..." She considers. "Um. Well. We could give him a weapon but I'm not sure it's okay with his owner or a good idea. I mean, he's got pretty sharp teeth... and no thumbs. We'd need to do some serious modding." She thinks. She seems torn between going with it and not. She instead, settles for a serene sort of confusion. "That would be interesting, though."
"No," says the Phantom, "I'm pretty sure drawing the weapon is an option, depending on where that hand came from. "And as much as he's a pain in my heinie-bumper right now, I'll thank you both to kindly not add laser-anythings to him." Devil's enough of a pest and attention-seeker without adding that kind of thing. He'd be able to force scritchings at laser-gun-point, then.
Speaking of Devil, he still ignores the fact that the Phantom is Very Not Pleased right now. Nah, these people can't be all that bad. Nuttier than a squirrel's breakfast, sure, but not all bad. Still, as long as no one makes any offensive moves, he's quite happy to stay right where he is, getting as much adoration and attention as the crazy people can give him. He's still--vaguely--On Duty, but come on! It's not every day people will give a wolf such attention.
Helena Bertinelli stays with her back against the wall by the doorway, but can't stop herself from looking at Phantom and repeating silently 'Heinie-bumper?' Where the HELL is this guy from, again? So, for lack of anything else to do at the moment, she starts acting as lookout, making sure no OTHER unsavory types from this part of Gotham sneak up on them while they're ... discussing Devil.
Deadpool looks at Lunair for a long moment, then turns and points an accusing finger at The Phantom!
"HAAAAAH. Heinie-bumper! HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!" Deadpool howls and bangs his palms on the ground, clearly almost in tears. "That is... oh my GOD, you are just adorable!" Suddenly, he's right next to the Phantom and pinching his cheeks like someone's favorite Aunt. "I could just wrap you up and put you in my pocket!"
Deadpool's back at the dog an eyeblink later. What? Where did he learn to do that? It's a 10th level Ninja Superpower called Comedic Effect! Like when someone leaps through the air in a comic book fight and screams, like, thirty seconds of dialogue. Angular suspension of momentum in exchange for awesomeness!
"Is he always like this?" Deadpool asks Devil. He nods Devil's head up and down. "Is he always a grumpy sourpuss? Is he ever funny?" He shakes Devil's head back and forth, then scratches under his chin. "Who's a good boy who doesn't care where that stinky hand came from? I can tell you don't care! Captain Purplebritches, who looks like a bad Cirque d'Soleil reject, never even asked if the guy even wanted that hand anymore. If he just left it laying around, he must not be very... attached to it?" Rimshot!
Lunair glances back as Deadpool looks at her. She looks a bit baffled. She clearly has no idea what a heinie bumper is. Aside from the fact it may be an expression her grandma used. Confusion reigns and she smiles politely. Lost might be a good word for it. For now, she listens, tilting her head. "Hee." She seems amused, at any rate. Though, she rubs the back of her head. At the hand pun, a smile quirks. "Well... I can take it outside to dispose of it if it's bothering anyone... He seems like a very friendly wolf, though, all dead hands aside." She considers. Again, she lets herself be the audience for a moment, watching a bit. Maybe she's TRYING to move towards normalcy. But it's like watching a greased platypus try to ice skate. Weird.
...wait, what? The Phantom is too stunned by the blink-here-blink-there effect to do much but--well, blink. Not that it's obvious, considering the blank lenses of the mask, but still. "How did--what--why..." He's really that surprised, that he can't immediately form a coherent sentence. He looks to Helena, gesturing vaguely toward Deadpool. "You saw that, yes? I wasn't the only one who saw that. Tell me I wasn't the only one who saw that." Or feel it, but he's more concerned with the guy blink-a-porting all over the place than pinching his cheeks.
Devil doesn't seem to notice the man was even gone, though when he returns the wolf looks just that much more content. YES MORE SCRITCHINGS. He takes the face-smooshing and shaking in good humor, since it's obviously not meant as anything else, and in fact seems more than pleased with it. Though, he is an attention-seeker, so there probably isn't much he wouldn't put up with in pursuit of that goal.
Helena Bertinelli is standing guarding Phantom's back, and has no way of seeing into the room where the Deadpool-ness has caused Phantom less-than-serene confusion. "See what? I'm busy making sure we don't get ganked while you're chatting up the Lupine Appreciation Club in there." She looks up and down the streets within eyeshot again, just to be sure again that no one is approaching. "So... how much longer are we gonna be here?"
Deadpool gives Devil one more pet, then rises. "Good puppy. Sit. Stay!" He glances around conspiratorially, then leans down and gives Devil a stage whisper. "When the time comes, I'll call for you. Until then... be careful! And be safe!" He looks at The Phantom, and chucks the severed hand at him. "Here! Maybe you'll find the guy that belonged. Pretty sure he doesn't want it back, though!"
NINJA VANISH MODE! Deadpool strikes a pose for some reason, then turns and just kind of... walks out the back door. Anticlimactic, that was.
Aww. Lunair smiles at Deadpool and Devil. She waves to them. "See you. Enjoy your evenin," She nods. Her eyes widen as Deadpool chucks the hand at the Phantom. "I am pretty certain that Miss Manners would frown on throwing a hand at someone..." She considers it. "Yes. With that in mind, I think I am going to go read... and have tea. That is normal?" Maybe. She will gently pet Devil on her way along and out. She seems to be an oddity that all at once does and does not belong in the darkness.
"Long enough to figure out what the heck is going--hey..." replies the Phantom, stopping himself when he looks back and sees the red-and-black-clad man just kind'a--walk away. And he just knows that if he were to give chase, the guy would be gone. It would just figure.
And now the other woman's leaving, too. The Phantom just--facepalms again. "Devil, get over here," he mutters, and the wolf rolls over onto his feet, padding back toward his human and the human's friend. The wolf looks up to them with a curious expression, as if asking, "What?"
Dragging his hand down his face again, the Phantom looks over to Helena. "Let's just--let's just pretend this never happened, okay? I think that's the safest thing to do..." Otherwise he's pretty sure his brain would break from trying to figure out what the heck just happened.
Helena Bertinelli can't be sure her brain isn't already broken. "Yeah... yeah, I think I can deal with that." She looks at Devil and mock-glares at him for a moment. "The heck was that all about, man?"
Devil just looks up at the two of them like they're the ones that lost their minds. The Phantom just--shakes his head, waves Devil off, and turns around to head off while massaging his temples through his cowl. Yeah. So gon'a forget this ever happened.