xp_logs | Kevin & Wade | Monday afternoon (Reply)

Kevin finds a new guy in the gym when he goes to work out.

Warning: Inappropriate humor regarding taking advantage of drunk girls.

Wade had been really fucking twitchy since getting to the mansion - he still blamed the forced confinement of the plane over from Muir - and even shooting hadn't really helped.So he'd headed to the gym and run for an hour before he sat and stretched out to cool down a little. Then he began the kata, slow with measured breaths and infinite control. Wade flowed from one form to the next, concentrating almost entirely on his body as he did, though he couldn't help the part of him that constantly paid attention to his surroundings, hypervigilant even here.

Once he'd moved through the kata once, he began again. Wade would do this over and over again until he felt centered. Considering all the upheaval he'd put himself through recently, it could be a while.

Kevin ran or swam for cardiovascular exercise so when he game to the gym there was only one purpose: weight lifting. He wore a single long sleeved, hooded shirt over a wife beater and a pair of pants that were the closest thing to track pants that were Kevin-proof he could find. He hadn't really been anticipating anyone being in the gym at the time, but he'd been anticipating a stranger even less. His hood got pulled up over his head and Kevin's posture shifted the smalled bit, becoming tenser and more aware than he'd been just a moment ago. The Southerner kept an eye on the man in the room, but he didn't say anything to him. Whatever it was the guy was doing, it looked like he was concentrating. Giving the stranger a wide berth, Kevin headed over to the weights silently.

The part of Wade's brain that was paying attention to the room around him noted the kid, his pause and then the raising of his hood, and the fact that he didn't approach or attempt to interrupt. That was nice. The kid also seemed more interested in the weights than chitter chatter - obviously Wade needed to do something about that. After he'd finished the Kata two more times.

He settled himself, feeling better than he had in several days, and then turned to watch the kid in the hood and the gloves. Tipping his head to the side, Wade watched for a while and then asked, "When you get to the bench press, do you need a spotter?" Sometimes people didn't - sometimes they were ridiculously strong and that was cool, so far as the mercenary was concerned, but it was always nice to offer, just in case the kid went and tried to squish himself. Wade's conscience would be clear, at least - he'd tried to be helpful.

"Thanks, but Ah'm not plannin' on usin' the bench press." And most of that reason was that he wasn't stupid enough to do it without a spotter but he wasn't willing to trust half the people around the mansion to spot him either. It had more to do with his mutation than their strength, as usual. Kevin wanted to simply fall silent again, but he could hear his grandmother and his mom in the back of his head telling him how rude he was being. He let his hand drop down to his side, dumb bell still in hand. "So Ah 'ssume you're the token new guy that just showed up in the mansion?"

Wade looked down at himself, then back up at the kid and shrugged. "Token new guy - that works as well as anything else, I guess. I kind of prefer 'extra special awesome guy who'll notice I don't have a spotter and offer to help keep me from getting squished,' but that's just me. What part of the South are you from?" He was good at placing accents generally, but beyond regions his expertise kind of tapered off.

"Atlanta," Kevin answered. "But my parents grew up further south in Peachtree City so Ah sound like them rather than people in Atlanta, really." The accent was obvious, Kevin knew that, but it was strange to him that someone would ask where he was from. People almost never asked. They either thought the accent was cute or didn't comment on it at all unless they couldn't understand anything he said. "And, y'know, all that extra special awesome stuff takes too long to say. Ah talk slow enough as it is."

Sniffing, Wade moved over to the wall and let himself slide down it until he was sitting. He stretched out, making sure he wouldn't give himself cramps from cooling down too fast, and said, "I'm still extra special and awesome. Nobody likes a squished Georgian, after all." The last time Wade had been in Georgia, he'd been working a protection detail for a Southern belle. It had involved a debutante ball. "Did you got to cotillions and stuff like that?"

Since he didn't generally carry on conversations while lifting weights Kevin set the dumbbells aside and focused on the guy sliding down the wall. Of course, the question that followed just left the Southerner blinking at the other man and giving him a look as if to suggest he was incredibly peculiar. "Uh, no. Ah've never known anyone who had or went to a cotillion. You might need to go to not Atlanta parts of Georgia for that."

"Thank God - I might've had to not like you if you'd been to one of those things," Wade said, grinning at the kid. "They're all fancy dresses and girls squealing at one another and it's really difficult to make sure people are where they're supposed to be." He shook his head. That protection detail had been a nightmare and a half.

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "You're talkin' like you've got some real experience with all that. Ah'm not sure Ah should be seen associatin' with someone who's been to a cotillion. It's bad for the stereotype and Ah got enough of that ringin' true with me already."

"Wait, wait - does it make it better if I tell you that they forced me into the suit I had to wear and I was working so it wasn't like I was there to dance with the chicks in the dresses?" Wade's tone was hopeful.

"Did you choose to take the job or was it the only one you could get?"

"Huh..." Wade thought about that for a moment. "It paid the best? But then, I kind of look at it as a learning experience - that was years ago and I've never taken a job involving debutantes since, so... everybody's gotta start somewhere, right?"

"There were debutantes?" That got the man on the floor a rather unimpressed look. "Nope, totally doesn't make it better."

"Damn," Wade said, still grinning. "I had a gun at the time. Does that make it better? Also, I didn't know debutantes and cotillions would be involved when I took the job?"

"Did you shoot any debutantes?" Kevin sounded suspiciously hopeful.

"I was supposed to keep one from getting shot - oh! Oh, I shot somebody else at the cotillion, though. Definitely ruined their dancing or whatever. Do I get bonus points for getting blood spatter on eight dresses?"

Kevin appeared to consider that and after some time began to nod slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, Ah think you get some bonus points for that. Now, they ain't enough points to dig you outta your debutant cotillion in a suit hole, but you could feasibly try to make a grab for the edge of your hole where you're sittin' now." He said this in what Kevin liked to think of as his reasonable mafia guy voice. It in no way resembled a mafia tone, namely thanks to the lack of even an attempt at an Italian-American accent.

"Excellent," Wade said, nodding enthusiastically. "I'm pretty sure I can bounce from one side of the hole to the other and scrabble my way up to the top." He paused, then nodded his head as he hummed the chorus from Chumbawamba's "Tubthumping."

When Kevin recognized the song he just shook his head and picked up his weights again. "Alright, well you have fun scrabblin' and all." He was feeling particularly bad at small talk today and he'd engaged the stranger in some sort of conversation so he'd fulfilled his polite quota for the situation.

"Why aren't you planning on using the bench press?"

Damn. Was there a polite way to answer that? Kevin had to think about it before he could manage something that didn't sound wholly rude to his own ears. "Ah like using specific people as spotters when Ah do. They know me, know when Ah need the help and when Ah don't and Ah trust 'em. Ah'd rather not use people as spotters if Ah don't have that sorta thing with them. Personal preference, Ah guess."

"Nah, that makes sense," Wade said, nodding. "What's with the gloves?"

"They help keep things that ain't metal or rock from disintegrating at my touch," Kevin told him in a rather reasonable and matter-of-fact tone. "Parts of the weights would be fine, but the grips they put on them and the coating they use sometimes, it'd all just disintegrate until there was only metal or rock left."

Wade digested that information. "The disintegrating thing, that's why you put your hood up when you came in and saw me?"

Kevin mentally gave him a point for putting two and two together when very few people tended to. He nodded. "Yeah. The less of me that's exposed the easier it is to make sure accidents don't happen where you lose half your face or somethin'."

"Huh," Wade said, considering that for a long moment while the kid carried on with his dumbbell. Then, unsolicited, he raised his right hand and said, "I, Wade Winston Wilson, do hereby solemnly swear to keep my hands and other extraneous appendages away from... hey, what's your name?"

The Southerner narrowed his eyes at the man apparently named Wade. "Yeah, you keep your extraneous appendages away from me. Ah don't need your appendages tryin' to get frisky. Ah already had to get groped by TSA guy, my quota on strangers and their appendages is full! And my name's Kevin."

"Yeah, but what's your full name? I need a middle name, too. Also, you're cute but there are way too many hot women here for my extraneous appendages to be getting frisky with you. And you're like twelve."

"Twenty-one," he corrected without much caring that the guy thought Kevin looked twelve. Most sixteen year olds looked ten to him so he figured that perception got worse as you got older. "And what is with people callin' me 'cute'?" He seemed to genuinely confused by this. Enough so that he failed to answer Wade about his full name. "Ah mean, you're the only guy to say it and Ah'm goin' on the assumption you don't mean it seriously but still...it's just wrong."

"I mean, I could call you a sexy hunk of man meat, but that's kind of long," Wade said, shrugging. "Also, name. I need to make this official."

Kevin went to say something, mouth opening, then stopped before any sound came out. He stood there with a dumbbell half raised and his jaw slack for a good fifteen seconds before shutting his mouth and starting over again. "Never say that again." In order to wipe the memory of that comment from his brain as quickly as possible he quickly added, "Ford. Kevin Ford. Ah ain't got a middle name."

Wade practically beamed. "Alright." Then he cleared his throat and continued, "Dot dot dot extraneous appendages away from Kevin Ford's disintegrating powers because I don't really want to have to regrow half my face and it'd probably be really rude to make him watch me do that or something." He kept his right hand raised for that entire speech, letting it drop only once he'd nodded his own satisfaction with the pledge. "Also, seriously. My fingers and shit will regrow, but it takes a while and that sucks. So real word of honor. I'm keeping these puppies to myself." He wiggled his fingertips at Kevin.

"That's nice. Ah get people with healin' factors who are all 'oh but it'll grow back.' It's rude, for one, and real annoying for another." Jay was the one who wasn't concerned because it would grow back, but Laura had also taken a risk when she shouldn't have and had kissed Kevin's cheek. "People don't really get it half the time. But that look on someone's face when they realize their whole arm is mummified pretty much? Yeah, that sticks in your head. And bein' the idiot to get partially decayed because you're stupid and you can grow it back? Yeah, that don't help. Like, at all."

"I am not a rocket scientist, but that seems pretty stupid, yeah," Wade said, shrugging. He took more risks than most people would because he did have the healing factor to fall back on, gimpy thought it apparently was. That didn't mean he wanted to go snuggle somebody who'd decay his face off just for shits and giggles so he could then wait for his face to grow back. "None of that from me."

"Congratulations, Mister Wilson," he had called Kevin twelve, "you've officially scrabbled outta your hole and even got a little bit up a tree. You're a winner! In two to six weeks you'll be gettin' a gold star in the mail pending a magazine subscription of your choice."

"Oooooh... a magazine subscription of my choice - what magazine should I choose? Busty blonds? Feisty redheads? Sultry brunettes? All three? I'm not sure I can handle the pressure - this is a major decision for me..."

"Busty Asian Beauties," Kevin recommended in the utmost seriousness.

Wade's head tilted to the side, his expression going blank for a moment as he considered that option. "For a twelve year old, you've definitely got some stellar taste in porn."

Kevin affected a much more redneck accent and said, "Daddy started me on it young to keep me off momma's tit he said and to get me lookin' at someone other than Becky Sue 'cause he said first cousins weren't allowed but in Alabama."

Wade burst out laughing. "No, no - go back to the other accent. I like it better. It makes me think less of Deliverance."

"You got a real purrrtee mouth," he said in the same Redneck accent.

"You think?" Wade puckered up and made a kissy face at Kevin.

"Uh-huh," came the response with faux enthusiasm. "You a flyer by any chance?" Some of the redneck had leeched out of his accent, but a fair bit of it was still there as well.

"Is that some kind of euphemism?"

Kevin considered that for a second, then grinned. "Probably should be. Ah only seem to go for guys if they've got flyin' mutations of some sort. Figured Ah oughta make it criteria. Y'know, to either seal in how purdy your mouth is or not." He kept grinning. Kevin's accent was back to his own save for the redneck flair on the word "purdy."

"Damn," Wade said, sighing dramatically. "Everybody's either taken or has criteria. How the hell am I supposed to get laid here?"

"Get everyone so drunk you can take advantage of them and they'll be too drunk to remember if it was good or not so you won't have to worry about your bad rhythm while you're drunk too?" He said it as helpfully as one could plausibly sound while suggesting one take advantage of drunk people.

"I don't get drunk," Wade said, frowning as though he was actually considering the younger man's suggestion. "At least not easily. Your plan might work for me. See, I'm really good at pretending I'm drunk..."

Kevin snorted. "Oh, so you can get them drunk, pretend you're drunk and then they can't hold it against you when they realize you've drawn tribal fertility symbols all over 'em with their lipstick?"

"Fertility symbols?" Wade wrinkled his nose. "What ever happened to good, old-fashioned cocks? Right along the jawline in permanent marker."

Laughing would have been really, really wrong right now. So wrong. So Kevin didn't laugh. He just smirked a lot. "Fertility symbols freak 'em out more. They get all worried about suddenly having spawn that might or might not be crazy, drunken psychopath spawn. Permanent marker comes off with enough scrubbing anyway."

"Lipstick comes off quicker," Wade pointed out. "But you've a dastardly mind in you, Kevin Ford. I admire dastardly. It's better than daring. Edges closer to swashbuckling, but since swashbuckling's not really an adjective, we'll stay away from it for the purposes of describing your mind." He paused to consider that, then said, "But swashbuckling is really fucking cool."

"Swashbucklin' always makes me think of girlie guys with red silk scarves tied on the hilts of their swords prancing around trying to fence like pansies." There was an obvious look of disapproval on Kevin's face. "The Princess Bride is the only movie that ever managed to make that look cool. The other guys...Ah'm pretty sure Ah could take 'em in a fight, which is sort of sad since Ah don't really fight."

"Depends on the swashbuckler, I'd guess," Wade said. He had a fondness for swords, but they weren't really his speciality. "I mean, they're always ridiculous in movies. But if you watch 'em actually fencing or fighting or whatever, it's pretty impressive. Takes a lot of training. And I'm pretty sure you couldn't take most of the real swashbucklers in a fight, man. I'm not even sure I could, and I can grow body parts back."

"Never seen real fencing or sword fighting," he admitted. "And, really, if Ah had to more'n punch someone then Ah couldn't take them in a fight. S'not really my thing. Unless Ah'm decaying someone's face off. People don't really have mental preparedness for that sort of thing it seems. Like, no one is intimidated by you touching their face. Until you let go and they're bleeding from all those exposed arteries and veins and the nerves underneath are exposed and over stimulated by your hand reaching up." It painted a rather gruesome image in Kevin's head.

"Keep up the sweet talkin' and you'll have me blushin'," Wade said, quirking an eyebrow in Kevin's direction.

Kevin shrugged a little. "It's real pretty to see half of someone's face gone. Ah could draw you a picture if you want. The memory's still real vivid up here." He tapped a gloved finger against his head just above his temple.

Wade had seen people's insides. He'd seen people dead and dying, partially decaying corpses stacked up like garbage. He didn't really need this kid to draw him a picture of his own personal trauma. "It's alright, Mighty Mouse. I'm good without having to see it all drawn out and detailed." Then he tipped his head to the side. "Sure you don't want a spotter? I'm real good at taking directions."

"Thanks, but Ah don't trust people to be telling the truth when they say that. People are stupid. It's nothin' personal, but Ah don't wanna risk repeating past events." Something could always go wrong. With his mutation acting funky then there was more possibility of wrong that could be had and that was unaccounted for wrong. With Kevin's luck his mutation would suddenly start working on inorganic stuff and he'd have to become token nudist guy.

Pushing himself up, off the floor and away from the wall, Wade nodded. "Fair enough. Good lifting, Mighty Mouse."

"Mighty Mouse?"

Wade turned so he could walk backward as he headed toward the door. "Yep. Quiet like a mouse. Vicious when somebody goes for your cheese."

"Right." Kevin said the word slowly. Now he was left to suppress the image of himself in the Mighty Mouse outfit. That would haunt him.

Beaming, Wade opened the door. "Adios, amigo."