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xp_logsNorth and Wade make a bet, then drag Jean into the fallout.
Rolling his tongue around the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing, David leaned his head against the wall and licked his lips. He slid his empty glass toward his companion, silently requesting a refill as he popped a bonbon into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“These are good,” he commented, almost idly. “You are sure they won’t be missed?”
"I'm sure I can buy Lorna some more," Wade said, tipping the bottle just enough to pour a respectable amount of liquor into David's glass. "That's basically the same thing." Reaching for a bonbon of his own the mercenary chewed contentedly. "Mmph. Tasty and delicious."
“I can tell,” David replied with some degree of amusement, savouring another generous mouthful of alcohol to wash down the sweet treat. “You’ve already tipped half the box down your gullet.”
"Not my fault it took you so long to realize how amazing they are," Wade said, waggling his eyebrows. "Are you convinced, yet, of the awesomeness of the '69 Mustang? I feel like you should be." He picked up another bonbon and ate it, then snagged yet another and contemplated it.
The other man merely propped his chin up on a palm and shrugged, perfectly content to watch Wade shovel confectionery down his throat – or stare at it with a strange kind of wonderment – while David himself enjoyed the alcohol-induced lightness of his head. “Whatever makes you happy.”
Wade rolled his eyes. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that the German had no appreciation for American muscle cars. "I can mess with the cap on the speedometer that keeps it from going over 180 mph or whatever it is," he said around a mouthful of chocolate-y goodness. Then he waved his hand through the air and changed the subject. "What d'you wanna bet I can fit fifteen of these things in my mouth at the same time?"
The look David leveled at his friend was pretty scathing – or would have been if he had not already downed what must have been more than a bottle of whiskey over the past couple of hours. As it was, it came off as rather bland.
“I don’t really need to know what you can or cannot fit into that large gob of yours,” he commented, grabbing the bottle and tipping its contents into his glass. “But let’s say you can shove whatever else is in that box into your mouth at the same time without swallowing or throwing up…” The spy paused, thinking that there was something vaguely wrong about what he just said, before shrugging. “I’ll give you three hours of my time.”
Grinning, Wade offered David his hand. "Done. If I can't do it, you get three hours of my time."
Half an hour later, nothing left of Lorna's bonbons but a smudge on Wade's thumb, the mercenary stood outside Jean's suite with David and knocked on the door. "Heya, Hot Doc Jean! I got a question for you!" Victory was so sweet, sometimes. So very, very sweet. And this was going to be amazing.
Jean was folding laundry with her own two hands. She could've taken a shortcut but she found the act of folding zen-like. The warmth of the clothing, coupled with the fresh smell made things feel clean and orderly. She set the clothes aside and stood up just before Wade knocked. People passed by the door all the time but most didn't come knocking. People with...a friend?
Opening the door, Jean tilted her head. "I take it this is not about your next appointment. You look too chipper."
“He’s drunk,” David interjected before Wade could, like it mattered, and like the contractions in his speech and more pronounced German accent were not proof enough of his slight inebriation. “And I clearly underestimated his level of stupidity and disposition to do ridiculous and silly things.”
Wade elbowed David in the side. "Doc Jean knows it's basically impossible for me to get drunk unless a very specific set of criteria are met." Looking earnestly at Jean, Wade said, "Those criteria have not, in fact, been met. It's more than possible, though, that I've had more than my fair share of Lorna's bonbons in addition to enough alcohol to make a normal person fall-down-drunk. It's just good I'm not normal. So you should come down to the Danger Room with us. I have outfits and everything and you're gonna love the one I picked for you. It's so badass."
Studying the two of them a moment, Jean folded her arms with a smile. "Well that explains why the two of you smell like you have drunk enough alcohol to become a fire hazard," she said. "It doesn't explain why you're asking me to come with. What outfit?" she added suspiciously. And why did she feel like she would regret it?
“A hidden fetish, apparently,” David quipped dryly, casting his eyes skywards with an expression which clearly expressed the ‘why me?’ thought running through his mind. “And I go along with it only because I was being fairly stupid a half hour ago, but gave my word and am a man of honour.”
It was a noble attempt at explaining his temporary lapse in sanity and also served as a plain enough warning for Jean that he would be in no way responsible for anything should she agree to go along with Wade's shenanigans. Or so he thought, anyway.
Reaching over, Wade put his hand over David's face, fingers splayed wide, and then looked back toward Jean. "Jean. Jeanie. Jeanifella. Jean Amazmagoria. I give you two words that will explain everything." He paused for dramatic effect. "Temple. Run."
Jean thought about it for a little while, then shrugged with a smile. "Eh, what the hell. I'm in. But we get to use powers. That game defies the laws of physics."
Were he anyone else, David’s jaw may have dropped at her flippant acceptance of what may be the dumbest idea he had heard thus far this year. By far. As it were, the precog shoved Wade’s hand from his face, threatened to bite the limb, and turned to lead the pair towards what felt like a certain doom. “You realise that I am an old man, ja?”
Wade grinned. "Sweet!" Swinging an arm around Jean's shoulders, he followed along behind David. "Pssh. I'm older than you are, whippersnapper. No complaints."
"Don't make us regret this, Wilson," Jean said with a smile. They had to keep in shape for battle through DR sessions, so she was prepared to allow herself some break from the normal, tedious ones. They had to have fun every once in awhile, right?
Once they got to the Danger Room, Wade walked over to the boxes he'd brought down earlier and handed them out. "Scarlet Fox for you, Hot Doc Jean," he said. "Montana Smith for you, Prickly Pear," he grinned as he handed North his box. "And Guy Dangerous for me. Let's get changed."
Tilting her head, Jean eyed the boxes suspiciously. "I'm more than a little frightened you already had these ready-made for us, Wilson," she said.
“Have we not learned not to be surprised at the” – stupid – “most peculiar things this strange fellow does?” David asked rhetorically, holding up the costume with as straight a face as he could manage before ducking around a table to change. Wade had explained the basic premises of the game he had not personally played and, well. Now he was curious as to how it worked as a Danger Room session. Except now it felt like he had just walked into a well laid-out trap. The spy in him really hated that feeling.
"Don't be frightened, young Jean," Wade said, popping a hat on his head before he started pulling on the rest of his costume. "Just think of this as a learning experience - a lesson, if you will, in 'never betting Wade how many bonbons he can fit in his mouth at once.'"
Jean let out a snort. "I could've told you that," she said wryly, opening the box to peek at the contents inside, what little there was. "Yeah, this outfit's getting a little modified.”
“And my facial hair protests,” North added as he emerged, buckling the belt around his too-thin waist and somehow managing to fling the fake mustache/beard at Wade’s face without even looking up past the brim of the cowboy hat he had jammed tightly onto his head.
Wade swiped the fake mustache/beard combo piece out of the air and beamed at Jean and David. "Let us sally forth, my friends, into the wild blue yonder of decrepit temples, mysterious coins, vibrant jewels, and deceitful gaps in stonework!"
Rolling his tongue around the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing, David leaned his head against the wall and licked his lips. He slid his empty glass toward his companion, silently requesting a refill as he popped a bonbon into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“These are good,” he commented, almost idly. “You are sure they won’t be missed?”
"I'm sure I can buy Lorna some more," Wade said, tipping the bottle just enough to pour a respectable amount of liquor into David's glass. "That's basically the same thing." Reaching for a bonbon of his own the mercenary chewed contentedly. "Mmph. Tasty and delicious."
“I can tell,” David replied with some degree of amusement, savouring another generous mouthful of alcohol to wash down the sweet treat. “You’ve already tipped half the box down your gullet.”
"Not my fault it took you so long to realize how amazing they are," Wade said, waggling his eyebrows. "Are you convinced, yet, of the awesomeness of the '69 Mustang? I feel like you should be." He picked up another bonbon and ate it, then snagged yet another and contemplated it.
The other man merely propped his chin up on a palm and shrugged, perfectly content to watch Wade shovel confectionery down his throat – or stare at it with a strange kind of wonderment – while David himself enjoyed the alcohol-induced lightness of his head. “Whatever makes you happy.”
Wade rolled his eyes. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that the German had no appreciation for American muscle cars. "I can mess with the cap on the speedometer that keeps it from going over 180 mph or whatever it is," he said around a mouthful of chocolate-y goodness. Then he waved his hand through the air and changed the subject. "What d'you wanna bet I can fit fifteen of these things in my mouth at the same time?"
The look David leveled at his friend was pretty scathing – or would have been if he had not already downed what must have been more than a bottle of whiskey over the past couple of hours. As it was, it came off as rather bland.
“I don’t really need to know what you can or cannot fit into that large gob of yours,” he commented, grabbing the bottle and tipping its contents into his glass. “But let’s say you can shove whatever else is in that box into your mouth at the same time without swallowing or throwing up…” The spy paused, thinking that there was something vaguely wrong about what he just said, before shrugging. “I’ll give you three hours of my time.”
Grinning, Wade offered David his hand. "Done. If I can't do it, you get three hours of my time."
Half an hour later, nothing left of Lorna's bonbons but a smudge on Wade's thumb, the mercenary stood outside Jean's suite with David and knocked on the door. "Heya, Hot Doc Jean! I got a question for you!" Victory was so sweet, sometimes. So very, very sweet. And this was going to be amazing.
Jean was folding laundry with her own two hands. She could've taken a shortcut but she found the act of folding zen-like. The warmth of the clothing, coupled with the fresh smell made things feel clean and orderly. She set the clothes aside and stood up just before Wade knocked. People passed by the door all the time but most didn't come knocking. People with...a friend?
Opening the door, Jean tilted her head. "I take it this is not about your next appointment. You look too chipper."
“He’s drunk,” David interjected before Wade could, like it mattered, and like the contractions in his speech and more pronounced German accent were not proof enough of his slight inebriation. “And I clearly underestimated his level of stupidity and disposition to do ridiculous and silly things.”
Wade elbowed David in the side. "Doc Jean knows it's basically impossible for me to get drunk unless a very specific set of criteria are met." Looking earnestly at Jean, Wade said, "Those criteria have not, in fact, been met. It's more than possible, though, that I've had more than my fair share of Lorna's bonbons in addition to enough alcohol to make a normal person fall-down-drunk. It's just good I'm not normal. So you should come down to the Danger Room with us. I have outfits and everything and you're gonna love the one I picked for you. It's so badass."
Studying the two of them a moment, Jean folded her arms with a smile. "Well that explains why the two of you smell like you have drunk enough alcohol to become a fire hazard," she said. "It doesn't explain why you're asking me to come with. What outfit?" she added suspiciously. And why did she feel like she would regret it?
“A hidden fetish, apparently,” David quipped dryly, casting his eyes skywards with an expression which clearly expressed the ‘why me?’ thought running through his mind. “And I go along with it only because I was being fairly stupid a half hour ago, but gave my word and am a man of honour.”
It was a noble attempt at explaining his temporary lapse in sanity and also served as a plain enough warning for Jean that he would be in no way responsible for anything should she agree to go along with Wade's shenanigans. Or so he thought, anyway.
Reaching over, Wade put his hand over David's face, fingers splayed wide, and then looked back toward Jean. "Jean. Jeanie. Jeanifella. Jean Amazmagoria. I give you two words that will explain everything." He paused for dramatic effect. "Temple. Run."
Jean thought about it for a little while, then shrugged with a smile. "Eh, what the hell. I'm in. But we get to use powers. That game defies the laws of physics."
Were he anyone else, David’s jaw may have dropped at her flippant acceptance of what may be the dumbest idea he had heard thus far this year. By far. As it were, the precog shoved Wade’s hand from his face, threatened to bite the limb, and turned to lead the pair towards what felt like a certain doom. “You realise that I am an old man, ja?”
Wade grinned. "Sweet!" Swinging an arm around Jean's shoulders, he followed along behind David. "Pssh. I'm older than you are, whippersnapper. No complaints."
"Don't make us regret this, Wilson," Jean said with a smile. They had to keep in shape for battle through DR sessions, so she was prepared to allow herself some break from the normal, tedious ones. They had to have fun every once in awhile, right?
Once they got to the Danger Room, Wade walked over to the boxes he'd brought down earlier and handed them out. "Scarlet Fox for you, Hot Doc Jean," he said. "Montana Smith for you, Prickly Pear," he grinned as he handed North his box. "And Guy Dangerous for me. Let's get changed."
Tilting her head, Jean eyed the boxes suspiciously. "I'm more than a little frightened you already had these ready-made for us, Wilson," she said.
“Have we not learned not to be surprised at the” – stupid – “most peculiar things this strange fellow does?” David asked rhetorically, holding up the costume with as straight a face as he could manage before ducking around a table to change. Wade had explained the basic premises of the game he had not personally played and, well. Now he was curious as to how it worked as a Danger Room session. Except now it felt like he had just walked into a well laid-out trap. The spy in him really hated that feeling.
"Don't be frightened, young Jean," Wade said, popping a hat on his head before he started pulling on the rest of his costume. "Just think of this as a learning experience - a lesson, if you will, in 'never betting Wade how many bonbons he can fit in his mouth at once.'"
Jean let out a snort. "I could've told you that," she said wryly, opening the box to peek at the contents inside, what little there was. "Yeah, this outfit's getting a little modified.”
“And my facial hair protests,” North added as he emerged, buckling the belt around his too-thin waist and somehow managing to fling the fake mustache/beard at Wade’s face without even looking up past the brim of the cowboy hat he had jammed tightly onto his head.
Wade swiped the fake mustache/beard combo piece out of the air and beamed at Jean and David. "Let us sally forth, my friends, into the wild blue yonder of decrepit temples, mysterious coins, vibrant jewels, and deceitful gaps in stonework!"
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