Roxy & Wade | Sunday Afternoon

[x-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Roxy's having tire trouble so Wade offers a bit of assistance.


Unaware that her curses could be heard outside the garage, Roxy muttered a long string of expletives as she struggled on her hands and knees next to her little Chevy Sonic, attempting to change a tire she'd popped thanks to an unintentional diamond shard. Leaning back on her haunches, she briefly considered going to ask someone in the mansion for help, but decided it was better to keep trying it on her own for a little bit longer. Her dad had showed her how to do this. She knew how. She just couldn't remember the right order she was supposed to do things in. And then there was the fact that she couldn't even figure out how to get the jack to unhinge properly, if that was even the word for it. And had she even put it in the right place? The string of curses began again.

Wade had twitched the first time the curses drifted through the garage. He hadn't been able to help it. He'd heard the unmistakable sound of a tire deflating and a few other vehicle related noises - none of those had phased him. But the cursing, that was getting to him for some reason. Or maybe it was the frustration behind the words or the distress. It was probably those - he'd been through a lot, what with people dying and the world ending and then unending.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he tossed his grease rag over his shoulder, and pulled himself out from under the hood of his Impala. Amazingly, his other projects were still around, too - the one he was working on with Scott and the one he'd picked up for Angel. That was weirdly comforting. Pretty much nothing in the garage had changed - a few cars were missing, but then so were the people who'd driven them, so it was almost easier that they weren't there, constant reminders.

He walked toward the sound of renewed cursing, moving slowly because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that startling people right now was a bad idea, no matter who they were. They'd had an influx of new people and Wade... had sort of been buried in his own form of coping, so he hadn't had a chance to meet everyone yet. He stopped several yards away from the girl on her hands and knees beside her car and cleared his throat. "So uh, once you get the jack put together, you don't want to place it there - you'll bend the frame of your car. Need any help?"

Startled nonetheless by the throat clearing and the fact that she'd been completely unaware someone else had been in the garage, lost as usual in her own world, Roxy let out a surprised noise and several pin-sized diamond shards shot out of her hands, mostly bouncing up off the floor and hitting the car again, but a couple careening off herself and a few hitting the guy who was approaching her. "Oh shit! Sorry! I'm so so sorry! Are you alright?" she asked, getting to her feet.

Wade quirked a smile despite himself as he looked at the holes in his jeans. "Sure, that just adds character. I hear people pay a lot of money these days for jeans with holes in them." The cuts beneath the holes were probably already healing, so it was unlikely she'd notice any blood since it probably wouldn't be enough to soak through the denim. "Did you want some help with your flat?"

Roxy grinned, relieved that he didn't seem upset. "I'd love some, yeah. Thanks! You say put the jack together and I have no idea what that means," she said sheepishly, handing him the tire iron and the thing with the hook on one end. "Did you want some band-aids for the cuts?" She'd taken to carrying them around with her since she'd been unintentionally injuring people everywhere she went.

"Nah," Wade said, taking the pieces she handed him and putting them together correctly so he could get the right torque going. "Healing factor," he explained. "Is your spare in the trunk or under it?" He knelt and positioned the jack, locked it, and started to lift the back end so he could replace the tire. "And you're gonna want to take her somewhere to get a used tire - one that's got the same wear as your others, or as near as they can get it. Keeps things smooth."

"It's a brand new freaking car," Roxy muttered with a sigh. "The tires have barely gone five trips to the city from here." She popped the trunk. She did remember that part of her father's lesson. "It's cool you have a healing factor. Makes me feel better about what I did. Do." She lifted the tire out of the trunk, its weight surprising her a little. "What I can't seem to stop doing."

"The shards of very shiny sharp stuff?" Wade asked. "The way it cut through my jeans, it's like diamond. Glass usually just smacks stuff and falls to the floor unless there's enough size and force behind it to actually do something." Back end of the car in place, Wade started loosening the lug nuts. "I'm Wade, by the way. Wade Wilson."

"They are diamonds," the girl grinned. "But don't go scrambling around trying to pick them up and get rich. These are industrial-grade diamonds. They aren't worth much. Plus, they'll degrade in a few minutes." She wiped her hand on her jeans and held it out to Wade. "Roxy."

"Darn, my nefarious plan to tank the world's diamond market's been foiled. I'd've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you and your degrading diamond thingies," Wade said, smiling. He shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Roxy. This shouldn't take too long." He already had the old tire off and rolled away. Then he hefted the new one on, got it situated, and started replacing the lug nuts. "What brings you to our fine old manor house?"

"I think that would be unintentionally stabbing people with the projectile industrial diamonds," Roxy smirked. "I'm here until I can... not do that anymore." Since he seemed to have things well in hand with the tire, she pulled her guitar out of the backseat of the car and sat on the garage floor with it, strumming absently. "How about you? Here to learn how to control your healing factor?"

Wade smiled again as he finished with the lug nuts and started to lower the jack so the car sat evenly on all four tires. "Healing factors are pretty passive, actually. Usually they come with something more interesting, like being feral. Not so much for me. I'm just here for the company. And the food. The food's pretty awesome." And to make sure nothing happened to the mansionites. He was in the process of buying a few military-grade, not-in-the-private-sector-yet, these-are-probably-illegal-for-us-to-own, let's-just-not-mention-Wade-got-these-for-us type security features he hoped to install. "I help out with like. Some self-defense stuff and a few security things. And they let me work on my cars."

"Like a bouncer? Or a bodyguard?" Roxy asked, intrigued by what he said he did. "I didn't bring my bodyguard with me here. I kind of miss him."

"Sort of like a bodyguard, yeah," Wade said. "I mean, I ran protection details all over for a while. That took a backseat a couple years ago, though, and I've been here for the most part. And I'm actually a security analyst for Snow Valley. It's... important these days to be prepared." He finished up, checked the car's frame just in case, and then pulled the grease rag off his shoulder to wipe his hands again. "Too bad about your bodyguard, though - you'll be alright here without him, but I know it'll be weird getting used to things."

"That's cool," Roxy responded in regards to his work. "And yeah, prepared is good." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Do you know who I am?" she asked curiously. He hadn't given any indication that he knew who she was, but he didn't think it was weird that a teenage girl was lamenting the loss of her bodyguard.

Wade considered giving the girl a rundown of her information - it was on the tip of his tongue to list her full name, age, date of birth, parents full names, and the cover story given to the media about her whereabouts, but he stopped himself. Instead, he just stood up and said, "I figured it out when you pulled the guitar out of the car." Walking over to the flat tire, he shouldered it and took it to the back of the garage to be recycled, then returned to the car and put the jack in the trunk. He sat down against the new tire and raised his eyebrows. "What're you playing?"

Roxy shrugged. "I don't really know. Just... whatever. I make stuff up. But I can play something specific if you want," she offered brightly. "Umm... Pink Floyd? Queen? Doobie Brothers? Johnny Cash? Katy Perry?" she asked, smirking slightly.

"If you play 'Teenage Dream' I might sing along and no one would be happy about that," Wade said, grinning. "I once used karaoke offensively as an actual tactic in a fight. Makes for a great story. But you go ahead and play whatever you want. It's been a rough couple weeks and I've always liked listening to acoustic guitar performances."

"Offensive karaoke?" the girl questioned, smirking again. "I like that. Is that kind of like challenging the bad guy to a dance off?" She was strumming chords only mildly associated with 'Teenage Dream'. She'd been really into messing around with upbeat pop songs lately, turning everything to minor keys, slowing the tempos and trying to make them sound haunting or yearning or whatever, taking inspiration from Daughter and Lorde and others of that stripe.

"More like a really terribly pitched distraction," Wade said. He could've explained Rikki and her Russian arm but that was all before and no one was entirely sure where they stood on those things, so he just grinned. "We won the day, so it was worth it." Reminded him of not-him and how he'd sung "Cold As Ice" which just didn't work but... kind of did. Wade stopped thinking about it.

"Winning's good," Roxy nodded, singing a couple lines of her forlorn version of 'Teenage Dream.' "I gotta say," she told him with a thoughtful frown, "I mean, I know stuff's bad out there, or I wouldn't have to be here, but this place is kinda more boring than I thought it would be. I thought it would be all crazy power malfunctions all the time. But I seem to be the only one having trouble. That kinda sucks. I guess I'm supposed to be learning and be patient or whatever, but I thought if I got to a place where I could use my powers all the time without anyone trying to kill me over it, I'd figure it out, y'know? Instead, I try to control where I chuck diamonds and they never, ever go where I want them to."

Wade quirked a smile. "Takes practice, like everything else. You shot them at me when I startled you - does that happen a lot? What made you accidentally pop your tire? Find the trigger, work with it until you can control the trigger. Maybe it's adrenalin based, fight or flight - diamond shards are pretty damn sharp. It's a good protection mechanism. Could be used offensively, too, obviously. Ever tried meditation?"

Wow, that was a lot of questions. Roxy paused her strumming to try and sort them all out. "No, I've never tried meditation. My dance instructor always tried to get me to do it, but I could never shut my brain off properly. I sit by myself a lot, though," she shrugged. "I shot them the first time because I was angry. It's happened a couple times since then when I've been pissed off," she admitted. "But mostly it's when I get... startled." She didn't use that word much, but she liked it. It was a good word, especially thinking back to the other circumstances where she'd done it. "That definitely happens a lot, yeah. I also notice that my hands turn to diamond if I hold something hot or cold, or if I feel like punching someone."

"Sweet," Wade said. "Seems like it's totally protection-based, then. You should try running through kata - it's movement based meditation, sort of. It's what I use to center myself. You focus your brain on what your body's doing, helps tune out other distractions. Sometimes one run through doesn't work for me, but you can do them as many times as you need."

"I've never heard of that," Roxy confessed, unconsciously starting to strum again. This time it was 'Stairway to Heaven.' "Do you have an instructor?" she asked curiously. "Like a Sifu from the Avatar cartoon? Or maybe you could teach me?"

"Yeah, I can teach you," Wade said. "I've been teaching - " He broke off and cleared his throat. "There's a lot of other people I help with things." He'd been teaching Aquafina, but Aquafina was dead. "Martial arts, self-defense, meditation."

"Excellent!" She switched over to a Rolling Stones riff. "Ooo, you also teach martial arts, too? Like on Avatar? Kung-fu and stuff?"

That got a smile out of him. "For you I'd probably suggest Aikido until I get a better read on your skills. Then we might move to Karate or something else, but Aikido's all about redirection of force and avoiding hits - and if things get really hairy, you can break people's elbows, which is good." Wade knew he was compartmentalizing and he probably shouldn't be. There was only so much compartmentalization one could do before one went completely off the rails and he was fast approaching his max. But he'd keep on until he couldn't anymore because that was what you did.

"Well, at least I found something fun to do around here," Roxy responded cheerfully. "I was worried I wouldn't find a good dance teacher here. But I have a feeling I found something better instead."

"I don't know about dance instructors," Wade said, his tone thoughtful. "Kurt can teach you gymnastics, though, if you want. "We can start this weekend, if you want. Not sure what your schedule looks like school-wise."

The girl waved off the comment about school. "Oh, who cares about school?" she scoffed. "This is way better. And more important!"

Wade quirked another small smile. "I care about school. I'm sort of like one of those high school coaches. Keep your GPA above a 3.2 or no practice for you." That was new, actually, but it felt like the right thing to say.

Roxy narrowed her eyes at him skeptically. "Make it three point zero and you've got a deal. That's what it was on my cheer squad."

"What if I want to hold you to higher standards than your cheer squad?"

"Then I'd say you're a slave driver," she shrugged, strumming some lines from 'Barracuda.'

"It's not that bad," Wade said, amused. "It's like what? Two points higher? Ish? There abouts? You can manage that, no problem."

Roxy's eyebrow remained in 'skeptical' position. "It may be a problem when I've never managed above a seventy in my life in any subject I'm taking here, let alone an eighty-five or an eighty-seven," she informed him, not sounding embarrassed about it in the least. She knew she had other strengths, and that she was just coasting through the core high school curriculum for that diploma so the world didn't see her as a complete imbecile. "The only reason I kept a three point zero was because of stuff like music and dance and drama and home ec class," she confessed. "All they have here that'll pad my grades is gymnastics, and I've never even done any of that before. I might totally suck."

"They might have dance," Wade said, frowning a little. "And there used to be cooking classes." Lorna had taught those. Wade steered clear of going into more details. "I'm sure if you talk to the Professor or one of the other authority figures, they can help you get things sorted out. Plus, they definitely have music. Or at least a ridiculous music room. I don't know about anybody teaching a specific instrument, but I'm pretty sure they could accommodate that." He offered her a rueful smile. "But I'll give you the three point zero rather than the three point two because I get where you're coming from. Besides, meditation's supposed to be calming, I don't want to make it more stressful or anything."

"Okay, cool," Roxy nodded. "I might be able to pull that off. Especially if there's dance and cooking and music and I don't totally suck at gymnastics," she added, her mood regarding school a little brighter now. "Is there some sort of car mechanic course?" she asked hopefully, poking at the tire he'd put back on her car.

Wade smiled a little again. "I'm sure there could be. There are enough people here who know about cars. If nothing else, I can ask the Prof about sorting out a tutorial or something for credit." He paused briefly before continuing, "I do a lot of restoration. I've got projects planned for the next few years."

"Wow, really? I don't even have projects for the next few minutes," Roxy giggled. "Where'd you learn how to fix cars?"

"Here and there," Wade said. "Mostly in the military to begin with. Then I got interested in specific types of vehicles and learning the differences between them all. Having a plan helps me focus - I always have something to do even if I have to trek out to the garage to do it. And restoration is soothing. You're bringing something back, making it new again. That's a good feeling."

"I get that," Roxy smiled, nodding in understanding. "But I don't get it from cars. I get it from music. Except it's not bringing something back, it's making it heard, I guess."

"Everybody's gotta find their zen somewhere," Wade said. Then he pushed himself up and dusted off his jeans before offering Roxy a hand up. "It was good to meet you. Do you want me to check with the Prof about the tutorial?"

Roxy accepted the hand and put her guitar in the backseat of the car. "Sure, that'd be great. Thanks." She opened the driver's side door. "Hey, will you take anything for helping me out?" she asked him, opening her purse and pulling out her wallet.

Wade quirked a smile. "Nah. It's kinda what we do here."

Roxy laughed. "That does seem to be true," she acquiesced, climbing behind the wheel. "Well, can I at least bring you back a coffee or donut or a piece of pie or something from the city?"

"Sure," Wade said, nodding. "Pie sounds good." He gave Roxy a small salute before heading back into the depths of the garage to his newest project.