warren. Wade Wilson had presented a problem for Warren. Usually if one of the hotel residents was injured, they got in contact with Dr McTaggert. She knew what was going on at the hotel, and even if she was a little concerned about their lack of supervision, she was always happy to help them out. But this situation was a little different - first of all, he wasn't injured, the healing factor he seemed to possess had taken care of that, he was just unconscious. Madeline hadn't done too much lasting damage to his brain, Jean had determined that he'd wake up... well, when he was ready to wake up, really. They also just couldn't pick a room and leave him to sleep off the mental shut down, considering the weapons they'd found on him - and the equipment they'd found around him. He'd been spying on the hotel, and Warren wasn't about to let him go until he knew what the man knew about the hotel.

So in the end they'd compromised, carting him up to the top floor and settling him into the unoccupied penthouse. It wasn't really suitable for someone to live in, but one of the bedrooms was good enough to keep someone in for a little while. Scott and Warren had taken turns in baby sitting the guy, and it was currently Warren's turn. He was sitting in a chair between Wade and the door, his wings draped over the back of the chair as he read the paper. Specifically, the Wall Street Journal. Usually he just relied on Tessa to feed him through the relevant information, but given the current economic situation? Yeah, he was keeping a close eye on everything. Especially when he needed something to keep him entertained while he waited for his dinner to arrive.

wade. Okay, Wade. You've had enough. Time to wake up.

As if dragged out of his burnout by the combined power of first person narrative and the prospect of dinnertime, Wade crawled his way out of unconsciousness. It was harder than just waking up from a dream; this took concentrated effort, until he was finally flexing his fingers and toes and wiggling every limb, as if testing to see if they were still attached. When he managed to pry his eyes open, the room -- and the winged man -- swum into view. Whoa. Young, blond, Wall Street Journal. Very Gentlemen's Quarterly.

"Uh, hey?" Wade offered, craning his neck from the bed. "I dunno who you are, but for the record, I'm more of a dom than a sub. Thanks for the thought, though."

The sound of metal on metal rang through the room, as his handcuffs rattled.

warren. Warren glanced up once Wade spoke, looking over the top of the paper before folding it up and putting it aside. His relaxed demeanor didn't alter, Warren staying slumped in the chair as his captive stirred. He trusted the handcuffs would hold, at least for the moment. They didn't intend on keeping him here for an extended period of time, just long enough to talk to him.

Probably.

"You're awake," he said pleasantly, his eyes darting once to the handcuffs. "My apologies for the surroundings. We're not really equipped to take care of people here. And after the... incident, we weren't entirely sure how you'd be once you woke up." You can never be too careful, can you?

wade. Take care of? Is that what they called setting someone on fire and-- Wade winced, suddenly, as another mind brushed up alongside his own. A message blossomed in his head, like little crystalline jumbles of words, and he looked a little distracted. For the discerning observer, it might have seemed like he was just mulling over the situation. In truth, a certain Madeline Pryor had just tuned in to his frequency -- probably been waiting for the moment he woke up -- and bombarded him with the insistence that this hadn't been her, it hadn't been her, she didn't do this. Without missing another beat, well, Wade went with it: "Incident. Yeah, sure. I don't really know what happened. You guys took my sword, didn't you?"

Beat.

"And the rifle on my back."

He sent another look down his body, which felt uncomfortably light and unencumbered.

"And the pistol strapped to my calf."

Beat.

"Shit, and even the knife in the shoe. Who got to do the full-body search? Were they hot? Orifices weren't involved, were they?"

warren. Hey, what happened with Madeline was a complete accident. They hadn't left Wade out in the yard to rot, had they? They even collected up all his stuff, his weapons were locked up in the office downstairs for when he woke up. And Warren sorted out whether he was a problem or not. He straightened in the chair slightly, his wings flexing as he listened to Wade's questions.

"Scott was very thorough when he checked you for weapons. But I do believe he managed to steer clear of any orifices." Warren smirked a little. "And I think he's pretty easy on the eyes, so..." He just shrugged.

"Do you happen to recall why you were spying on private property? The girls here are very nice to look at, I'll grant you that, but spying on teenage girls doesn't usually require the sort of heat you were packing." And really, if he wanted to spy on teenage girls, the beach or one of the local high schools would be a little better equipped than the hotel.

wade. Well, teacher, that's a simple enough answer: "I always pack that heat. I find it goes good with my lawnchair. Is my lawnchair okay?" Wade's gaze had slipped to the corners of the room, taking in the spacious but ramshackle bedroom, instinctively eyeing for exits. Captured and a dickwad he may be, but he was still a damn good mercenary.

But he'd relaxed, choosing to flop back on the bed. No use worrying about it. "You guys have some pretty interesting private property," he said, pointedly. "I've bumped into a few, uh, special people over the past couple years -- which means bizarrely gifted, by the way, not Rainman -- but never this many all together. You're some kind of collective. And being kinda special myself, I was curious. I'm Wade."

warren. "Your lawnchair's okay. I think. It's downstairs, with the rest of your stuff." Though if he did try and go after it without Warren accompaning him, he'd have to come against Myles, and that could potentially be... interesting. As mild-mannered as Myles was, you really didn't want to provoke him.

Warren raises his eyebrow at the comment about the collective, and smirked a little at it. "They're like Pokemon. Gotta catch 'em all." He finally smiled properly, moving up out of the chair and heading over to Wade. "Madeline mentioned you had a healing factor. I'm Warren, by the way. I own this place." His wings flexed a little bit, he didn't really need to mention what his particular gift was, did he?

wade. Wade kept watching the wings as the other man stepped nearer; this close, he was suddenly caught up in admiring the details (so crisp! so clear! the feathers so realistic! this could be Blu-Ray!), though he still looked fairly unsurprised by Warren's visible mutation. That's the benefit of the Pool-o-Vision, kids.

"Yeah, I do--" Another telepathic jab, behind the eyeballs. Yes, Madeline! He gets it! He'd have to track down that crazy broad later. "--if you were gonna put me on a Pokemon card, you could say I recuperate from everything and sorta bounce back from anything people throw at me. I'm a little like that annoying creepy clown doll. Just less creepy." Wade waved one hand, feebly, as if to illustrate how absolutely fuzzy and cuddly and totally harmless he was. Could he be set free now?

warren. It was entirely possible Warren was showing off a little bit with his wings - why yes, he was completely vain, and why yes, he was rather proud of his wings. Whatever you do, ladies and gentlemen, do not mess with the wings.

"Well, huh." Warren thought about that. "And that's all? There's nothing else that goes along with it?" He wouldn't be the first person in the hotel that had a healing factor, but he would be the first one to have only a healing factor. Warren wouldn't be surprised if Hank would be very curious about that. Warren stopped by the bed, sliding the key to the cuffs out of his pocket before looking down at Wade.

wade. His shoulders rolled a little, indicating a shrug. "Plus some bells and whistles which come with it? I might have a bit improved strength and agility and reflexes, you know, the whole shebang, but that might just be my general awesomeness showing through. Someone once talked to me about fatigue toxins and musculature, but I don't think I listened much."

warren. "It's all swahili to me. We do have a guy here who is interested in all of that sort of thing though, he'd be able to explain it." There's a pause. "If you wanted it explained, of course." Warren grinned, then held up the key.

"So if I let you go, you're not going to go nuts and try and kill us or start talking about us, are you? As much as I don't like keeping people locked up, I do prefer keeping everyone here alive and safe. You know how it is." Or you don't, and Warren's the only person in this room who cares about that sort of thing.

wade. "Nice. Symbolism." Wade smirked at the key in Warren's hand. It was freedom and an explanation and maybe even a community, all in one. "I take the blue pill and the story ends. I wake in my bed and believe whatever I want to believe. Or I take the red pill and I stay in Wonderland and you show me how deep the rabbit-hole goes. Is that how it works? Can I get a little membership card to your treehouse club? At least a decoder ring?"

Flippant and irreverent, but there was an odd, discordant edge of sobriety in his voice. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd grown used to a mask, but Wade's grin had faded, and his scars painted his expression into something more ... sombre. Maybe he was taking this seriously. Maybe he actually did want company; a lonely existence out on the beach in his Deadshack can't be too stimulating. Then again, maybe he wasn't.

"Promise I won't go apeshit and/or try to kill any of you guys and/or blab you to the world. I've got a job to do and my own secrets to keep, man. I don't know if I want to kick around here, but I'll want to talk to your guy, at least. Check out your Freaks R Us operation. Maybe try jumping a bike off your roof."

warren. "Well, usually people just get the offer of a room and all that, but most of the kids here don't strap on guns and knives to spy on us. So you know." He smirked, kneeling down to unlock the handcuffs. Locking people up wasn't really Warren's favourite thing in the world to do - unless, of course, it was foreplay, but that was a completely different matter.

"You are welcome to stay though, if you like." He shrugged, pulling the cuff off his wrist and straightening up. "The place is a shit hole, but we have running water and electricity and grand plans for renovation one day. Plenty of rooms available, and we don't charge rent. Just, you know. Don't go telling people. Or knocking down the place. That's pretty much the only rule we have around here. There's a kitchen downstairs, we have a terribly high tech journal system, and nearly everyone spends way too much time in front of the tvs." It was really a fantastic set-up. Warren has no idea how it's become so popular.

wade. As he rose from the bed, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists, Wade found himself asking, "What, no wise old bald dude teaching classes?"

... And then he looked a little confused, not knowing where that had come from. Some half-baked idea which had, strictly speaking, felt right at the time. He brushed it off with another grin.

warren. "... no old dudes here full stop," he replied with a confused frown on his face. Such a random thing to ask. "Hank's the oldest here, and he definitely isn't bald." He smiled a little bit, just shrugging it off.

"Anyway. I guess you'll be wanting your weapons back. Hope you don't mind stairs too much." Warren didn't usually bother with the stairs, but it'd be rude to fly down and leave Wade to the 20 odd flights of stairs it would take to get to the ground floor.

wade. He hopped a little from foot to foot, testing out his reflexes. Wade felt a little sluggish. Probably that leftover buzz in the back of his head, which, if he had to be accurate, felt like it was located roughly behind his left ear. "Nah. Stairs and me, we're tight. So, you gonna give me the guided Disney tour or what?"

warren. Warren laughed at that. "Well if you like. There's not much to see until we hit the ground floor, it's all just room after room after room. You're welcome to one, of course, presuming you don't already have somewhere to live." And Warren was not about to take Wade on a tour of everyone's rooms, he had absolutely no idea who was in what room. He headed for the stairs, assuming Wade would follow along.