Wanton young women engaging in fuzzy animal massacre.
Who: Wade Wilson & Aurora Beaubier
What: Ritual squirrel sacrifice, a William Tell experiment, and flirting/invasion of privacy (who can tell the difference anymore?).
When: Backdated; a few weeks ago, after this exchange.
Where: Out in the great wide wild woods!

Wade: Directions were hard when it came to Wade and his ritualistic observance of squirrel sacrifice, considering he was out in... well, almost the middle of nowhere. The best he could give this 'Aurora' was: leave the hotel. Strike out west. Watch out for red clothes. Keep an ear open for gunshots and the sound of a crackling radio, the receiver barely picking up a local classic rock station. But when she picked her way through the woods he could be, reliably, found waiting with his lawnchair and a six-pack of beer. It was a surprisingly calm and stable moment for him, to be honest. Having gotten all his weapons back from the hotel (those silly chumps!), Wade was fully enjoying having full run of the forest without the fear of being decapitated and/or impaled on tree-logs and/or shot and/or burninated in the foliage. He liked to think he was god-like, alright, but actually being a burning bush was a little out of his religious price-range.

And for all his talk about massacring animals, there wasn't actually a pile of small, furry corpses beside him. Wade liked spooking them more than anything else. Shooting close enough to startle and graze -- but not kill -- that, yeah, that took skill.

Aurora: Aurora had been wholly unperturbed by the somewhat vague directions given to her on the journaling system. Mostly because she was an entirely impulsive sort of person, and if she didn't end up finding Wade, no skin off of her pretty little nose, she'd have made a day of it anyway, zipping in and out of trees or tanning in any gap of light she may have come across. So! After taking brief stock of her appearance in her mirror, running a quick dark hand through her mass of unruly hair, she was off! Using her balcony as a launch pad she'd gracefully leapt out and into the air, arms splayed wide and straight. This little French Canadian had no problem with her powers, and honestly couldn't care less about the 'secret' all mutants were forced to keep, unlike her brother who worried daily about her penchant for such flippant public use of her flight and her speed. Bah! People were so uptight!

It wasn't long before Aurora, who had been happily zipping in between the trees, came to a small clearing in the forest, and there, in the middle of it, sat her Brand New Friend, his back to her, radio on one side and (oh thank Sweet fucking Jesus) a six pack of beer on his other. An impish grin flickering happily across her lips, Aurora levitated a good several feet off of the ground once more and flew forward, twirling around and landing gracefully and over dramatically in front of him. "Salut!" She greeted with a playful little half-curtsey. "I do hope you are the one they call Wade Wilson, oui? Otherwise I have found the wrong lumberjack!"

Wade: His red mask (iconic even now) was halfway pulled down across his face but, for once, one could tell that the American looked fazed and even a little surprised, when the lithe young woman did her twirl and curtsey. He was still getting used to the cornucopia of powers at the hotel, okay! It's not like he had a handy-dandy directory to reference. He hadn't known the excitable French chick was going to fly on in.

"That's a helpful one," he noted, eyeing the distance between her floating feet and the ground, with a smirk. "Up up and away. Very Superman. Awesome as I am, I could never catch a speeding train."

Aurora: Now that her feet were firmly upon the ground Aurora was able to make her way forward a little, pausing a few metres away from Wade and placing her hands upon her hips, eyeing him apprasingly. She'd not seen him about the hotel, before - even though Aurora got around she couldn't fuck meet everyone, and to be fair, she had been spending quite a fair amount of time getting ridiculously drunk with her Jean-Paul. Mostly Aurora was just curious about what was underneath that mask, half pulled down as it was, and since Jeanne-Marie (bitch) had been awarded all of the tact in that crazy schism of personalities, Aurora stared freely at his face for a number of seconds, before finally breaking her gaze and flopping herself down at his feet, reaching (uninvited) for a beer. Questions later, drinks first!

"Aah! You may not be able to, mon cher, but I certainly could!" Well...she wasn't sure if she could catch up with a speeding train, Aurora had never tried but whatever! She would say it nonetheless. "Though I am much prettier than Superman, do you not think?" Giggled lightly, before looking about her with mock confusion. "But enough of that! Mon ami! Where are all of your squirrels?!"

Wade: He didn't seem to care about the beer (he'd assented to her sharing, after all), but after getting the visual once-over, Wade was obliged to give her one himself. He assessed her looks, askance, brown eyes trailing unabashed over her body and checking her out. What? You expected him not to?

"I dunno about that," Wade said, wry. "Clark Kent's a pretty handsome stud without the glasses. But he isn't exactly the type to crack open a beer with some regular dude, so I'm glad you're not him." Wade made a wide, sweeping gesture, encompassing the woods themselves. "Squirrels are here, there, everywhere -- I haven't actually been shooting the little bastards, just target practice. Can you see any?"

Aurora: Oh no, Aurora definitely expected some checking out to occur, and she almost half posed for him as his eyes trailed down her body. Okay, so she was a little bit of an exhibitionist, what are ya gonna do about it?! Easily cracking the beer open with her resilient fingers, she playfully flicked the tag at his face, giggling lightly to herself and then taking a sip, fighting back the sour expression that always accompanied the somewhat bitter taste of this particular beverage. Beer was not really a favourite of hers. But hey, alcohol was alcohol, and Mademoiselle Aurora Beaubier did not drink for the taste.. Psh.

She let out a silver peal of laughter at his comment about Clark Kent, nodding thoughtfully, "Oui, I do suppose you are right. The man does have a certain, dark and mysterious quality about him." Here, she set him with a rather pointed look. Wait, was she still talking about Clark Kent? Perhaps not. She followed his grand gesture with her eyes, gaze darting here and there through the tree branches. "I suppose it is just as well you are not shooting to kill..." she mused (though couldn't help but feel a little dissapointed - Aurora had a very well hidden violent streak.) "You might run out of them otherwise." Then she stretched a long arm before her, pointing to a tree limb, "There is one! Work your magic!" Yay target practice!

Wade: "Exactly, I--" He was cut off by the exultant sound of discovery, and without even pausing to finish his sentence, Wade swung his sights to track her outspread hand and pointing finger. He squinted, and--

The booming sound of a rifleshot rang out through the woods.

Aurora: Aurora, ever the immature little girl, clapped her hands in delight, letting out a half squeal of laughter "TRES BIEN!!" Rising immediately from her position, she zipped over to where he had aimed, standing underneath the branch and squinting upward. "Did you get it, then?" She turned back to him, hands on hips and frowning only a little.

"Oh! Do you think, if we put an apple on my head," a pause as she raised her hands to the crown of her head, "that you would be able to shoot it off? Without blowing my brains off as well?!" Aurora? Just a little bit crazy? Nooo. "Or even better! A squirrel!" Wasn't this exciting?!

Wade: His movements as he cleared off the rifle and adjusted it were practiced and smooth. Everything aside, the mercenary calling himself Deadpool was a mercenary. There was something familiar in the way he handled weapons. When he glanced to the side, catching the excitement in Aurora's voice and in her expression, he raised an eyebrow.

"What? You want to William Tell this?"

Aurora: To be honest, the fluid and almost graceful way in which Wade handled his weapon was more than a little attractive to Aurora (not that this was new, most things that had a pulse were attractive to her when in the right mood), and she gave him an arch look, the corner of her mouth tugging upward into a slightly suggestive smile.

"Why not?" She lifted her chin a little, "I am brave enough." Besides, if she thought he was going to miss, she'd duck out of the way. Here she briefly wondered whether she was faster than a speeding bullet....Oh well, too bad, so sad if she was not. "Though perhaps we should not use a squirrel. I do not want blood and guts in my hair - I just washed it this morning!" It's true. It smells like Essences that were Herbal or something.

Wade:"Wellll," and here, the young man rolled the syllables around his tongue for a bit. "We don't have a news crew and we can't make a badass reality show out of it, but I'm up for a challenge. You have to admit, it's more exciting than squirrels. Maybe marginally less exciting than Six Flags. But definitely better than squirrels."

Maybe it was a shit-stupid idea, but he'd grown used to reckless endangerment and wanton hazards. Bodily regeneration could do that to you. Wade was confident -- arguably too much so -- in both his skills and in the human body's capacity for injury.

Aurora: "C'est excellent!" Aurora beamed at him. Where bodily regeneration had made Wade perfectly reckless, Aurora just completely lacked an semblance of responsiblity. She was impulsive, often to the point of mania, and it was rare for her to ever think things through. Today was one of these times, and so, giggling, she literally skipped over to where her nearly full can of beer was, scooping it up to her lips and tipping it back. Not ten seconds later, it was empty, and she waved it at him with a raised eyebrow. "I think this will suffice, oui?"

She began to back up, then, "And now! How far away do you want me?" Good Lord she hoped he was a good shot; poor Jean-Paul probably didn't want a braindead vegetable for a sister. It was probably bad enough he had two one that was insane.

Wade: He watched over the rim of his beer can as Aurora backed away, waiting as the distance (and the stakes) increased higher and higher -- before his sliver of sensibility kicked back into gear and Wade called out, "That's good!"

As she halted, he took another liberal gulp from the can. He wiped his mouth on the arm of his shirt, the edge of his sleeve curling over scarred skin before he self-consciously tugged it back down. It was a good enough distance. Maybe a little too far. Definitely maybe a little too far when he'd had a few drinks in him, but, well... but his reflexes were good, and he was Deadpool, for christ's sake. He was the coolest shit to hit Planet Earth since sliced bread.

Wade squinted and aimed for the empty can on her skull, allowing for distance and wind and tilt. And as he pulled the trigger, he couldn't help but think:

Aw, shit, please let this not be messy.

Aurora: With every step back, Aurora's heart rate rose steadily, but instead of fear within those clear blue eyes of hers, there was nothing but a building anticipation and when he finally bid her to stop, her lips spread into a wide smile as she planted her feet. "If you say so, mon cher!" Then, slowely and carefully, Aurora balanced the can upon her head, spreading her hands wide and away from her body, now, giving him the spirit fingers. "Monsieur!" her voice rang out across the empty space, "Take your best shot!" You had to admire the gal; there was not the slightest quaver of worry within her voice.

Indeed, she did not even close her eyes, bless her. Instead, Aurora watched in almost morbid excitement as Wade cocked his rifle, narrow his eyes, and set his mouth into a thin line of concentration. Finally, as the shot echoed throughout the woods--

--the can was gone. Her brain? Still intact! "C'était stupéfiant!!!" She literally squealed, hands flying to the top of her head, "That was AMAZING, mon dieu! But I did not feel a thing!! Not even the whoosh of the bullet!" And suddenly, all superspeed and no personal boundaries she was sitting atop his lap, his rifle separating them, her thin, long arms wrapped around his neck, and her face not neccessarily close to his, but close enough. "You are quite the... how do they say? Hot shot, mon cheri! I knew you would not disappoint!"

Wade: "I did?" He sounded a little thunderstruck, but it might have just as well been from the sudden and startling and not so unlikeable appearance of a girl in his lap, as from the actual success itself. "--I mean, duh, of course I didn't disappoint. I do this stuff for a living, you know!"

He didn't even seem to have noticed his slip of the tongue; slips of said tongue were pretty common around Wade and his legendary verbosity, but still, he tried not to share the fact that he professionally hurt people. Sharing was caring, but one could still go too far. Especially when you depended on the goodwill of the happy funtimes mutant collective in order to kick around their cool hotel. With their cool digs.

"If they didn't call me Deadpool, they'd've called me Hotshot," he bragged, trying not to let his skin crawl too badly at the unexpected close contact. Houston, we have... a flirtatious young woman?

Aurora: Aurora tilted her head to the side, regarding him with her bright eyes which flicked left and right thoughtfully. Goodness, she was really starting to wonder exactly what was under that mask now - obviously scarring of some kind, though she was more interested in whether or not the old adage was true; chicks really dug scars. Did she? She'd never really met anyone who had any, so she couldn't say. "You shoot cans off of the skulls of beautiful girls for a living, do you?" The corner of her mouth tugged upward ironically, and she leaned back a little one hand resting lightly upon his shoulder. "What an unusual living you make, mignion."

And the she laughed, brushing her finger a little playfully along the edge of his lower neck. Oh this one had no problems with physical contact whatsoever. "Well, Deadpool, you shall be my Hotshot, oui?" A pause as she broke his gaze to look down at the rifle between them, her other hand running down it's iron length, "I would suggest I have a turn, but I do not think the outcome would be as glorious. You may need more than just a mask after I am done trying to shoot things off of your head." Here, her fingers crept a little higher up his neck as she spoke. "A coffin, maybe, non?" What would happen if she just...pulled...that material down? Never let it be said that Aurora was not a curious sort of being.

Wade: Once again, he tried not to choke and not to look too obviously discomfited, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. The guy peddled in words -- he played with them, shot them around, cracked jokes and attitude as far as he could throw them -- but those exact words kept people at a safe, humorous distance. This was, uh, not his realm of expertise! If she wasn't a stripper, he had absolutely no reason why she'd want to be in his lap.

And oh good lord the rifle--

"Nah, it's not usually cans, I just -- yeah, I shoot stuff, though, and you're totally allowed to try if you want a shot at it, I swear to god even if you hit me in the head I'll be totally okay, that is the totally awesome benefit of being a mutant," voice suddenly rattling a mile-a-minute, so congratulations, Aurora, you just made Wade tongue-tied! He tried not to notice her hand crawling by the edge of his mask. She better not be about to do what he kinda sorta suspected she might.

Aurora: "Oh." Her fingers drew back a little as she narrowed her eyes at him, "Policeman?" She wasn't too sure she should be sitting on an officer's knee, those people could lock her up. Aurora did not like to be locked up. They also, however, had handcuffs, and Aurora did like to be handcuffed, and so her long fingers resumed their place, the tips nonchalantly curling at the edge of his mask's fabric, as she steadily met his gaze.

A flicker of a smile, then, and she fluttered her eyelashes at him, "I do not think I could possibly even dream of shooting you, mutant or not... the sight of your blood! Oh! Mon dieu!!" She pressed her free hand dramatically against her forhead. Okay so blood didn't bother her at all, but she was flirting here! Hey Wade, is that a rifle in your lap or are you just happy to see her?

Time for a subject change, because Aurora was chaotic like that, and enjoyed leading conversation. "Why is it, cheri," she set him with a serious expression, leaning closer, "That you wear this?" And now her thumb and forefinger were gripping the edge of it. She tugged it a little - not enough to pull it off - but just to get a little peek. She would let him remove her hand, if he so desired - Wade had shot a can off of her head and thus! She was willing to give him an out. Aurora was not usually so generous. She did, however, tug it once more, bright eyes curious.

Wade: Wade chuckled at her jokes and over-dramatic gasps -- and he let her tug lightly at the mask, as much as it made him his insides cringe and crawl. She might gone through a test with the bullet, but this was testing his emotional endurance. He wasn't used to letting people see him without it, to letting them breach that undefinable wall of privacy he continually maintained, but maybe he could drop that wall.

"I wear it 'cause I--"

Let her take it off, Wade. Mad asked you not to wear it. It's okay it's alright they don't care I mean they're all Baywatchesque anyway but they don't care, I--

Of course they care.

At first he let her slowly remove it, inch by excruciating inch, feeling the scarred skin suddenly exposed to daylight and air. But right before it reached eye-level, Wade twitched. Aurora got a free glimpse at marred chin, lips, cheeks, nose, but suddenly, at the prospect of looking her in the eye, properly, he blanched and Wade pulled back, leaning away from her prying fingers. Out of reach.

Feebly: "'Cause the half-mask thing just ain't as sexy as it is in Spiderman."

Aurora: She was not heartless, despite what everyone may have thought. She was careless, and carefee, and impulsive and wildly chaotic, psychiatrists might even employ the term 'manic', but she was certainly not heartless. And as Aurora peeled the mask back, her face remained simply curious. She did not flinch or gasp at the brief view she got of his scarred face. Instead, her lips parted into a soft little smile of understanding-- Though... okay. That understanding may have been borowed from Jeanne-Marie's, because Aurora did not realise she was capable of such an emotion.

"---Oh." And then. He had pulled away, and so Aurora pulled away too, fingers folding into her palms as she regarded him thoughtfully. "We hide things, also." She finally told him softly. There. He shared something with her and so she felt it only fair to share something with him. Even if her sharing meant letting him into that little personal little warped reality of hers. It was rare for Aurora to acknowlege Jeanne-Marie's presence out loud to someone who was not her brother. At least not when she was in full control of herself. Wade should consider himself lucky. Or something.

Then she reached up and ruffled his hair playfully, grinning widely. "Well I think you are much more sexy than Spiderman, mon cher!" And her giggly tone had returned, "Though I do not know who he is. I imagine someone who is a spider is not very sexy?"

Wade: Madeline knew more about the dichotomy Aurora and Jeanne-Marie than he did; Wade, well. He had barely even noticed. But he noted the significant pause, and the weight in her voice; something was up, at least, and he made a little mental note to remember it for later. If he remembered.

"Everyone here hides something, kiddo," he said lightly. "It's a regular old mutant soap opera. I'm just waiting for someone to get knocked into a coma and their long-lost evil twin to show up. It can't be me, though; the concussion wouldn't last."

When she ruffled his hair, he grinned back, a little off-kilter. He'd let that degradation stand. Because she was hot and she was in his lap, which pretty much gave her free reign. Eventually, he had to shift and adjust himself and displace the girl's seating -- but for now, until his leg started falling asleep, they were good for sharing beers and hanging out.

He didn't bring up his scarring again; she didn't bring up Jeanne-Marie.