The tv flickers, giving off only enough light to silhouette a slouched character on a couch, placed way to close to the tv itself. The character flinches slightly; contemplating weather investigating the feeling is worth. 'You ever get the feeling you're being watched.' Settling back into the deflated cushions, 'Can't a guy have a day off to just relax and watch his stories?' He strains his arm out with a remote and the channels start to flicker from one topic to another. The weight of the remote appears to be too much, as his hand slumps down into his lap, still pointed to the television.
Some flint of recognition causes the figure to lean slightly forward and flick the channels back one at a time to the cause of his interest. The screen stops on a local news station. Footage of bright colored, costumed crusaders race across the screen. Excited citizens share their accounts of the bravery to the camera. "They saved my little FiFi", one lady pushes her little dog towards the camera. "There powers were amazing…", "LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO MY CAR!", one complained.
The figure snorted at this and probably smirked. His face is scared so bad it's hard to be sure. "What a bunch of stupid fucks." He practically spit on the TV. 'Wasting their energy, saving the puplic's fufus. I hope they get sued out the ass! Uh. I hate those shit stains.'
His stomach begins to growl so loudly the people in the TV can hear it and he wonders what sounds good for dinner.
Out in the bright glow of sun, the scared figure climbs the steps up to a ginormous mansion of stone and mortar, set amidst a picturesque backdrop of perfect gardens of fountains and flowers and paths. As he is about to knock he stops his hand mid swing, pauses and then thuds the huge mansion door with the bottom of his fist as threatening as possible. Sadly, the oak door absorbed most of the impact leaving only a small thud to announce his presence.
The irritation showed clearly beneath his hideous face as he adjusted his stance as he waited for the door to open.
He had almost given up and was about to thud again, when the door creaked open. Impressively the person standing on the other side of the massive doorway was a slight thing, female, dark hair with a white streak flowing from the widows peak.
Her recognition of the guest was immediate on her face. "Wha dya want?" she twanged.
"Hey there my Southern Bell. Why does a guy have to want anything? I was in the neighborhood and wanted to swing by and say great job on the Super Heroing today."
"Ya always wantin somthin, Deadpool!"
"Well now that you mention it, I could really use a bathroom and I just hate public restrooms. Cesspools really…," as he pushes his way through the door past Rogue, "I know you don't mind right."
She doesn't give him an inch for in entry. He has to suck in to squeeze by her, and practically falls when his entire body cleared the door and her body. He starts heading towards the kitchen.
"That's not the way to the lue."
"Ah, the feeling has past. Isn't that funny how that happens?... So, what's for dinner."
He opens the fridge and just stands there staring in. Rogue pushes him aside and closes the fridge. He barely cares and moves on to opening all the cabinet doors to find some unknown food item, leaving each door open as he continues his search.
"Stop… hey… I said knock it off! What makes ya think y'r even welcomed to dinner?"
"Well," he stops, turns to her, steps so close she can fell his breath on her face… uncomfortably close, "you are all goody to shoes, and I am a hungry citizen. Surely you would never turn away someone in need." He bats his eyes, like a cute school girl.
"Well," she repeats, "too bad so sad for you. Everyone else went out to eat."
"That is too bad," he steps closer still, where you wouldn't even think there was any room to move any closer. Noses practically touching. Neither one willing to move back out of the shared space. The pose holds for what feels like eternity. "How long until they are back?"
"At least an hour." She grits through her teeth.
"Perfect, 58 minutes of cuddling."
She lifts her hand to hit him… He doesn't move… She reaches back a little further to really wind up… He still doesn't move, just smirks. As her open hand flies towards his face, it instead grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls his horrific face to hers in a hard kiss.
He reciprocates and wraps one arm around her waist and the other mangles itself in her long hair. As the kiss gets even sloppier, he lifts her up, legs wrapping his waist. Pushing her into the counter she screams as her head bashes the corner of an open cabinet door. "What kind of terrorist open doors and doesn't close them?"
He laughs as he yanks her from the counter, spins around and drops her to the floor behind the island. "There ya go. I didn't open any doors down there." A shoe fly past his head from her direction and he just barely dodges it. "Good idea." He removes his t-shirt and starts unbuckling his pants as he dives down behind the island as well.
"Great work team." Mutton chops beams to the large group of spandex we saw earlier on the news.
Beast holds out a Styrofoam container, "I hope that Rogue enjoys the flaming tar tar we brought her from the restaurant."
They continue through the mansion, chattering and laughing as they go. Just as the open the door to the kitchen, everyone stops staring into the room with dropped jaws. Logan immediately tenses every muscle and vein in his body. His neck bulges as a guttural roar builds up through his body and out filling the room and shaking the glasses. He extends him arms as talons instantly appear from each knuckle.
An half an instant later, a flash of skin and limbs pushes through the crowd and out the door. As he exits the mansion he clears the staircase in one step, clutching the to-go box under his arm.
"That scallion took my tar tar!" Beast whimpered.
"At least I took a good portion of his arm on the way out." Logan holds up the limb, twirling it around like a helicopter blade.
Rogue peaks through the kitchen door, half dress, looks at Logan, "That's not his arm!"