Well, it had been a week, one long pain shaking week, but he was finally out of that place. Now he could get on a live the rest of his life normally, well normal for him. It was back to hacking computers, selling weapons to is insane best friend (if you could really call him that), and constantly be in the line of danger more or less. Now that he thought about it, it's very surprising he didn't end up in the hospital sooner.
Weasel pushed in large circular glasses up the bridge of his nose, as he descended the entrance stairs. He was lucky the hospital was only a short ways away from his apartment; he could get the blood flowing in his legs again after being stuck in that bed for the week. But he had to admit, it was comfortable, and he did get food brought to him.
He looked back at the hospital, then at the street. For the split second he thought about jumping into the busy streets just so he could go back to the hospital. But he thought better of it and continued home.
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It was a longer way to his house then he thought, and be the time he had gotten there, he was sort of wishing his only friends weren't blind or mentally untrustworthy to drive a car. He also wished he had taken a taxi, or at least if he had money enough for one. He sighed, but reminded himself that the exercise would do him some good, because all he seemed to do was sit at his computer all day and night it seemed. But then again, he loved his computer.
He climbed up the four steps to his apartment complex, digging for his keys in his jeans pocket. Upon retrieving them he put the brass key into its hole and turned it. The locks grinned together and the door opened easily. Weasel stepped in, and headed straight for the elevator, he really wanted to get back to his computer.
One short box on cables ride, and giant step later, he was at a familiar wood door, and fumbling with the lock. It clicked, and he pushed it open slowly. Weasel peered inside. There was no sign of his Merc with a mouth friend. He took another short look before he went fully inside. He was half way into the small front hall, and still no sign of the crazy man. He let out a sign of relief and closed the door behind him.
Weasel was just about to enter his computer, when a black and red masked face swung down in front of him, nearly causing him to fall flat on his ass. "D-Deadpool!"
"Weasel buddy, where ya been? I've missed you…" the man said in a somewhat sly tone, still hanging upside down from the roof. Some how.
"I-I was in the hospital, you stabbed me in the leg." He said as calmly to his deranged friend as he could. He didn't want to risk getting stabbed again.
"But I had to." Deadpool insisted in the same confident tone "you were trying to steal the last cheesy puff!"
He held in a groan "but they were my cheesy puffs!" Weasel argued, and as soon as he did he had regretted it. He mentally prepared himself for another stabbing, and started reaching in his pocket for his cell phone to call the hospital. That is if Deadpool let him.
"That's not how I remember it." Robin Williams on crack retorted.
Weasel kept his mouth shut, he wasn't about to argue with a man he sold weapons too. There was a short silence; then Deadpool disappeared. Weasel sided again, and smiled, at least nothing bad happened.
For course that thought went to hell when Weasel enter his computer room, and found it a mess with crushed cheesy puffs every where. He wasn't going on the computer just yet.