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like you're satin in a coffin | travis+wade
[All in all, Travis Touchdown wasn't the sort for gainful 9-to-5 employment. There were only so many respectable gigs to be had in Santa Destroy--less so, with the city's economy in shambles post-UAA--and even those weren't paying half what they had compared to, say, two-three years ago? As reluctant as he was to admit it, there was only so long he'd be able to last on the leftovers of his old UAA days. Picking the old beam katana back up was going to happen sooner or later.
So why not sooner? And why not take out somebody big while he was at it, too?
One thing led to another and after way too goddamn long he got a hit. Some mob thing or whatever; like he could really afford to question it, especially not now that he'd jumped on board for sure. And lo and behold, here he is: still wearing the same old dorky t-shirt/jacket/jeans combo, still brandishing a light-up sword like an idiot and whacking a bunch of slower idiots with it. Straight up for cash now, though. Something about it doesn't sit right with him, and then he remembers:
It's just a job. The daily grind.
Travis grits his teeth, extricating his sword from some unfortunate sucker's skull.]
'Least I fought you head on. And didn't beat you to death with a baseball bat. [He chuckles, humorless, and moves down the hall in search of the real target.
He hates having to go back to this. But he's not good at much else nowadays.]
So why not sooner? And why not take out somebody big while he was at it, too?
One thing led to another and after way too goddamn long he got a hit. Some mob thing or whatever; like he could really afford to question it, especially not now that he'd jumped on board for sure. And lo and behold, here he is: still wearing the same old dorky t-shirt/jacket/jeans combo, still brandishing a light-up sword like an idiot and whacking a bunch of slower idiots with it. Straight up for cash now, though. Something about it doesn't sit right with him, and then he remembers:
It's just a job. The daily grind.
Travis grits his teeth, extricating his sword from some unfortunate sucker's skull.]
'Least I fought you head on. And didn't beat you to death with a baseball bat. [He chuckles, humorless, and moves down the hall in search of the real target.
He hates having to go back to this. But he's not good at much else nowadays.]
no subject
[And sure enough, he doesn't have much time to do anything but continue to stare, his one raised eyebrow threatening to migrate up into his hairline.]
I don't really-- just a plain ol' bento, b-- are you seriously getting take-out right now?
[...He totally IS ordering take-out right now.
What.]
no subject
Yes, I am seriously getting take-out right now.
Losing about a pint of blood has the tendency to make you ravenous, going out to a restaurant in the state we're in now would probably cause a panic-- you're practically covered in bodily fluids, did you notice?-- and I just don't have the energy to cook right now. Besides, I figured we both deserve a celebratory dinner. My treat.
...So is a bento all you really want?
no subject
Oh.]
I guess you got a point there. [But wait, celebratory dinner--] The hell are we celebrating, even, the fact that your superpowers still work?
And-- I dunno, sushi, I guess. I don't care.
[Again. This guy's way too weird (and way too quick with his words) for him to find any room to protest at all.]
no subject
The fact that we didn't die, for one thing. The fact that you made good on your contract, for another. Aaaand the fact that I came outta this fifteen million dollars richer despite putting my client in the ground. I consider it severance pay for dealing with the pompous asshole.
[He puts the cell to his ear again.]
Ren? Sorry about that. What would you recommend to someone who's uh... indecisive? Curry? Sounds great. Put some sushi on that order, too. I dunno-- salmon, crab, tempura... surprise me. You got all that? Awesome. Fifteen minutes? Sounds good. See ya.
[He hangs up, sliding the cell back into one of the pouches at his belt.]
Okay, we're all set. Meet you at my apartment? We've got about fifteen minutes before the food gets there.
no subject
You're shitting me. [Which he isn't, of course. Travis continues to watch Wade (and his unfairly perfect Japanese), dumbfounded, until he finally responds to him again.
He's never gonna get used to this. But why the fuck not.]
Y-yeah. Sure.
no subject
Fifteen million, yup. Not a bad haul, I'd say. You gotta stop watchin' all that anime and start putting that dorky energy to good use, my man. Like learning how to be a decent hacker.
But hey, I'm glad you got enough sense to snap up a free dinner. It's a date, then. Don't be too late-- I might just rescind my offer and eat it all myself.
[He winks and offers Travis a nonchalant wave as he saunters out of room, hardly looking like a man who'd just made a rather large blood donation all over the carpet of an expensive hotel.]
1/2
Before Travis gets the opportunity to answer, or even snap back in defense of his hair, Wade's gone, entirely too springy in step. Hacker, assassin, actor, apparently smarter than he is. Apparently also cannot die.
What can't Deadpool do? God, he isn't sure if he wants to kill him again or-- or, er, something else entirely. Travis shakes his head. No, not good to dwell on this shit, or he'll go crazy. He waits a moment or two before he shoves his hands into his pockets and exits too.
If anything, this is interesting. God knows he prefers that to nothing at all.]
2/2
...a date?!