fourthwalled | Duplicity IC Inbox

so what are you going to do then? try and get drunk?

drink and put all that pain down into the hole where all the rest goes
where I try and pretend it doesn't exist.
simple!

it doesn't work that way.

enlighten me.
how does it work?

you can talk to me.

you wanna talk about it.
i'll be at scratch.
not doing it on here

fine. i know where it is.

[Wade doesn't respond, he just does precisely what he says he would.

Nate will find him sitting at a table in a dark corner of Scratch, a pitcher of some cocktail or another sitting in front of him. He'd not bothered with getting a glass. Instead, there's just a straw right in the pitcher. Next to it is an innocuous-seeming cream cheese spreader stabbed into the table.]

( it doesn't take him long to locate the other [perks of being a telepath] and he's been to the scratch before, knowing akihiro works here. he's dressed like he always is and one day, he's going to ~~steal~~ get himself some new threads but that's not on his list of priorities currently.

hands stuffed in his pockets, he comes up beside the table, strands of white hair falling in front of his face as he stands there, head tilted, just taking in the sight of the other. )

Hey, hot stuff. Buy you another?

( nothing like a friendly ice breaker. )

[He looks up from his spot, tearing his eyes away from the knife to look up at Nate. 'Hot Stuff'. Cable likes to call him 'handsome. He can't help but notice the similarities. It's damn near fucking impossible not to. He's like Cable in a lot of ways, but still very much not in others.

Like the fact that when Nate approaches he looks like he's stepped right out of a goddamn 90's boy band poster, with that tilted head and white lock half-covering his eyes.]

Once I finish this one, absolutely. I never pass up a free drink.

Edited 2022-06-06 15:40 (UTC)

( slipping into the chair across from wade, he removes his hands from his pockets and stretches his long legs out beneath the table. tossing a glance around the place, it eventually lands on the utensil there on the table that clearly doesn't come with the place and he looks back up to wade then. )

Would this be easier if people couldn't see us?

( because he can make that happen. )

Not sure anything would make it easier, but... I dunno, maybe?

[He leans forward to slide his pitcher closer to sip from it. Wade would much prefer not to talk about this at all, but Nate had to be all persistent and stubborn about it.]

( he eyes the other mutant - watches the way he slowly pulls that pitcher in close to sip from it, then throws a look around them. it's subtle - not anything that wade or anyone would pick up on, but with just the thought of his mind, he makes it so neither of them are visible to the patrons of the scratch... until he decides to make them look like two burly looking guys who shouldn't be dealt with and just, you know, goes with that.

arms folding, his attention falls completely onto wade and only wade. )

So what's going on?

It's this city trying to find every which way to fuck me. I just wish they'd stick with the fun ways. Rather than bring in the traumatizing ones.

[He stares into his pitcher, not even looking at Nate so even if what he'd done to shield them had been some elaborate display, Wade probably wouldn't have noticed that either.]

That cheese spreader is a reminder of my failure. A reminder that I couldn't save her.

( he listens as wade [reluctantly] explains — gives him insight into what's so heavy there on his shoulders that this place has made even heavier for him to have to carry. he knows the gist of it from that time when wade was, well, dying essentially, thanks to being depowered and all and it's why he doesn't bother to ask for clarity on what he's referring to.

instead, he's quiet, gaze lingering there on the cheese spreader. )

Have you forgiven yourself for that?

I don't know that I'd say forgiven, but I've stopped trying to actively join her. That's progress. [He clears his throat.] There were some gang members I'd been trying to kill. Mercenary work. I didn't manage to get them all. So they tracked me down to our apartment.

Thought I got them all. There was one last one... and that-- [His eyes fall on the spreader.] was my last weapon. I missed. And he shot her. I didn't even get to say goodbye to Vanessa. She was just gone.

( even without combing his fingers through wade's thoughts, he can almost see exactly what it is he tells him — can practically relate to it, unfortunately, and that has him feeling so much sympathy — genuine sympathy alongside a tidal wave of his own guilt and grief for not saving the person he cared about most. for you to be the target and someone else just getting in the way. the man who had taken him in and raised him as if he were his son. he knows that pain and he wishes wade didn't.

he looks to the spreader that wade himself looks at and he almost lifts it with his mind — almost breaks it apart atom by atom until there's nothing left of it, but. he refrains. instead, he looks up to wade and beneath the table, he gently nudges the other's foot with the tip of his. )

I don't think you'll ever not miss her. I think... it might be softer some days... then sharp others. But it'll always be there. Because you'll always love her.

( gently, he offers him a smile, even if it falls a little. )

[He blinks when Nate nudges his foot with his and so he nudges it right back. Footsie under the table while talking about trauma. He's on board. That might not have been Nate's intention, but it's how Wade is reading it. He takes a long sip of his drink, sinking deeper into his seat. Wade is sad for himself, but the tone of Nate and the words ping something else. For as much as Wade acts like a fool, he's observant when he cares to be.]

Who'd you lose? [Because yeah, it sounded to him like he's speaking from experience.]

( blue eyes lift to meet wade's eyes for just a second before they drop their gaze back down to the table, foot nudging at wade's again. he hasn't talked about this to anyone — figures scott and the others just know with already knowing him and he's not here to talk about himself — he's here for wade and to listen to what he needs to say, but. he figures... supposes... )

Forge.

( does wade even know [of] him? regardless, nate continues. )

When I escaped from the pens, he found me and took me in. He was the closest thing I had to a father.

( which is why being here, in this place, with his biological father is... strange. difficult. something he's still trying to figure out. he wasn't raised by scott — scott didn't raise him as one of his own and yet, he thinks of him as his son... scott himself feels like family to nate. so does jean.

reaching out with a hand, he pulls the spreader over to him with his mind and rolls it over between his fingers, looking to it. )

It's my fault he's dead because people wanted me to be their weapon.

( so he gets it, even if the situations are a little different. he stills gets that feeling of guilt and grief for letting someone down.

lifting the spreader up then, he looks to wade again. )

Do you want me to get rid of it for you?

Edited 2022-06-08 04:11 (UTC)

[Wade knows of Forge. But only because he's read a comic and the 90's cartoon! Got to love fourthwalling. But he's never made a movie debut, so he'll just have to play dumb on that one. He's just starting to escalate the little game of footsie by sliding a foot up one of Nate's legs only making it to his lower shin when Nate floats the spreader over to himself and his foot drops. He can't help but focus on the small blade as he toys with it, his heart twisting both for Nate and himself.]

Writers just gotta heap on the fucking trauma. Why can't there ever be any superheroes with perfectly healthy upbringings and absolutely no dead loved ones? Sure, they'd be boring as hell, but it would be a nice change of pace.

[He looks uncertain at Nate's question.] You can try? I've been trying to get rid of it but it keeps coming back.

( it's funny how he just always pretends to know what wade is talking about sometimes. or just... doesn't bother, really.

the question about the spreader, however, gets him to tilt his head some, white bangs falling a little in front of his face again. he turns the item over in his hands, lets blue eyes fixate on it a little and then, he lifts it from his fingers with his mind, having it linger there in the air between them. )

Maybe it needs to be blown apart.

( no sooner does he say that, his one eyes glows that familiar gold that he and cable both share and the spreader does, in fact, explode. into a hundred little pieces that are contained within an invisible sort of bubble there, keeping the shards from flying off and hitting anyone and just swirl around. nice and almost hypnotic in a way. nate stares at the display before them, a little longer than maybe he intends to, almost as if dissociating and, after a moment, his eyes fall shut and the pieces all fall to the table there.

bringing a hand up, he pinches at the bridge of his nose, eyes still shut. he feels lightheaded suddenly. )

If it comes back from that then I don't know what to tell you.

[It's easier not to try and understand what Wade is saying when he goes on a tear. It's not worth the headache.]

Maybe it does, are going to- oh fuck! [He flinches when the spreader explodes, fully expecting to get pelted with shrapnel before noticing that it's contained, and then awkwardly acts like he hadn't been worried in the slightest. He watches too as the shrapnel falls, leaning forward to shield his drink.]

I sure hope that'll do it, thanks man. [He is touched actually, although his brow furrows seeing him pinching the bridge of his nose. He moves forward and reaches over the table to touch Nate's shoulder.] Hey, you okay?

( the touch to his shoulder is enough to pull him out of the dizziness he feels and he blinks those blue eyes of his, looking up from his hand to wade and there's such a softness there in his eyes. )

Yeah. ( he shrugs the concern off, slow nod to come as he drops his hand away and clears his throat. ) Cool trick, right?

( the smile he wears is soft and he reaches out then to gently touch at the shards with the tips of his fingers. he hopes that's enough. )

[Wade smiles back, patting his shoulder, and maybe letting his hand linger a bit before finally moving to sit back down.] It was a fucking sweet trick, Nate. I could watch you blow up shit all day honestly.

I would join you if I had my C4. But unfortunately, I didn't come to the city with my plastic explosives. [There is a lot of shit he'd like to blow up here and not just cream cheese spreaders.]

( he watches the way that hand slips away from him - the way it settles back onto the table and he's quiet as he does, fingers still resting over the shards there in front of them. it's only after a moment that he lifts his head up and, as he does, there's a soft huff of laughter there on his lips with the smile he just barely wears. that right there is difficult to do most days... smile. but wade seems to make it come a little easier some days.

leaning back in his seat, he cards a set of fingers through his hair and pushes those white bangs out of his face. )

Yeah, well. Let's just hope I don't have to make any house calls to blow this thing up again.

( again, he looks to the pile before he lifts his gaze up to wade. )

You still planning to try and get yourself drunk?

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cw: suicidal ideation

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